Chapter Text
Why do I have to be here?
That was Wang Yibo’s first and only thought when his publicist dragged him to the nearest flower shop a few blocks away from the event.
It was an ungodly hour. He barely finished his bagel when she dragged him out of the hotel. And he wouldn’t normally complain really, but it was just so unnecessary for him to be anywhere but the track so early in the morning.
“What would you recommend for a graduation ceremony?” Yibo heard his publicist ask the florist as he continued to tap away on his mobile phone, replying to messages in several motorbike groups. Most of his messages were laced with excitement for later’s competition, but the more time passed with him just standing in the shop doing nothing, his fingers started typing with more impatience in them. He needed coffee. ASAP.
“Graduation? Irises would be your best bet,” the florist replied. A man’s voice, Yibo curiously noted. Deep; surprisingly soothing rather than intimidating. “They symbolize celebration of hard work, as well as great fortune for future plans.”
The publicist happily responded, “Perfect.” She hurriedly pulled out a black plastic card from her wallet and handed it over, “Would you be so kind as to have it delivered tonight around 7 o’clock in this hotel? Call us beforehand so we can take it off your hands later.” She handed him the credit card and lifted her sunglasses, writing down the address on a blank piece of paper by the wooden counter.
Wang Yibo, still clad with his wayfarer shades, finally turned his head to where the man’s voice was coming from. His gaze was met by a tall, slim guy, wearing a crisp dress shirt with a black apron over it. He tried not to stare. Yibo cleared his throat as inaudibly as he could, before turning away again and putting his phone in his pocket, crossing his arms.
“Call me when you get there, okay?” The publicist finally said. “Oh, and do you have a card we can write on here before we go?”
The florist replied, smiling from ear to ear, “Definitely.” He turned to grab a cream card with subtle pink embellishments, “I think this one will go well with the bouquet.”
“Wang Yibo, sign this,” she commanded.
“What, why me?” Yibo spat, his voice not coming out as vile as he intended. He turned to see both the publicist and the florist looking at him. But he was far more interested in the way the florist smiled so gently towards his direction, like a deer watching a stranger from afar with much gusto.
The publicist didn’t miss a beat, all too used to Yibo’s frankness, “The sponsor’s daughter loves you. This’ll help us later, okay? Just sign it so we can go.”
Yibo sighed heavily and shook his head a little bit. But he came over anyway and took the pen from her. He leaned over the counter, fully aware of the florist paying him attention. The guy was standing there, still smiling at him, hands tucked into the pockets of his apron. While Yibo was used to people looking at him, somehow this was different. Somehow this had a bit more weight than usual.
Once he was done, he cleared his throat and turned away. His publicist faintly thanked him and began talking to the florist again, “What’s your name again?”
“It’s Xiao Zhan,” the florist replied with a bow, handing her back the credit card with both hands. Proper and polite. His tone was cheerful too, almost contagious.
Yibo couldn’t stand it. He felt his chest tighten at the tone. Sternly and without turning to their direction, he asked as he fished his phone out of his pocket again, “Are we done yet?”
“Alright, Yibo,” there was a little hint of venom at the publicist’s tone, needing a cup of coffee herself, “Let’s go.”
Exiting the shop, Yibo couldn’t help but feel that a pair of eyes were following his silhouette out the door.
-
“Silver isn’t that bad,” a bright-eyed, younger racer landed a hand on his shoulder.
Yibo was honestly baffled that this rookie had the nerve to speak to him that way. Naivete is at its finest when you’re young, truly. Yibo only raised an eyebrow and drank the rest of his champagne, bidding him good night.
‘Heading out early’, he sent to his team’s chat. He was met with a few well wishes and some reminders for their upcoming flight. Yibo didn’t bother replying. He loosened his tie and swept past the crowd, waving at some of the sponsors and more experienced racers he walked past.
Getting out of the ballroom felt like emerging from deep waters. Yibo could feel himself breathe again. He wasn’t in the best mood that night. Not winning gold never put him in a good mood, if he were honest.
He checked his phone one last time and started heading to the lift when a familiar voice called out to him.
“Wang Yibo?”
Cold shivers ran up his spine. Yibo turned to see the florist from earlier, Xiao Zhan, standing a few feet away from him with a bouquet of irises in one hand. He long dropped the apron and simply donned his dress shirt, a pair of black slacks, and white sneakers. Yet somehow, even amid the crowd of suits and gowns, he didn’t seem underdressed. In fact, Xiao Zhan looked like he belonged there. And the entire picture made Yibo swallow a sudden lump in his throat.
Xiao Zhan sighed in relief. Smiling, he walked towards Yibo and carefully offered the bouquet.
Yibo’s eyes widened at the gesture. He looked around frantically, and as he expected, a few heads were curiously looking at them. He could feel his face heating up. “W-what is this?”
“I’m sorry for being late, I don’t usually get lost so it’s such a relief to see you,” he sounded breathless. But the smile never left his lips.
Yibo blinked. The irises for the sponsor’s daughter, right. It almost didn’t click and somehow a part of him just haywired at seeing Xiao Zhan handing him a bunch of flowers. Yibo heaved out a sigh and collected his thoughts, “Yeah,” he could only say, “I’ll call her for you.”
Xiao Zhan watched as Yibo dialled his publicist. He called her over to where they were and not even a minute passed before she appeared. Xiao Zhan bowed his head a bit and handed her the bouquet, which she thanked him for.
Yibo realized he could’ve left the moment the call ended. Yet there he still stood, looking at nothing in particular. ‘I hope to see you again in the shop,’ he heard Xiao Zhan tell his publicist before their voices drowned in the background noises once more.
Xiao Zhan looked at Yibo curiously, a small smile plastered on his face as he did. “Thanks so much for your help.”
There it was again: That cheerful tone that wasn’t overly sweet and nowhere near obnoxious. Yibo turned to look him in the eyes, gulping a little bit at the sight, “Yeah, sure.”
Xiao Zhan, for some reason, wasn’t walking away either. There was an unsaid tension, a silence that wasn’t at all awkward between them. Even when there were dozens of people walking back and forth, Yibo felt like it was just the two of them standing in an empty space. Almost like they were standing inside a bubble of their own.
Yibo cleared his throat and wondered if Xiao Zhan would follow if he walked. He slowly stepped towards the direction of the lift, and to his pleasant surprise, so did the florist. The walk was long, agonizingly so. It wasn’t the type of silence that made Yibo want to turn the other way around, rather the type that made him want to poke his finger and see what he could possibly unearth. Xiao Zhan has had that aura ever since he first laid eyes on him that morning.
When they made it inside the lift, Xiao Zhan stood in the far corner without saying anything. They were alone and they only had a few floors to go.
For the love of god just say something , Yibo’s mind echoed. There was something magnetic about the guy. He was calm yet Yibo knew that there was a fire stirring beneath the steady demeanor. Yibo could identify passion in other people; he was all too familiar with the feeling of it and the act of concealing such intensity under the guise of nonchalance.
Yibo finally began, “Have you had dinner yet?” It wasn’t an invitation, just a question. But no matter how much Yibo told himself that, the pang in his chest was convincing him otherwise.
Xiao Zhan turned to him with a smile, “Yes.” The man was sweet in general, which was both fascinating and bothersome for Yibo. “And y—”
The bell rang and the doors opened. Yibo pursed his lips as Xiao Zhan stepped out, bowing slightly at him. Yibo didn’t waste a second. He followed out as well, eyes glued at the man walking away from him.
Ever since he laid eyes on the florist earlier that day Yibo’s found something magnetic about him. He wasn’t the best when it comes to putting labels on feelings but he felt that there was something at the tip of his tongue begging to identify the mystery.
He hesitated for a second, tempted to call on to the florist. But his mind was still clouded from the mediocre performance in the competition, muddled by negative thoughts he wanted to flush away.
So Yibo turned back to press at the lift again and waited for the door’s light to blink back at him.