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It starts the way he least expects it to: with a secret.
Or maybe, considering the two of them, he should have seen it coming.
Feng Xin knows he’s probably the most honest and open of their little friend group, at least for most things. He’s generally come to terms with it. Xie Lian is pretty forthcoming—sometimes too forthcoming. Feng Xin knows things about his childhood friend’s “intimate relations” that he never, ever wanted to know. In fact, he knows admittedly more about that than all the details of his friend’s life since they reconnected in their third year of university. He’ll also never push for details, because Feng Xin isn’t an asshole like that.
Speaking of assholes, there’s no way he’ll ever get a straight answer out of Mu Qing. Even after rooming together throughout university and several years into their working adult lives, Feng Xin struggles to understand what goes through his head. He does his best, really! It’s not his fault Mu Qing consistently says one thing and means another. Every day of their lives, Feng Xin thinks it’s a miracle that they can live in the same apartment and not murder each other.
Even with his other friends, not that he has many, he doesn’t know all the ins and outs of their lives. And he’d very much like to keep it that way, considering the frequent “ins and outs” he’s had to ask Pei Ming to stop describing.
(He’d called it that once, too, when they were at the gym together. Complete with disgusting eyebrow wiggle and hand gestures. Feng Xin had needed to excuse himself to go vomit in the nearest trash can.)
All that being said, no matter how open he is, there’s one thing in particular that Feng Xin isn’t completely honest about.
It’s not something that’s widely known, and by that, Feng Xin means that it’s something he’ll be taking to the grave. There’s no way anyone else can know—not Pei Ming, not Xie Lian, not Mu Qing.
Definitely not that red creep attached to Xie Lian at the hip. He’s absolutely last on the list of people who could ever get even an inkling.
Actually, scratch that. Shi Qingxuan is last on the list—as much fun as they are, they cannot keep a secret. Once they know, the whole world knows, and Feng Xin dies a slow and painfully embarrassed death.
The thing is, despite his reputation, the intimate things he’s done in the past, his entire months-long relationship with Jian Lan, Feng Xin has still never been kissed.
Not once in almost 26 years.
That’s got to change.
***
Okay, so maybe this getting his first kiss thing is going to have to involve telling someone about it after all. Because, he’ll need another person to kiss, right? And it’ll probably be easier if it’s someone Feng Xin knows already.
He’s thought about like, going to a club for a hook up or something. And he’s not like, a virgin or anything either so it wouldn’t be too awkward, right? Go to the club, find someone cute, maybe make out a bit on the dance floor or in a hallway or try to get invited back to their place because gods know he can’t bring anyone back here with Mu Qing also living in the apartment. He’d never hear the end of the teasing, and there are too many Ju Yang dick jokes about him in Mu Qing’s regular rotation as it is.
Yeah, no. Not awkward at all.
Feng Xin scraps that idea before it’s even fully formed.
It makes him wonder though, is it really necessary? Does he need a “first kiss” or can he fake it next time he’s out with someone? Everyone already thinks he’s some kind of sex god— he has no idea how he got that reputation, thank you very much, it just randomly started somehow when he was on the university archery team? His archery is still pretty good actually, he can hit a bullseye consistently at 100 metres with the longbow! A lot of work goes into maintaining the body that can do that and— okay, so maybe Feng Xin can start to get a picture of why that rumour started after all.
Anyways, that’s beside the point.
The point is that Feng Xin hasn’t been in a relationship since that disaster with Jian Lan. And, to Feng Xin’s credit, he was doing all the right things. They just weren’t as compatible as he wanted them to be. He wanted things she couldn’t give him anymore, she’d said.
He’d come home in tears the night it ended, sent away by Jian Lan after making him promise to never bother her again. If it hadn’t been for Mu Qing that night, handing him a cup of tea (cherry blossom, Mu Qing’s favourite) and sitting next to him quietly on the couch for hours while he tried to figure out where he went wrong (something he never did), Feng Xin’s still not sure if he would be over the breakup.
But he wants a relationship again. He misses holding someone’s hand, resting his head on someone's shoulder, always having someone else nearby to talk to or share meals with or just admire while they go about their day. Feng Xin would like to say he isn’t picky about who he dates, but since he’s only ever had the one relationship, that would be a lie.
And the more he thinks about it, the fear of that someone finding out that actually, he’s never kissed anyone despite the rumours, despite his experience, that fear is what’s holding him back. The fear of being made fun of, or insulted, or teased over it. Especially since he’s pretty experienced! Not like, super experienced, of course, but he’s kissed hands and fingers and necks and even breasts! (Well, only the one pair.) He’s used his mouth a lot, and if he’s honest, his tongue is pretty spectacular (if he says so himself).
But he’s never been kissed on the lips and, somehow, that’s different.
He can’t let himself think about the future of a relationship if he’s so constantly worried about their first kiss. And he can’t think about kissing a stranger because it would just be so awkward and he’s pretty sure he’ll regret it for the rest of his life.
So, it needs to be someone he knows. And unfortunately for him, there’s a single option available that’s going to get him the least harassed. Feng Xin sighs as he tugs open the doors to the gym floor, pulling his hair back into a messy bun.
“Shidi!” Pei Ming cries from the other side of the room, waving wildly and attracting far more attention than Feng Xin would like. Gods, is this really his best option?? Feng Xin ducks his head and hurries over, already embarrassed.
“Can you stop calling me that?” he says in lieu of a greeting, punching Pei Ming in the shoulder as he stops next to the other man. Pei Ming barks out a laugh.
“Absolutely not!”
Feng Xin takes a deep breath through his nose, reminds himself he likes Pei Ming, and doesn't punch him again. Actually, he thinks as he deposits his back next to the rack and drops down to stretch his legs, he will punch him again, as soon as they get to sparring. It’s his favourite part of their workouts—getting to throw Pei Ming on the ground and lord triumphantly over him.
Why Feng Xin is friends with so many assholes is beyond him.
It’s not until after their workout (and after he successfully pins Pei Ming three times in sparring) that Feng Xin remembers what he was going to ask. His face turns bright red in an instant, and Pei Ming, hawk-eyed as he is, zeros in on the change immediately.
“What’s up with you?”
If possible, his face flames further. Feng Xin stutters something, then just stops in the middle of the sidewalk.
They’re on their way to grab smoothies from the shop down the street, a post-work out cliche both of them indulge in with a little too much enthusiasm. Feng Xin just doesn’t feel like exercise is complete without something sweet and fruity at the end, and Pei Ming finds it hilarious to be “that guy” who always gets a green juice or something Feng Xin can’t stand. He’d tried one of Pei Ming’s favourites at one of their first times out together and he’s pretty sure hair grew on his tongue even as the rest of his mouth shriveled up.
Disgusting.
Anyways, it’s early enough in the day that the smoothie shop is open but the streets are fairly empty. Which is great because Feng Xin would like the smallest audience possible to what is about to happen.
“Um,” he says eloquently. Pei Ming stops in front of him, eyebrows raised.
Feng Xin’s mouth opens and closes a few times, no sound coming out as he tries to articulate this ridiculous request. Finally, when Pei Ming starts to look concerned for him, Feng Xin screws up all his courage and boldness and spits out: “I need you to kiss me.”
In his head, Pei Ming seems like a good choice—they’re friends, he’s pretty good looking, and he’s really good at kissing already (something Pei Ming has made incredibly clear over his years of stories) so he’ll be able to teach Feng Xin how to kiss and make sure he knows what he’s doing. And then also, the most important of all of these factors, he’ll probably only tease him about it a little bit.
In real life, now that Feng Xin has said the words and Pei Ming has processed them, Feng Xin realises that this might have been a terrible idea.
“Hoho? You need me? And to kiss you? Feng Xin, I thought you’d never ask!”
Yep, the worst idea ever, who needs a first kiss anyways, Feng Xin should just keep doing what he was—wait, what?
His brow furrows as he’s shocked out of his thoughts. “What do you mean, I thought you’d never ask?”
Pei Ming laughs, clapping Feng Xin on the shoulder. “What, you can’t look like that and not expect me to think about kissing you! Come on, shidi.”
Feng Xin doesn't think he looks any which way, but ignores that for now. “So you will?” he forges on, trying to leave his embarrassment behind him and not really believing in his success.
“I’ll admit, I wasn’t expecting a confession so suddenly,” Pei Ming starts, his smirk gentling into a softer smile.
“I’m not confessing!” Feng Xin rushes to say. He definitely can’t have Pei Ming getting the wrong idea here.
Pei Ming blinks. “You’re not? But you need me to kiss—”
“—kiss me, yes. Yep, I do. Need that.”
Pei Ming’s mouth opens for a moment, then closes and he purses his lips. “Well, you’ve definitely never struck me as a sex-only, no-strings-attached type of guy, but I get it, you’ve got needs—”
Feng Xing screeches almost loud enough to attract attention from the few passersby as he tries to clap his hands over Pei Ming’s mouth. “I–WHAT?! Where did you get that idea?!”
He gets a scathing look for all his efforts. “You just said—”
“A kiss! I said a kiss! One kiss, not fucking—sex, holy fuck.”
Pei Ming’s face falls into an incredulous expression. It looks ridiculous on him, Feng Xin’s brain supplies, unhelpfully.
“So you just need me to kiss you one time? Right here, right now? Nothing else?”
Feng Xin sighs, relieved. Finally, he gets it! “Yes, yeah, that. Exactly.”
“Why?”
That, of course, is the question Feng Xin was hoping he wouldn’t be asked.
“Uh,” he says, eloquent as always. “Well, it’s just—I need—it’s—okay, it’s like—”
“Feng Xin.”
“Ihaven’tbeenkissedandIneedyoutohelpme,” he finally gets out, all in a rush.
There’s a pause. Then,
“Sorry,” Pei Ming says, tilting his head to one side. “I thought you just said you haven’t been kissed before, but that can’t be right.”
Feng Xin feels the blush that had started to dissipate return in full force. “Uh, nope. That’s right. You heard, uh, right.”
“But, your whole thing? Aren’t you supposed to be some kind of sex god?”
“Listen, I don’t know who started that rumour—”
“And– Jian Lan? Are you telling me you never kissed??”
“I know—”
“Are you kidding me?? This is a joke, right? You can’t be serious.”
Feng Xin sighs, bringing both hands up to cover his face. It doesn’t hide how steaming hot his ears are. “I know, I know! It just never happened, okay? She didn’t like kissing and I never pushed her!”
Pei Ming rocks back on his heels, still shocked. “And now here you are. Asking for help from little old me.”
“Here I am,” Feng Xin agrees, more reluctant than ever after this conversation.
“Well,” Pei Ming continues, “you’re in luck, because I can definitely help you out! How could I say no?” He crosses his arms over his chest and smirks again. “I admit, I’d prefer the chance to take you to bed, give you the full experience, but I’ll take what I can get.”
Feng Xin groans behind his hands. “You’re shameless,” he accuses. Pei Ming just laughs.
Then, he feels hands wrapping around his wrists, gently tugging them away from his face. Feng Xin blinks up at him, Pei Ming’s face softening again into a gentle half-smile, the face he sometimes makes when Feng Xin does something that makes him proud. All of a sudden, Feng Xin’s mouth is dry.
“Close your eyes,” Pei Ming murmurs, one hand releasing his wrist and coming up to cup his jaw.
Feng Xin’s heart stutters for a moment, then picks up faster and he feels—anxious, is he supposed to feel anxious? He wants this, shouldn’t he be excited? He closes his eyes, hoping that will dispel the nerves but it only makes it worse.
Now he doesn’t know what to expect or when to expect it? And it’s really happening now, but is Pei Ming actually the person he wants to take his first kiss? That’s super unromantic. Don’t get him wrong, he likes Pei Ming, but he doesn’t like like him. Is that important?
Maybe to Feng Xin, it is.
But he’s in too deep now, he can’t just back-pedal and get out of it. He’s literally getting this kiss any second now, as soon as Pei Ming stops stroking his cheek or whatever is happening. Really, it’s best just to get it over with, then afterwards he can figure out exactly what he wants—
Pei Ming, one hand on Feng Xin’s wrist and the other softly cupping his jaw, tilts him down and presses a soft kiss to his forehead.
Feng Xin’s eyes pop open and he stares at Pei Ming, utterly confused.
“There’s no way I can kiss you when you’re so obviously panicking about it, idiot,” he chides him, fondly, then cuffs him lightly around the back of his head. Feng Xin feels stupid tears of relief spring to his eyes. “Tell me what’s really going on.”
He lets tug him in the direction of the shop and then even lets him buy him a smoothie, though he draws the line at any of Pei Ming’s ridiculous “pick-me-up” suggestions and chooses an old favourite.
They take them over to the nearby park, Feng Xin hoping that the two-fold distraction of having something in his hands while walking will help him articulate his problem. Pei Ming basically told him he’s not allowed to leave until they’ve sorted it out, on the pain of severe social embarrassment. Pei Ming is both capable of, and has enough dirt on Feng Xin to follow through with that threat.
“So,” Pei Ming says, sipping some god-awful ginger-kale-lemon juice with a straight face. “Explain.”
Feng Xin doing his best to hide behind his perfectly respectable watermelon-peach smoothie, sighs. “It’s just—I feel like—fuck, how do I say this?” He takes another sip. “I feel like not having been kissed is holding me back. Like, in relationships and shit.”
“Despite the fact that you’ve—you know–” Pei Ming makes a rude gesture involving his tongue and the hand not holding his drink, which Feng Xin slaps away the moment he sees it.
“Fuck off, stop doing that in public! Holy fuck, man!”
“But I’m right, though?”
Feng Xin just glares at him, which Pei Ming (correctly) takes as confirmation. “No, but really, I haven’t dated anyone else since her.”
Pei Ming looks at him consideringly. “But you want to.”
Feng Xin can’t help the hint of a smile at the thought. “Yeah. I want to.”
“So basically,” Pei Ming continues as they turn a broad corner on the park path, “you’re a romantic. Like a diehard romantic. The type that wants to only be with people they’re deeply in love with. That’s why you haven’t kissed anyone yet.”
That—actually makes a lot of sense. Feng Xin blinks. “How did you figure all of that out so fast?”
Pei Ming scoffs. “Don’t we spend a massive amount of time together? I know you better than you think.”
Well, Feng Xin supposes he isn’t wrong about that. “So then, if that’s true, I’m in love with someone already, right? Since I already want to kiss them. But who?”
Pei Ming looks impressed at Feng Xin’s conclusion and also the tiniest bit—worried? Relieved? He can’t quite place that expression. Pei Ming looks on eagerly as he sucks up more of his disgusting juice while Feng Xin puzzles through his newest problem.
Feng Xin opens and closes his mouth a few times, the straw of his almost empty cup bouncing along his lower lip. Eventually, he says, “do you think it’s Xie Lian?”
Pei Ming’s face falls flat and Feng Xin feels that, for sure. The last thing he needs is to be in love with Xie Lian. The only thing that will get him is a one-way ticket to murder town, courtesy of one Hua Cheng. Even if he and Xie Lian weren’t disgustingly lovey-dovey all the time. No thank you.
This is turning out to be harder than he thought.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” he hears Pei Ming mumble under his breath, but Feng Xin pays it no mind. He’s got a lot of work to do to figure this out.
He hasn’t come to a definite conclusion by the time they’re both finished with their drinks and have made it back to the entrance of the park. Pei Ming pats him on the shoulder as they part, looking proud of him for what he’s figured out but also strangely disappointed, like Feng Xin’s missed something obvious.
No matter—Feng Xin’s like a dog with a bone when he’s got a problem to solve. He’ll figure it out.
***
Three days later, Feng Xin wakes up in the middle of the night with an epiphany.
He’s been spending time thoroughly going through his friends list, his acquaintances, his colleagues, literally anyone that he has some kind of meaningful connection to that could be the person he’s in love with. So far, nothing. He’s considered, in great depth and detail, everyone from Shi Qingxuan to Yin Yu to (horrifically) that crimson menace, all of it unsuccessful.
(And really, thank fuck it isn’t Hua Cheng. Feng Xin would rather be dead.)
There is, however, one person he hasn’t yet considered: Mu Qing.
On one hand, why would he? All they do is fight all the time anyways, constantly arguing about who’s doing the laundry or why there aren’t any groceries, or “you know I have a late shift tonight, asshole, why can’t you clean up for once?!”
Really, what about that screams domestic bliss?
But at the same time, there are so many little things that Mu Qing does to make him happy. How many times has Feng Xin stumbled out of bed, half-way late to work to find his tea already made in his favourite tumbler? The one he got at an artisan market three years ago, blue and gold and enamelled with bows and arrows.
Or then also, after an extra long day at the clinic, Feng Xin sometimes comes home to cute pastries or a pre-made dinner, always with the excuse that they were end-of-day and would be thrown out if Mu Qing hadn’t bought them, and isn’t he generous to share them? But really, there’s more than Mu Qing could eat by himself.
Or then even, Mu Qing dropping scrubs on his lap with a scoff when he’s watching a movie or scrolling through his phone. They’re freshly laundered, but also always the ones that Feng Xin manages to tear or damage, and they’re mended for him. Sometimes just with neat, invisible stitches, sometimes with colourful embroidery of flowers or little animals. They're embarrassingly cute, but the kids at the clinic seem to love them.
But even more than all of those things, is how Feng Xin feels when he sees Mu Qing. The speechlessness when he’s dressed to kill at a night out at Hua Cheng’s club or the fluttery feeling in his chest when he’s fresh-faced in the morning, still in loose pyjamas, making tea and getting ready for work.
Maybe those feelings aren’t irritation or anger or begrudging gratitude after all.
He’d just woken from a dream, one where he’d walked by the bathroom door, peering inside to see Mu Qing in the middle of his morning skincare routine. His usual cat-eared terry-cloth headband was propped on his head, and dream-Feng Xin was struck by how cute he looked with it on. He’s reached out to take Mu Qing by the shoulders and then leaned in to kiss—
Feng Xin stares wide-eyed at the dark ceiling of his room, Mu Qing sleeping just one room over.
He wants to kiss Mu Qing.
This is news to Feng Xin.
Mu Qing decidedly does not want to kiss Feng Xin.
At three am on a Tuesday morning, his three-day problem finally answered, Feng Xin’s heart swells and breaks at the same time.
***
He must eventually fall back asleep, but he doesn’t feel any better by the time his alarm wakes him at six. Feng Xin sulks around the apartment for the next few days, finding as many excuses to be out of it as he can. The time he does spend there is mostly in his room.
Mu Qing probably just thinks it’s one of his weird mood swings or whatever. But he never asks, and Feng Xin never offers. He’s got to figure out how to get over this by himself.
He wishes he’d never started worrying about that stupid first kiss.
Any time he spends in the common spaces of their apartment has him feeling even more broken-hearted about the things he can’t have, especially when presented with all the ways their lives already intertwine.
There’s Feng Xin’s hoodie on the couch, the one Mu Qing was wearing the other day when he got cold. Mu Qing’s weird poetry is mixed in with Feng Xin’s action and romance novels, his black hair ties mixed in with Feng Xin’s colourful ones. Their boots and running shoes are lined up side by side.
All of this already exists, and it’s hard for Feng Xin not to start imagining it to be more.
He makes himself stop, though. There’s no point in it, after all.
He still takes the tumbler full of tea with him to work.
Shoving the thoughts to the side and resolutely hoping that they’ll just take care of themselves and go away doesn’t seem to be working, though. He thinks about it when a patient asks him about his evening plans, how they involve basically going to the gym probably until they close and then creeping home.
Pei Ming would probably be up for drinks, Feng Xin thinks for at least the ninth time since he had that dream. And, like every other time since, he reminds himself that he’s making the very adult decision not to use alcohol as a coping mechanism. He tries to do it in Xie Lian’s voice, and it’s moderately more effective.
Realistically, he knows that he’s a melancholy drunk, and he will absolutely cry about this if he goes out to the bar. What he’s actually doing is saving himself the embarrassment of being caught on camera sobbing into his beer, because he knows for sure that Pei Ming will plaster it all over his various social media accounts for maximum embarrassment.
This lasts a few days. He leaves early and stays out late when he can, hides in his room when he can’t, has as little interaction with Mu Qing as possible. It’s awful.
What’s worse is when he comes home from another late night gym session to find Mu Qing standing in the middle of their living room, arms crossed and glaring. He’s blocking Feng Xin from getting too far into the apartment and hiding in his room again, and he looks pissed.
“What’s your fucking problem?” he snaps before Feng Xin can even open his mouth.
“Excuse me??”
Feng Xin is wearing his least favourite set of spare clothes, dirty scrubs and work-out gear all stuffed into his gym bag. He hasn’t eaten since lunch and he’s been stressed for days and he does not have the patience for this.
Mu Qing scoffs at him, rolling his eyes. The corners of Feng Xin’s vision are starting to turn red.
“Did your brain cells stop receiving signals from your ears? What the fuck is wrong with you? You hate me so much now you don’t even want to be here? Why don’t you move the fuck out if you’re so unhappy here.”
Feng Xin throws his bag on the floor and points at Mu Qing. “Who the fuck says I want to fucking move out? Don’t put fucking words in my mouth, asshole. If anything—”
“Oh no, so you don’t hate me enough to deal with higher rent but you don’t have any interest in being here.”
“WHAT–the fuck?! No, fuck you, you’re completely wrong, like usual—”
“Then you’re barely here for what, for fun? It’s been days, Feng Xin!”
“If you’d let me finish a fucking sentence then maybe you’d understand that I’m dealing with—with—with emotional trauma.”
That’s accurate enough for this conversation. Unfortunately, it makes Mu Qing burst out laughing. It’s derisive. Something in Feng Xin’s chest twists, and he covers it up with more anger.
“You? Emotional trauma? You have got to be kidding, the most traumatic thing to happen to you was that time the grocery store was out of protein powder.”
“Fuck you, relationships count as emotional and never getting to have one because I haven’t been kissed sounds pretty fucking traumatic to me!”
Mu Qing stops for a moment, blinking as his mouth opens and closes. It’s not enough time for Feng Xin to take a breath and realise what he’s just said before Mu Qing spits out: “Haven’t been kissed? You? Don’t fucking lie to me for sympathy.”
Feng Xin snaps his mouth shut, grinding his teeth as his eyes dart away. Fuck, he can’t even look at Mu Qing right now.
He’s silent for long enough that Mu Qing’s eyebrows climb to his hairline. “You’re serious.”
“Yeah.”
Mu Qing looks like he wants to ask about the whole thing with Jian Lan, then, but instead he scoffs. “Why don’t you just hook up at a club or something, that’s more your style anyways.”
“Fuck you, no it isn’t! I don’t want it to be just anyone, it’s gotta be someone I lo—”
He cuts himself off before he can say something incriminating, but Mu Qing is too perceptive.
“Someone you what, you love? Are you an idiot? I know you only have two brain cells, Feng Xin, but how did you put them together to get that conclusion? What kind of stupid sappy romanticism is this?” He rolls his eyes, hard. “I bet it’s Xie Lian, isn’t it.”
“Shut up, it’s not Xie Lian!” Feng Xin is not bringing up how that was his first assumption as well.
“Then who? Who else could possibly have you so bent out of shape? I’m so tired of your idiocy I’ll get them to kiss you if it’ll fix you—”
“It’s you, okay?! It’s–it’s you. I’m in love with you.”
It’s silent in the apartment. Mu Qing must not have a comeback or mean, quick-witted quip for him, but Feng Xin can’t bring himself to look up. His heart is beating so fast and he’s certain he’s just ruined everything, their whole relationship, his entire life. He’ll have to move out after all, there’s no way Mu Qing will ever want to see his face again—
A cool, slender hand finds his chin and tilts it up, and Feng Xin makes eye contact with Mu Qing for just a moment as he slots their lips together.
Stunned, Feng Xin freezes before his brain comes back online and he finds himself moving on instinct, his hands coming up to clutch at Mu Qing’s waist. His fingers curl in the thin fabric of Mu Qing’s shirt, not quite trusting his hands on his skin.
The kiss is chaste, soft. It’s gentle, all things Feng Xin never thought he would get and everything he desperately wanted. It’s pretty clear that Mu Qing isn’t an expert at this, but then again, neither is Feng Xin, not really.
It’s so different, kissing someone and being able to feel them kissing back. Feng Xin thinks he could get addicted to the way Mu Qing’s lips caress his own, how his tongue licks gently at the seam of his lips, the way he lets Feng Xin tentatively explore his mouth.
When they break apart, Mu Qing’s face is vibrantly red. Feng Xin can feel himself blushing too, ears burning hot. Then he remembers—this was Mu Qing’s first kiss too.
The thought has a smile blooming on his face, happiness suddenly bursting out of him. “Wow,” he breathes, voice breaking a little on a pleased laugh.
Mu Qing scoffs at him, but there’s a small smile breaking through on his face. “Yeah, dipshit,” he says, voice soft. Feng Xin has never heard it sound so kind. “I love you, too.”
Feng Xin’s arms tangle around his waist as Mu Qing trails his fingers along Feng Xin’s jaw and into his hair. His other hand curls around the back of Feng Xin’s neck. He knows he’s grinning like an idiot, but Mu Qing is still smiling at him, despite his embarrassment. How often does he get to see this?
“You love me?” he says, tightening his arms and making sure Mu Qing can’t weasel his way out.
He rolls his eyes instead. “If your hearing is that damaged, get it checked. I don’t need to say it again.”
Feng Xin laughs. “You definitely do, asshole,” he smirks, then leans in and kisses him again. He pulls him back towards the couch, falling back onto the cushions and letting Mu Qing loom over him. “Every damn day.”
“Fuck off,” Mu Qing growls, kneeling over him and catching his lips in another kiss. “I already do.”
(The next time they’re both at the gym, Pei Ming hollers at Feng Xin, then sends him finger guns and an extremely awful suggestive wink. Feng Xin flips him off, grinning when Mu Qing does the same at the same time. Pei Ming cackles, but Feng Xin is far too busy leaning over to kiss his boyfriend.)