Work Text:
The guy flips a page on his book, oblivious to the attention on him.
Light streams in from the open curtain, flickering off of his bright red hair. The light doesn’t seem to bother him. He Tian knows that he’s been staring for at least ten minutes - that, too, doesn’t seem to bother him.
…not even a blink. Holy shit.
Redhead stretches his neck a little, both ways, and flips another page.
Huh.
He really isn’t going anywhere. He Tian leans back against his seat, drumming his fingers on the leather armrest.
The guy is on the wrong seat.
He Tian knows that he is because He Tian bought out the train car.
Drastic times demand drastic measures, yada yada, first class was undergoing maintenance and He Tian only pouted a little. If he was going to travel coach, the fucking least he could do was buy himself privacy.
The guy doesn't get the memo.
He reads the page he’s in, eyes shifting left and right. His hair almost shines under the light from the window.
Yeah, the guy doesn’t get the memo at all.
Redhead swallows, a subconscious thing. He Tian finds himself looking at his Adam’s apple, the pale dip of his throat.
Fuck.
About 30 minutes into the trip, He Tian had felt the air around him disturbed, the movement in the corner of his eye of someone entering the train car. He had been ready to fight. He bought 24 seats for a fucking reason doll, he doesn't need anyone encroach- the guy slipped in opposite him, a murmured ‘scuse me’ falling quietly from his lips, and that’s about the time it took He Tian to actually look and- Oh.
Oh, the guy is beautiful.
Fuck, he’s- he’s beautiful.
The guy sat with his back to the window, backpack sprawled out on the seat next to him. On the table between them he drops a little plastic bag and a water bottle. He doesn’t linger on any of it, movements bored and precise. He leans forward towards his bag and pulls out a book.
The guy is fucking breathtaking. It’s the hair, bright and red, but also the ear piercings, the cargo jacket two sizes too big that sits sinuous on his body. He Tian loses time looking at that one.
He Tian’s willing to ignore the fact that the guy is on the wrong seat, he decided then and there. The guy can stay. He’s a nice view.
He Tian shamelessly watches the guy’s hands, where the sleeves slips down, the grip he has on the book. He’s looking at it when he sees the grip slack. He Tian frowns. …wha-?
Oh.
The guy is looking at him.
He’s- he’s looking at He Tian.
He’s still leaning against the train wall, but he turned his head, forehead wrinkled over a question. He Tian catches his stare.
Looking into his eyes is a what electricity must feel like. The guy’s intense. He has fire simmering just beneath the surface, a dark, strong edge to his expression. He Tian can barely fucking breathe.
The guy seems guarded though, coiled up for conflict. Oh. Tough luck. He Tian is drowning in barely concealed desire, can’t the guy fucking tell? If the guy wants a fight, he’ll have to look elsewhere.
Just to fuck with him, He Tian winks.
The guy frowns. The reaction softens his features, dark in his eyes momentarily forgotten. He Tian finds that extremely amusing. Tough guy doesn’t know what to do with a wink.
The train-over-train-tracks noise reverbs steady in the background. As their silence stretches, the train is the only thing to be heard.
Redhead shakes his head, like he’s physically shaking He Tian’s weirdness off. He looks away first, breaking their eye contact.
Oh. No. He Tian immediately misses the attention.
…the guy doesn’t seem to mind that He Tian is still watching though.
That’s good, because He Tian has no plans to stop. He has never felt so noisy in his life.
*
The scenery out the window is nice. Mountains, bright shades of green and yellow under the afternoon light. He Tian can see his own reflection too on the window. Tired eyes, dark circles beneath them. White-ish bandage on the right side of his neck. He focuses on the world outside.
He Tian is sort of… running away. He’d only been to China a couple times, and never outside of the metropolitan area of Shanghai. Never a step away from the endless skyscrapers, the ads in neon lights, the string of pale hotel rooms, the business meetings, and the business meetings, and the fucking business meetings. This time He Tian woke up one day and he just- stopped giving a shit. About all of it. He Cheng can get fucked. The family business can get fucked.
He Cheng will chew him out when he finally gets He Tian on the phone. But fuck him. He can be as angry as he wants. He Tian just doesn’t care.
They’re passing through an agricultural area. He can see mountains in the distance, small houses that make up a village. Closer to the train it’s acres and acres of green. He Tian has no clue what kind of plant these are. Fuck. He rubs his eyes.
He’s backpacking through his own home country, ain’t that a thought? Minus the backpacking part, fuck knows He Tian wouldn’t survive low-cost traveling and all that shit.
Redhead sneezes. He Tian eyes snap to him.
Redhead is scrunching up his nose, one hand in front of his face. Maybe dust or something bothered him. When he seems to be okay again he turns back to the book.
Oh. He Tian was hoping for something more.
The book must be the most interesting thing in the universe. Fuck knows the redhead hasn’t said a word yet this trip.
He Tian played a little game of digging for information earlier, but 20 minutes of it and there isn’t much that he has discovered.
The plastic bag on the table is tied up tight, too tight for He Tian to get a glimpse at the contents. Instead of that semi-transparent thing, the plastic is white, too thick for He Tian to see through. No luck with the book either. With how the redhead is sitting, leaning against the wall, He Tian can only see the back cover.
The backpack occupies the entire sit next to him. The redhead would have trouble if someone was supposed to sit there. He Tian knows that no one will because yeah, he bought out the seats in the train compartment.
Doesn’t the guy… notice anything wrong? About the empty goddamn compartment?
He Tian looks behind himself at the empty seats.
Rows and rows of nothing, replete with train-over-tracks background noise and the blurry fields outside. The entire compartment screams of a set up for a crappy horror movie. He Tian can easily picture the trailer.
In a mostly empty train, an axe murder breaks down a door and hunts two boys for sport.
Eventually someone gets thrown off a window. He swears he’s watched something like that before. Isn’t redhead just a tiny bit scared?
The guy flips another page, slouched against the wall. He has the lingering of a frown on his face. Like he was frowning earlier and forgot about it.
…no. He’s clearly not scared. He Tian likes the little lines on his forehead. The guy is cute.
A question pops into his head. With all the staring- is He Tian being a creep?
Well. The answer is usually yes.
He Tian is bored though. And the guy is on the wrong seat, on the train car that He Tian paid for. He Tian has some right to stare.
Besides, the guy has done nothing to throw He Tian off so far. He must be able to tell that He Tian is looking. He’s just not stopping him. He Tian takes it as encouragement. He wonders if he can come up with an excuse to snoop through the guy’s things.
Flip.
One thing has been consistent, and it is the book.
Personally, He Tian doesn’t think the guy is leaving enough time to read the book in between times that he flips pages. He seems to be going too fast. But it is Chinese and He Tian doesn’t speak a word besides Ni hao and his own name, so who knows. Maybe the average time per page here is lower.
Flip.
Since He Tian can’t see what’s written and can’t see the cover, he studies the miniature shifts in the redhead’s expression as he progresses. The lines on his forehead deepen each passing minute.
The guy is really focused. Or trying really hard to be. He Tian finds that funny.
He thinks about reaching across the space between them and running his thumb over the guy’s forehead, to smooth it out. The shock on his face would make it worth it.
Flip.
The monotonous movement of the pages starts lulling He Tian. He looks away before he can fall asleep. He stares once again at the trees outside.
Words.
They linger in the space between them, a sudden clip in the quietness.
Wait.
Wiat, hang on-
He Tian snaps his eyes to him.
The guy is still looking at the book. He Tian glances behind himself, looking- he thinks he has gone crazy but- no. No one else, empty train compartment and if someone spoke it must have been the guy. He Tian turns back. The redhead’s expression has shifted, visually less concentrated. Without looking up he repeats whatever it is he said.
Oh.
Oh, that’s nice.
His voice is beautiful. His mouth is beautiful. He Tian wants to lick his lips and swallow the vibrations against his skin.
And he focuses on the vibrations, right, because He Tian doesn’t have a way in hell of knowing what the guy actually said.
Shit.
Maybe redhead is… mad? Hmm. If He Tian had to bet money he’d go with resigned but a little mad about it. A shade of tease.
…haven’t they been over this? The guy looked guarded and He Tian winked. Redhead felt thrown off. Case closed. What is he mad about now?
He hopes the guy’s not hell bent on a fight. He Tian can fight when provoked, but… With how pretty the guy looks, leaning against the train window in his big jacket with his big book and waiting on He Tian, well. He Tian can think of many better uses for their time.
“I don’t speak Chinese,” he says, staring at a small patch of exposed skin above his collarbone.
The guy glances up at him.
Looking into the guy’s eyes again shoots a thrill down He Tian’s spine. The guy has the most beautiful eyes.
Oh, he is waiting for some kind of follow-up.
“I’m Chinese, I mean, but I didn’t grow up here.” He Tian shrugs. “My mom died when I was born and my father decided to move. …and then he decided again. We moved a lot actually, long story, family business. To keep my education consistent my father told the teachers and my brother to teach me to speak in English. He- uh, didn’t teach me to speak himself. English is better for the curriculum later on anyway, and it will give me a heads-up with the international affairs of the family business and you clearly don’t speak a word of English. You do not speak English. I don’t know why I’m bothering.”
He Tian notices two things in the last fifteen seconds: none of the words register, and that the redhead has an amazing ‘are you for real?’ face.
Shit.
Well, He Tian tells himself, he is in China. He’s the odd one out. It was a long shot anyway.
Redhead is still staring. For some reason, they maintain the eye contact.
The fire He Tian glimpsed at earlier is still there, along with something surprisingly vulnerable, coiled up deep inside. It makes He Tian want to understand him. It makes him feel like he could understand, given enough time.
“Uh,” He Tian tries, “Ni hao?”
“Ni hao,” the guy replies, absolutely deadpan.
He Tian has never heard anyone inflict such lack of emotion on a single word. He Tian might be in love.
A flick of light shines in through the window, soon covered up again by some passing cloud. As the clouds shift, the light accentuates the pale expanse of the guy’s neck. He Tian’s eyes fall to the exposed skin. The patch of skin there, between the jacket and shirt, mesmerises him.
Redhead unconsciously adjusts the top of his jacket, right where it lays against his throat.
…aaand He Tian is no longer thinking about understanding. He’s thinking about sex.
Pure, filthy, unadulterated want, dripping wet between them.
The guy’s Adam’s apple would taste lovely. He Tian can imagine running his lips against the skin. He can imagine the guy gasping, a filthy sound echoing low in the space between them, he can imagine the guy’s fingers sinking into his hair, pulling tight against He Tian’s scalp-
The guy, the real one, frowns. Like he could hear He Tian’s thoughts. Or maybe he’s just tuned in to the shift in atmosphere.
Shit.
He Tian has no clue what the guy is thinking. This is a disaster waiting to happen. He Tian wills his brain to slow down.
He Tian drums his fingers on the table. Ok, the next step here is obvious. He Tian needs to tell the guy that they should kiss each other. On the lips.
How can He Tian tell the guy that they should kiss each other? On the lips?
For real. That’s He Tian’s new goal in life. He Tian does not speak Chinese and the guys is reserved and coiled up for conflict in a good day but fuck it. He Tian needs to get across their kissing compatibility. They need to make out as soon as possible. The guy needs to know.
Google translate will do the trick, He Tian thinks. The translations can be humorously bad but it’s enough to communicate. If the guy indulges him, writing things down and everything, they may even have a conversation. He Tian could have a shot. It could work.
He Tian pulls out his phone.
No internet signal. Oh, right.
They left the main city. He Tian remembers noticing. China has big rural areas where the reception can be terrible. The connection might not be back until the next town.
He Tian looks back up.
The guy grew bored of their silent… whatever it is that they were doing. Eye contact? What were they doing? He Tian doesn’t know. The guy has turned back to his book, eyes focused on the current page.
No.
No He Tian cannot be replaced by that book. Fuck that. He Tian glares at it with all his fucking might. He can, and will, beat the book and win the hot guy’s attention again.
Besides hi, the only other thing that He Tian knows in Chinese is his own name. If he has nothing else to work with, that sounds like a fantastic place to start.
“He Tian,” He Tian says, like an idiot, apropos of nothing. Fucking hell. He points to himself, just to really get the message across.
The guy lifts his eyes up to He Tian. He Tian repeats his name slowly, in case the guy missed it.
The guy frowns. And then- shit. He starts speaking a lot, words over each other, in an angry tone and a faster rhythm. The hint of amusement is gone. He clearly wants a fight and shit, He Tian’s name is Chinese.
He Tian’s name is in Chinese. God-fucking-dammit.
The guy is cursing He Tian out in Chinese because he thinks He Tian was fucking with him with the lost tourist act. He Tian needs things under control fast.
He Tian stands up.
The guy stops, words sort of hanging in the air. He Tian loves confusing him. Confused looks sweet on the dude, like he forgets to be angry when the world doesn’t make sense. Redhead is secretly a softie putting on an act.
He Tian shuffles to the aisle and pulls his bag from the overhead compartment.
The guy says more words in Chinese, tone of a question this time.
He Tian shrugs apologetically. I don’t understand, he means, and there’s nothing he can do to explain anyway.
In his bag He Tian can see his appointment book. That should do the trick, he thinks. He also finds a pen, which he drops in the little table between their seats, and then he puts his bag away again.
The guy watches He Tian through it all. He Tian has to try hard to hide a smirk. At the very least He Tian has his curiosity.
He Tian flops back into his seat. With the book in hands, he flips until he finds an empty page.
March 18th.
Meh. He’s sure nothing much will happen on that day.
He lays the book on the little table between them and draws a crude map of China.
Ok, cool. He pulls back to stare.
Holy shit, he’s bad at drawing.
He draws some Koreas and a Japan just be sure there’s enough info to place it. In the mainland part he writes ‘CHINA’.
He Tian glances up. The redhead is very, very confusedly looking at the drawing. Holy shit, he’s so cute. Redhead is trying to read over He Tian’s writing hand. He Tian flashes him a bright grin and holds his other hand above the drawing.
“Don’t be impatient,” He Tian tells him.
The guy startles. He looks between He Tian and the drawing, and then feigns disinterest.
The laugh He Tian lets out is unexpected even to him. Oh man.
Ok, now’s the tough part. How can He Tian-
Ok, he got it. He draws a little stick figure for a man, a little stick figure with a dress for a woman. Perfect little family. He considers making the stick figures hold hands but he can’t fucking bring himself to it.
Another half sized stick figure for a boy and an ellipse, not even a full stick figure, just an ellipse with a pacifier. A bit of a blanket too. What a beautiful baby. He Tian rocks at this art thing.
“Do I have your attention?” He asks the guy.
He flips the drawing to the other side, so it is facing the guy. Guy’s eyes immediately betray his curiosity. They’re drawn to the drawing.
If redhead was a cat, He Tian thinks he would be the kind to lick his paws in disinterest while the twitches of his ear give him away. He’s so cute.
The lines between his eyebrows deepen, and he’s frowning again. The guy turns to study the drawing properly. That means he stopped pretending not to care, which feels like goddamn victory to He Tian. The guy’s eyes scan over the image.
Ok. Very nice. They’re ready.
He Tian crosses out the woman.
It fucking hurts, even though that’s stupid, it’s a fucking stick figure, fucking hell- He Tian is not weak. He makes sure his expression shows nothing.
Okay. He Tian draws a circle around the other three (“after I crossed out the mother, do you see?”) and draws an arrow from them to Japan.
That’s what He Tian’s drawing skills allow him to do. He really can’t draw much more. Does the guy understand?
He Tian watches him taking in the drawing.
Well, at least the guy is looking. He’s not saying anything though. Does he understand?
He Tian cracks the knuckles of his right hand, one-handed, a little nervous tick he once picked up from his brother. Come on.
His anxiety threatens to explode with the prolonged silence. Come on come on come-
Shit. He Tian flips the book back around. He draws another arrow from Japan further, to the next page on the notebook, around where Hawaii would be. And then another arrow to Canada. He flips the book back for the Redhead, who’s still watching. The baby is Chinese, but he’s leaving as a baby, you see? No time to learn the language. And then, because He Tian has nothing to lose, he says it aloud too. “He’s leaving as a baby! You have to believe me redhead.”
He writes “Hawaii” upside down for the guy and writes later “Canada”. He even makes crude drawings again of the Americas.
Does the guy get it? Goddammit. Does he-
He Tian feels eyes on him. Oh. He carefully puts the pen down.
Now or never. He Tian meets his eyes.
The redhead is looking at He Tian like He Tian is mad. Like he has to decide whether to address the fact that He Tian is mad or roll with it.
Oh. Now that He Tian thinks about it- even if the guy does understand there was no need for He Tian to go through all this trouble. He just-
He just wanted the guy’s attention.
He has that attention right now though. Bright red hair, fierce eyes looking right at him.
Just roll with it redhead, He Tian tries to think very loudly. What’s the harm in indulging me a little?
The seconds move glacially slow while He Tian waits for some reaction.
Come on.
Come on come on come on.
Come o-
A long, slow, tiny sigh in the silence. The guy finally nods. He glances back at the paper again. He points to the boy. “He Tian?” he asks.
Oh, thank god.
He Tian sinks back in relief.
“No. He Cheng.” He Tian taps the baby and points to himself. “He Tian.”
The guy nods again.
Annnnd… that’s it. Conversation over.
The whole thing lasted 50 seconds. He Tian practically trembles with the thrill of interacting with the guy.
He successfully conveyed a message. Holy shit. They talked. The redhead understood him and asked a question and fuck He Tian wishes he could think of something to keep their momentum going, just a little longer.
Definitely worth it though. He Tian leans back against the seat, a dreamy pleasure simmering in his veins.
He Tian punches the leather upholstery behind him a couple times, just to make it more comfortable. When he really settles in he notices the guy is still watching him. Oh. He seems to be contemplating something.
A moment passes, in silence, and the guy makes up his mind. He says something in Chinese. He says it with a shrug of his shoulders, like he doesn’t much care.
Ok, nice. He Tian waits for more.
…nothing else is coming though. Did the guy forget that-?
“I don’t speak Chinese,” He Tian reminds him.
The guy rolls his eyes.
He says something (maybe the same thing?), slower this time.
…is he slow?
He Tian shrugs. “I really don’t speak Chinese.”
The guy’s annoyance is palpable.
The air around them visibly grows thicker. He Tian wonders what the fuck he did wrong.
On a whim, the guy gestures to the pen. …does he want it? He Tian holds it out. Redhead can have the pen.
The guy reaches across and takes it, careful not to brush against He Tian.
Boo, boring.
He Tian holds it a second longer, just to make some kind of statement. On an upstroke he brushes his thumb against the guy’s, tiny moment of contact, long enough for the guy to freeze, before He Tian smiles. Then he lets it go.
He Tian is not gonna make this much harder for the guy. He Tian is officially curious.
The guy narrows his eyes. He pulls the appointment book closer to himself, puts the pen to paper and…
-draws Chinese characters.
Oh.
He Tian appreciates the sentiment, really, but how on earth could this possibly help-
Oh. He Tian knows those characters. It’s He Tian’s name. The guy is assuming how it’s written. He assumed it right.
贺天
“Yeah, that’s right. He Tian.” He Tian nods enthusiastically at the paper. “That’s it.”
He Tian’s name looks fucking beautiful in the guy’s handwriting.
Redhead’s expression doesn’t change much, but He Tian thinks he seems vaguely pleased. He Tian will read it as pleased in any case. The guy can be particularly hard to pin down. He Tian will just have to use his imagination to assume the best.
The guy draws more characters. This time He Tian has no clue what they are.
“You lost me,” He Tian says, frowning at it. “I don’t speak Chinese, remember? What are you-“
The guy rolls his eyes, says words slowly. He points to the paper. Each word he associates with one character.
“莫.” First character. “关.” Second. “山.” Third.
Hmm.
He Tian studies the signs for as long as he can. What the hell are you guys supposed to be? He Tian successfully explained that he doesn’t speak Chinese, didn’t he? The only things he’s said are hi and his name. The guy played along for half a second, looking at the map and at him like He Tian is strange, but he understood what He Tian meant.
He Tian touches the paper. His finger traces the brushstrokes like it will make him understand. The guy shrugged and said something, like he didn’t much care, but then he went through the trouble to write down-
He Tian sits up straighter.
“I didn’t get it but try again,” He Tian tells him.
The guy has tossed the pen back on the table, while He Tian wasn’t looking. He’s reaching for his book.
Giving up? No. Oh, no.
“Again,” He Tian repeats, feeling a sense of urgency spike in him. He points at the first character. “This one, again. I’ll get it now.”
The guy looks at He Tian. The moment feels long. He might be regretting the whole thing. Well, fuck that. They’ve come so far. He Tian does his best to look charming.
Come on, He Tian thinks. I’m worth the trouble. You’ve already written it out and everything. If the guy just tries again, he will memorise it now.
“Mo.”
Oh, thank god.
“Mo,” He Tian repeats.
More of that unnerving stare. He Tian’s pronunciation must pass the guy’s judgment.
“Guan,” second character. “Tian.” Third character.
Hmm. He Tian finds that strange because Tian is in his own name and that’s not how it’s written.
“Mo Guan Tian,” He Tian tries. The guy shakes his head.
“Shan.” The guy’s lips are further apart than what He Tian was doing. He Tian shapes the form in his mouth. Shan.
“Mo Guan Shan,” He Tian says.
A tiny shrug, but the guys seems approving.
He Tian scans the expression on the guy’s face.
He Tian must have gotten it right.
Fuck yes. Holy shit.
It’s an intense sort of ecstasy to figure it out. Fuck yeah. He Tian’s so stupidly proud of himself. He grins, feeling giddy, breathless.
The guy blinks.
He seems confused that He Tian’s so proud over a small accomplishment. He Tian is happy though, and he’s feeling contagious - his grin gets wider. He got it right. Hell yeah.
That gets him a tiny bit of a reaction. Redhead’s features soften, crease between his brows less pronounced. He almost smiles back.
The reaction surprises even the guy himself. In a second it isn’t there anymore, his face schooling itself back to blank.
The guy pushes the pen and appointment book across the table, so it’s firmly on He Tian’s side of it. He picks up his book, ignoring He Tian again.
He Tian is fucking immune to the attempt at space.
Mo Guan Shan.
He Tian is so stupidly pleased.
“Nice to meet you Mo Guan Shan,” he says. The guy glances up. The frown isn’t quite the same anymore. The guy holds his stare for a second longer, then turns back to the book.
*
He Tian can feel the silence between them like a physical presence in the air.
He Tian usually likes quiet trips, amazingly enough. The redhead threw that out of the window. He Tian might go insane if he doesn’t come up with a way to talk with him again soon.
He’s managed two more interactions with the guy since then, not even twenty seconds in total, which consisted of-
He Tian throwing a paper ball at him, catching him completely off guard. The guy looking at him like ‘are you kidding me?’ and He Tian smiling.
And-
“How about age?”
A glance up.
He Tian opens both hands to show all fingers, and then he closes and opens them again, then he closes and holds up one finger. He points to himself.
“21,” he says out loud, just to help it along.
Mo looks at him like He Tian is dumb.
Meh, Redhead’s usually looking like that. He Tian is pretty much immune. He turns up his charm, the kind of winning smile that works on girls.
Silence. He Tian thinks it’s deliberate, like Mo is making some kind of point.
Then Mo pulls the appointment book and pen closer to him and writes down 20.
Oh.
Right. Numbers are the same.
Mo somehow manages to make two digits condescending. He Tian adores him.
“Nice,” he says. Mo had already turned back.
And… nothing else since.
He Tian tried to entertain himself with the train around him. He contemplated the walls. The seat upholstery. This really cool looking floor. Flooooor. The mountains that he could see outside in the passing afternoon light.
It might be possible that He Tian’s bored.
Redhead looks beautiful in the passing afternoon light. His hair almost shines, framing him in an atypical kind of beauty.
He flips another page on his book. He Tian’s drawn to the movement.
Redhead bites his nails, He Tian notices. Huh. The nails are short, some of the cuticle bitten as well. He might be anxious. He Tian wants to ask him about it. Not the nails exactly, just the thought behind it. He wants to ask about what keeps the guy up, what kind of anxieties he may feel, the thoughts that run wild through the guy’s mind. The guy wouldn’t understand him, but He Tian finds that he would like to ask, somehow.
The language barrier sits like a brick wall between them. His frustration grows thicker by the minute. How the fuck can he talk? How can he make himself understood?
He Tian drums his fingers against the little table. The guy glances at it, hint of a frown. He Tian shakes his head.
No, nothing Redhead, go read the book.
After a moment, the guy accepts it. He turns back.
Fuck. He Tian needs a plan.
Hmmm.
*
What they need, He Tian decides, is hand shadows.
God, He Tian is just so brilliant, with such amazing ideas. What they need is definitely hand shadows.
Mo glances up curiously when He Tian closes the curtain. He Tian just shrugs at him. Wait and see, honey.
He Tian pulls out his phone. With one hand he holds the flashlight against the curtain, and with the other he prepares a shape. Mo puts his book down on his lap.
Mo puts the book down.
Mo literally put the book down to watch He Tian’s latest shenanigans. Fuck yeah. He Tian 3, book 2. Take that, book.
He Tian has a theory that Mo just subconsciously gives his attention to He Tian. It’s like Mo’s drawn to him too. Mo’s curious at the odd foreigner trying to talk to him, at the very least. He might be a little drawn in himself. The chemistry they could have together is brilliant. He Tian is still going to explain that they need to kiss, he can feel it, shadow puppets are just the first step.
Showtime.
…and he has no idea what shape to make actually. He Tian was never good with shadow puppets.
Mo raises an eyebrow at him. Ugh. He Tian gestures for him to look at the shadow again.
Stick to the basics, He Tian thinks. He unclenches his fist and makes a rabbit.
At first he can’t quite figure out the angle until- there. That’s definitely a rabbit. He is a born natural at everything he sets himself to do.
The bunny has big ears, hopping across the curtain.
He is called Mo Junior, He Tian decides. Fluffy and angry. He Tian even makes it pauses and snatch a leaf off the ground. The whole thing entertains him more than it should.
Mo says a sentence in Chinese, a little smirk in the corner of his mouth. He Tian has the distinct feeling he’s being made fun of.
He Tian’s immune to it because he made a rabbit, bitches. Fuck yeah shadow hand puppets.
Mo crosses his arms and says another word, watching the shadow. His tone less sharp this time. He might be indulging He Tian.
Oh.
That’s very nice but He Tian didn’t think this through.
“Are you guessing- wait,” He Tian looks at him, “how are you gonna guess what it is if I can't understand what you say? Dammit.”
Mo says whatever he'd said again. He Tian shrugs helplessly at him. He Tian has no way in hell of getting it.
Mo rolls his eyes. He says the word he’d said again and... holy shit. Mo imitates ears with his hands, limp wrists, to convey the message.
He Tian bursts out laughing.
“Yeah,- holy shit, you're so cute. hahaha yeah, it was a rabbit.”
Hey, being flipped off is still the same in Chinese! Huh. He Tian learns something new everyday. He Tian’s eyes fall to Mo’s long middle finger.
Mo is not angry, He Tian thinks, just embarrassed. His little Mo is sensitive to being teased. He Tian stores that information carefully for later. Embarrassment and anger look the same on Mo - like menace, but with Mo’s cheeks flushed the most lovely shade of pink.
The finger falls down. The movement forces He Tian to look away.
Mo’s eyes meet his, fucking beautiful, just as fierce as before. He Tian genuinely feels like he might be loosing his mind. Mo played along for a second. Even though he looks like the kind of guy that doesn’t play along with anything. He guessed the animal at the shadow game. He Tian licks his lips. Mo might be a little curious. Mo might- Mo glances down, frowns. Mo might be swayed by He Tian’s attempts at communication. He Tian swears he might-
Mo looks away. He reaches back and snatches the curtains open again.
Alright, alright. Mimics over.
He Tian will still count this one as a win.
*
“How about music?”
Mo doesn’t look at him. He Tian mimics air drums, and air guitar. Nothing. He sings on an air microphone on a stage. “Laaaaaa. Music? You know. Lalala, do rey mi. Music.”
Mo has a blank face, staring at the book. Of course. He Tian is not defeated.
“You must know some songs in English,” He Tian tries again. “We could communicate with music.”
He Tian does a shimmy. Maybe that will get the wheels turning. Music, you know?
“Music, you know?”
Mo flips another page. He Tian can’t tell if he’s amused, if it’s working. He Tian will interpret it as indulgence anyway because he can.
“Baby can't you see,” he starts, “I'm calling. A guy like you, should wear a warning.”
Mo finally looks at him. His face morphed into an universal look for 'are you goddamn kidding?’.
“It's dangerous,” He Tian continues, moving an inch closer across the table, “I'm falling.”
Mo pushes his face down. He Tian does fall.
Ouch.
“Momo, you’re so mean to me.” He Tian caresses his head.
Mo might be hiding a corner of the mouth smile at his misfortune. It’s subtle, but it’s there. He’s beautiful. His tiny repressed smile is beautiful. He Tian would let him laugh at He Tian any day.
The table is great actually. What a nice little table. He Tian leans his face more comfortably. He glances up at Momo.
“We’re on to something here baby, can’t you feel it? All this tension?” He Tian wiggles his eyebrows, and gestures between the two of them.
Mo Guan Shan has many different long suffering looks. He Tian will call this one Long Suffering 22 - cute and angry about it. Yeah, Mo can feel the tension. He Tian knows he can.
He Tian crosses his arms on the table and rests on them. Just for a moment. One moment more to enjoy the company of this beautiful stranger.
Mo can definitely feel the tension. Hmmhmm.
*
“…wha? What?”
He opens his eyes. Mo is shaking his shoulder. He says something in Chinese.
What the..?
“I was napping,” He Tian understand. That’s around the same time he notices the crick in his neck and warm hand on his shoulder. He really did nap. Huh.
The table is nice though. He’s not in a hurry.
Mo presses a little harder against his shoulder. He says something more and points at He Tian’s seat.
Is he… pushing He Tian back to his seat? Really?
Does He Tian smell or something? Does He Tian really bother him just by lying there? This is ridiculous.
He Tian stares at him in disbelief. His hurt uncurls, taking up space, volite under the surface.
“The little table is shared.” He Tian knows how to drip his voice in ice. “I paid for the entire fucking train compartment Mo Guan Shan, you can’t tell me I can’t lean on the table. Buy yourself a better seat.”
Mo frowns. The hand slips away from He Tian.
Something in his expression is strange. He Tian can’t place it.
Mo points at his own shoulder and winces, mimicking pain. He points at He Tian and then at the table beneath him.
Oh.
Oh.
He was-
He Tian lifts up slowly. “You were worried about me?”
Mo looks away.
He was worried. He must have been. Holy shit.
It’s not often that He Tian has someone looking out for him. He Tian isn’t sure what to do with it.
Mo turns back to the book now, a crease between his eyebrows. The feigned indifference doesn’t sit right in Mo’s face. He Tian watches his expression.
“Thank you Momo.”
Mo glances up. The crease between Mo’s eyebrows deepens.
“…what?” He Tian asks.
Mo looks around for a second and then pulls out his phone and holds it in front of He Tian’s face. Oh. He Tian’s reflection has a mark along his right cheek. He Tian’s thumb was digging into his skin.
Oh. Shit, that’s embarrassing.
“…tell you what though,” He Tian starts, sensing opportunity, “How about you laugh at me and we consider ourselves even?”
Mo blinks, face neutral.
“How about it, huh?” He Tian insists. “Make fun of me. I promise I’ll behave and we ignore that I was rude or whatever.”
It doesn’t work. Mo pulls his phone back. He checks the time and puts it away. Aaaand there’s the book again.
He Tian resists the temptation to yell at a pillow.
Still, in spite of it, He Tian feels like he’s making progress, somehow. Mo slouches further against his seat. This time around, the silence doesn’t feel stifling. He Tian watches him and quietly enjoys the company.
*
The catering lady that opens the door to their compartment frowns, visibly thrown off. It’s the empty seats, He Tian wagers. The rest of the train must be better distributed than that.
He Tian was wondering when catering service was gonna come around. In the first class, He Tian knows, it would have been at some point two and a half hours ago. He Tian hates traveling coach.
The surprise doesn’t deter the lady for long. Her customer service smile perfectly in place, and she pushes the cart all the way to their row.
She speaks, handing them both menus and gesturing to different options available in her cart. Her words are in quick Chinese. He Tian can only assume she’s asking what they want.
He Tian takes a look at the menu. He scans the Chinese characters and associated pictures. Nothing was given as a courtesy, he notes. In the first class they offer you a glass of wine, or a beer and some peanuts. He Tian can’t spot the beer at all in the menu, not even with a price. Traveling coach is the fucking worst.
Before he can order, Mo talks to the lady in Chinese. He Tian glances up at him.
Mo’s voice continues to be lovely.
They have a quiet conversation, Mo and the lady. Mo didn’t open his own menu. He hands it back to the lady without looking at anything.
The conversation goes on. He Tian’s curiosity spikes.
If Mo’s not ordering… what the hell are they talking about then? Fuck. The curiosity will fucking kill him. What in the goddamn hell.
The lady smiles. He Tian decides right then and there that he hates her.
Fuck her and her ability to say words to Mo. He Tian wants to get up and join Mo on Mo’s side of the seat, a nice arm secured around Mo’s shoulders. Goddammit.
Almost as if reading his thoughts, Mo glances at He Tian. He Tian holds his eyes.
‘What? What is it?’
Mo says something else to the lady, eyes still locked with He Tian’s. The lady exclaims a little “oh,” and turns back to her cart.
“I’m sorry sir, I assumed you were Chinese. We have the menu in English too, let me trade that for you.” She reaches for the correct one in her cart and switches it with the one in He Tian’s hands. She’s proficient at it. “Would you like to order anything sir?”
He Tian flips the cover of the menu open when his fingers freeze. His brain, sluggish from the trip, needs another moment to process.
She speaks English.
Holy shit.
She speaks English.
He Tian makes eye contact with Mo again. Mo frowns.
‘What?,’ he seems to be the one to ask this time.
‘The lady speaks English, Mo Guan Shan.’ He Tian tries to send back. He Tian has someone who can help him communicate with Mo. He Tian could fucking weep at the thought.
He Tian no longer hates the lady. He Tian can talk her into helping. He just needs to be polite and say the right thing, something he has never struggled with, ever.
Never ever.
“What were you two talking about?” He Tian starts almost immediately.
Shit.
It’s not what he thought would come out of his mouth, but whatever. His curiosity is killing him.
The lady’s oblivious to his jealousy.
“Oh, the young man was wondering why the compartment was so empty, when he takes the train it is fuller than that. Isn’t it strange? I told him I don’t understand either. The rest of the train isn’t like this.”
He Tian’s entertained. She’s clearly very easily drawn into conversation. Her pronunciation is perfect, but it pushes words into a pace akin to spoken Chinese, even though in English the emphasis of the sentences would be different. The accent is thick on words with ‘r’.
“Maybe there was a bug with the booking system? II don’t know. I told him it also caught me by surprise.”
Hmm.
He Tian processes. Mo takes this train somewhat often. Mo knows how many people are usually around. He Tian wonders why. He feels so goddamn curious.
The lady smiles again. “So, can I get you anything? We have snacks, desserts, both hot and cold beverages-“
“How about those long neck beers you guys used to give?”
“The long neck…?”
Language barrier. He Tian draws an outline with his fingers. Long neck beers.
“Oh! Those are first class sir. They’re not on the menu.”
…yes. He Tian noticed. He Tian just wants a beer. He dials up the smile.
“I’m a frequent traveller. Can you work something out for me?”
She hesitates.
“We can’t bring first class cold-drinks to the economy class, sir.”
“I tip.” He Tian lets his smile turn just a hint more suggestive. “I tip very well.”
The lady seems uncertain. “I’m- I’m not sure that’s possible sir. I’d have to ask my supervisor.”
Fucking hell.
He Tian fucking hates travelling coach.
He Tian’s eyes slide away from her, back at Mo across the table.
Well. Sometimes coach has its merits.
Mo is annoyed now, silent anger shifting his expression. …that’s unexpected. He Tian has no fucking clue why, he didn’t do anything to provoke Mo. Maybe Mo just experiences rage from time to time, like a hobby, for the fun of it.
Thinking of Mo…
“Mo didn’t order anything, right?”
The lady pauses. “No sir, he didn’t.”
“Tell him to choose something,” He Tian says. “Whatever he wants. On me. Tell him it’s payment for annoying him earlier.”
A moment while the lady passes along He Tian’s message. As the words register, Mo raises his eyebrows. He answers half turned, still looking at He Tian.
“He says you’re still annoying him right now.”
Haha. Hilarious.
“Tell him he has an amazing sense of humour. I mean it, he can pick whatever he wants from the cart. I’ll pay.”
She passes it along.
Mo crosses his arms. He probably thinks he is scary. He Tian’s half tempted to poke him in the muscles.
When the lady finishes speaking, Mo considers the offer. Well, at least he’s not rejecting it altogether. He Tian studies Mo’s face for signs of a reaction.
If He Tian had just offered to pay for something, he’s pretty sure Mo would have said no. It’s the phrasing here, like it is in exchange for being annoying, that is giving Mo pause. Mo can get behind some payment for his troubles. It hasn’t been long, but He Tian might have gotten Mo figured out.
Mo answers, arms still crossed, looking at He Tian. He Tian senses challenge in the air. He can’t wait for the translation.
“He says if you’re paying he’ll have one of everything."
“Deal.”
“Wait- seriously?”
The lady’s perplexed.
He Tian rolls his eyes and pulls out a black card from the wallet on his front pocket.
Mo’s beginning to feel confused too, not sure what’s happening. He’s frowning a little. The bravado fades a notch or two. He Tian’s distantly amused by it.
“I mean it,” He Tian says, looking at the lady this time. “One of each.”
She hesitates. Finally, she reaches inside her chart and starts placing food on their table. Mo’s eyes widen. He’s sits up straighter on his chair.
Quick Chinese, in a fast pace.
“He says you’re- uh. I’m not going to translate that, it’s rude.” He Tian lets out a surprised laugh. “He says he was joking. He wouldn’t know what to do with so much food.”
Mo shouldn’t challenge people if he can’t play. He Tian shrugs.
“Well, he can have it. He can choose something or I’ll just buy one of each anyway. Make it two.”
She translates it for.
Mo stares for a long moment, like he’s making some kind of point. Like He Tian is insane. The seconds tick by in the sudden heavy atmosphere in the room. Then Mo takes a look at the cart.
Oh, fucking finally.
Step one of choosing food is to actually look at it.
A few moments in silence, train-over-train-tracks steady in the background. Mo finally speaks Chinese.
“He wants a sandwich,” the lady translates.
“Get him a sandwich then,” He Tian says immediately. He’s forming the beginning of a plan. “Do you have chocolate?”
The lady looks down at her own cart. “We have chocolate cake slices?”
That works. “I want that too.”
He Tian will feed Mo and impress him with sweets. He’s got this, the plan is fucking fail proof.
Payment goes through and the lady gives him back his card. Mo takes the sandwich without any fanfare, but he seems happy enough about it. Win/win, as far as He Tian is concerned.
He Tian’s feeling a hesitation he rarely experiences these days. He still has to decide what he wants the lady to translate when it comes to kissing. His opening line has to be perfect. He considers his words very carefully.
Mo notices a drop of sauce that slipped and cleans it up with his thumb.
“Can you ask him something?” He Tian says, still watching.
The lady nods. Great. He Tian turns to her and smiles, very polite.
“Can you ask him if he’s single and if he wants to kiss?”
…and that’s not the reaction from the lady that He Tian was expecting.
The lady blinks at He Tian like He Tian just stepped on a baby. Dammit. The fuck did he do now?
“This is absurd sir,” she barely conceals her revulsion. “I have a boyfriend and in either case I am too professional to-“
Wait. Hang on, no-
“I don't want you to flirt with him, that's not what I-“
“I am here doing my job sir-“
“I just want you to ask him if he’s single!”
“-and I will not be disrespected! I was helping you, sir, this is absurd.”
The lady pulls the menus back into her cart and just- pushes the cart forward. She’s leaving them behind. He Tian hadn’t even tipped yet.
…what?
Mo raises an eyebrow. He seems to ask 'what was that about?'. Oh boy. He Tian wishes he could explain this one.
The lady opens the door to the next compartment. He Tian thinks fast.
“Wait, hang on. Can you ask him about the book he's reading?”
The lady pauses. She doesn’t turn around, but she looks over her shoulder at him. She does a long, long glance over, deeply unsure. He Tian tried to look unthreatening, which is an odd look on him.
Finally, she says something in Chinese.
In front of him, Mo frowns again. He flips the book so He Tian can see the cover.
Food. A traditional Chinese meal with a rice bowl and bowls for meat and vegetables. The colors are very bright.
“Schoolwork,” the lady tells him. “Gastronomy.”
He Tian had already forgotten about the lady. Mo makes everything else fade away. He Tian glances back and thanks her. She nods and closes the door behind her.
Gastronomy. Mo is a cook then. And a student. That's cool. He Tian updates his mental list of information he was able to learn. This might work yet.
*
He Tian is going crazy here. How does he successfully kiss the guy? They really should kiss. For real. There has to be a way to send the message across. At times like this He Tian wishes he could have a smoke.
Mo takes another bite of his cake. He Tian is on his own personal hell. He watches Mo’s lips, his hands, his fingers on the spoon.
Mo’s fingers look fucking indecent on the spoon.
He Tian can't stop looking. Mo chews, and the spoon cuts again into the cake. He Tian watches like it is an adult film just for him, late at night on paper-per-view. Fuck.
Maybe He Tian just needs to get laid.
He really, really, needs to kiss this guy. It would be so hot, he swears, He Tian could make it slow, could make it sensual, no fucking air between them. Redhead takes a bite. After a moment he frowns, looking down, like he missed something, and runs his thumb along his bottom lip.
Oh fuck.
Okay, enough. He Tian has to find a way to tell him. There has to be a way.
Hmmm.
He Tian has an idea. He brings both hands up.
This might work, he thinks.
He closes his hands like he is wearing hand puppets. Yeah, this might work. Mimics, right? Thinking outside the box.
Mo looks at him. He Tian knew he could draw his eyes. He Tian opens and closes one hand, like it is talking. Showtime.
*
It might be possible that He Tian gets caught up in it.
“It was love at first sight,” one of his hands is saying. “From the moment I laid eyes on you I knew we were meant to be Momo.”
The hand puppet doesn't, necessarily, have eyes, but it's all very symbolic. Metaphors and shit. He Tian is good at this.
“Please let me have a kiss. I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”
He's getting really into it now.
“Oh He Tian, you are so cool and handsome-“ the other hand is saying, “of course you can kiss me.”
And then the two hands kiss.
Mo is looking at him like he has gone insane.
He Tian is brilliant. This was the best idea he’s ever had, Mo is definitely understanding, even if he’s embarrassed. This was genius. He Tian imitates the kissing sounds.
“Oh, you weren't asking me to flirt with him. I misunderstood.”
He Tian jumps in his chair.
…what the f-
The catering service lady is standing in their row.
“…where the fuck did you come from?”
“Ah- the catering? Sir. You want beer. My supervisor said it’s okay.”
Right.
“And how long have you been there?”
Lady doesn’t exactly answer. “You seemed busy sir,” she says.
Right.
Mo has this little smirk on him. Mo is blushing, he is definitely embarrassed himself. But apparently even when he's embarrassed he can still enjoy He Tian's mortification.
Boo, boring.
He Tian puts his tongue out at him. Mo immediately flips him off.
He Tian should be offended but a delighted sort of pleasure is bubbling up in him. Mo is so fun. He Tian must be grinning like an idiot.
The lady clears her throat.
“Do you still want me to ask him sir?”
…what?
He Tian’s slow on the uptake.
“Ask him what?”
“You wanted me to ask if he's single.”
Oh.
He Tian looks back at Mo. Mo meets his eyes.
“…nah,” He Tian says, looking into deep hazel. Mo’s eyes seem very bright when the light hits them right. “Nah, I think I got the message across.”
Mo’s waiting for some kind of indication of what the conversation is, not managing to hide his curiosity. He Tian’s reminded of a cat with twitching ears again. It’s hard to explain what they were talking about in a way that Mo would understand it though, the fucking language barrier sitting between them all over again. Mo will just have to deal with the curiosity.
“Alright,” the lady agrees, easy enough.
Mo looks away. He crosses his arms, leans back against the seat. It’s amusing. He’s shit at faking indifference.
The lady has opened the beer and is pouring it on a glass for He Tian. He Tian had almost forgotten what she was here for. The beer comes with peanuts. He throws one up and catches it with his teeth. Mo’s visually impressed.
Cat. With twitching ears.
He Tian smiles to himself and Mo clearly doesn’t understand why.
*
At some point, it dawns on He Tian that since Mo can’t understand what He Tian says, He Tian can say whatever he wants.
He can say anything.
Anything at all. It’s like a superpower.
“Penis,” He Tian says.
He Tian watches closely.
Mo shifts another page, finger light on the page. He doesn’t even look He Tian’s way.
“Peeeeenis,” He Tian tries again.
…no, no reaction from Mo.
Huh.
In the following two minutes He Tian tries all genitals and dirty words words he can think of. Urban dictionary for filth, au de English. It’s fantastic. There’s a childish thrill in just saying stuff out loud.
Something gets a subtle shift of Mo’s lips, his face turned away. Maybe the words he recognizes from TV. It’s like cocaine to He Tian, he experiences a high every time Mo reacts.
And, as it turns out, he can make Mo react quite a lot.
“Wiener.”
A huff of air. Mo’s eyebrows almost challenge him to do better. He Tian never backed down form a challenge.
“Dangler. Boner. Balls. Prick. Bollocks. Ass. Doing the bow chika wow wow. Dick.”
One of those is too much for Mo to ignore. Mo’s turning to him with a ‘must you?’ expression.
Oh, hell yeah.
Mo turned to him. He Tian’s almost vibrating with excitement.
“Which one was it Momo?” There’s a happy little tilt to his voice. “Dick? It was dick, wasn’t it? Dick. Diiiiick. Dick. Dick dick dick dick dick.”
“He Tian…” Mo says, disparagement heavy in his tone.
Hell yes.
“Coooooock. Cock, cock, cock, cock-”
“He Tian."
“The D. Ding dong. Love Shaft. 100% All-Beef Thermometer.”
Mo does Long Suffering Look 14 - why must the world subject me to this? Why must I suffer? Why me?
He Tian drowns on the giddy thrill of being the one who did it, being the one who got him to react, even if it is exasperation. Fuck yeah.
He Tian has to give it to Mo though, for the most part Mo is impassive. He doesn’t know if Mo genuinely doesn’t know most of the words or if he just has a beautiful poker face. Or if he doesn’t know any of the words at all and even when he was reacting, he was reacting to He Tian’s tone, the tilt of his voice. He Tian can’t be sure. It doesn’t matter why, though. He Tian feels such a simple, childish pleasure.
It’s addictive. He Tian could live in the happy warmth he gets from his beautiful stranger.
Mo catches him watching, after he’s been silent for a while. He raises an eyebrow at He Tian, in question. He Tian doesn’t know what to tell him.
Then he remembers, right, redhead can’t understand anyway. What does He Tian have to lose?
And then he thinks it again, with intention this time, sitting up straighter against the train seat. What does he have to lose?
“You are breathtaking Momo,” He Tian says, surprised by the raw honesty in his own voice.
Mo, naturally, doesn’t answer.
Yeah.
Fuck, He Tian might be going crazy.
“I’ve known you for, like, an hour and a half? I never felt this, I swear Mo. I’ve been doing every silly thing that I can think of just to get your attention on me. Just to- just to catch your eyes.”
The eyes in question feel heavy on him, the same intensity from before.
…no hint of understanding though. He Tian can almost hear the elevator music playing in the background between them, the banality of an interaction with a stranger, how literally nothing above that is registering at all.
He Tian searches for something in there. Anything he could work with. A hint that Mo’s feeling what He Tian is feeling too, that this is mutual, that Mo can feel it, anything at all-
Nothing. The language barrier sits like a wall of concrete. Plus, Mo is hard to read anyway.
Fuck.
“I’m an idiot,” He Tian murmurs, and runs a hand through his hair.
It falls right back over his face again. Mo watches the movement, not realizing that he’s being caught staring.
“You think I'm hot Momo.” He Tian knows as he says it that it’s true. “I'm annoying you but it's also turning you on, for some confusing reason, and you can't make yourself look away.”
He Tian is absolutely certain of it. Mo is into him. It’s true, though He Tian isn’t quite sure if he’s saying it out loud to tease or out of desperation or as a buck-wild attempt at hypnosis. You think I’m hot Mo, he imagines himself saying while swinging a pocket watch. You want to kiss me. Fuck, might as well. He’s running out of options here.
Mo is watching him. Still not getting it though.
Fuck.
He Tian’s frustration spikes, hurt-confusion-want drowning him. He Tian knocks a hand against the little table.
“Having your attention makes any silly thing that I can think of saying worth it,” He Tian tells him, surprising even himself with strength of it. “I’m going crazy. Please let me kiss you.”
Mo-
Mo just blinks at him. He glances at He Tian’s hand on the table, a hint of a frown. He doesn’t seem scared though, just curious.
Still nothing there.
Right.
He Tian- he already knew it wouldn’t work. He’s not disappointed. He’s not.
He Tian sighs.
“Uh,” He Tian tries instead. “ Tick-tack-toe?”
Mo knocks him the fuck out at tick-tack-toe. Who knew.
Mo has a pleased little grin when he wins for the fifth time in a row. He Tian can’t be too mad about it.
Everyone once in a while, He Tian looks up and he swears Mo was already looking, frowning, like he’s trying to puzzle something out. Sometimes He Tian combs his fingers through his hair and Mo’s eyes trace the movement, before he snaps out of it, a huff or air escaping his lips.
The fading afternoon light leaves a faint flush on Mo’s cheeks. That, more than the game, makes He Tian consider this one a win.
*
The train is approaching the… Hangzhou station? Which is a few stations before where He Tian was planning to leave at but Mo is gathering his things. Mo is putting his book on his bag, and picking up the plastic bag he had left on the table. He’s about to leave.
It takes He Tian a second to even understand what is even happening.
Mo is about to leave.
The rush of adrenaline leaves He Tian dizzy.
No, he cannot let Mo walk away. This isn’t over yet, He Tian knows it isn’t. He gets up and starts gathering his things too. He pulls his bag and designer coat from the overhead compartment. It will be cold outside. He slips on the coat.
Mo glances at him, not pausing in closing the backpack zipper. He doesn’t seem surprised.
Oh.
He’s not surprised. He Tian shouldn’t read too much into it, though of course he already is.
Approaching a big station feels like coming back to reality. Every meter closer wakes him up, like they had been suspended in a dream for a few hours until now. The approaching station shatters the atmosphere, brings back a sense of time, all the shit that He Tian had pushed to the back of his mind coming back to the surface.
The family business. Fucking hell.
Hangzhou is a big city. If they’re almost at the central station then he has phone service again. He Tian pulls out his phone.
17 missed calls from his brother. The most recent thing is a text message. I hope you know what you’re doing.
He Tian doesn’t. Fuck no, he doesn’t.
But at the same time…
Redhead is waiting at the aisle, just before the sliding doors. He glances up when he feels He Tian’s eyes on him. He nods his head towards the doors, like he’s reminding He Tian that the station is near. He Tian doesn’t know what he’s doing but at the same time- he’s never felt more sure of anything in his life.
He puts the phone away. On the hallway between train cars he picks up his gigantic bag from the luggage rack. Mo has to step back to avoid being hit with it. He makes a face at He Tian. Of course you have an expensive and inconvenient bag, he seems to say. Mo himself only has the backpack and the plastic bag.
He Tian uses the train slowing down as a reason to grab Mo’s shoulder. Mo holds both of their weight, more out of surprise than anything, little huff of air, and doesn’t even think to push He Tian away. That feels like He Tian’s biggest win of the afternoon.
At the train station, a woman is waiting for Mo. Mom, probably, He Tian would say, based on the family resemblance. When she notices Mo her expression glows bright, filled with warmth. She gives Mo a bear hug. Mo looks very happy to see her. He hands her the plastic bag when they pull away, and she smiles at Mo like Mo is just too kind.
He Tian feels awkward, standing a few steps back. It’s strange to see family affection like this. He Tian’s definitely not used to it.
Maybe he shouldn’t have followed a stranger out of a train. The family moment is private, and He Tian definitely doesn’t belong. He should- get a hotel. Get a taxi.
Around them, a lot of other similar moments are happening. A woman with kids getting off the train, a guy kneeling and the kids running straight into his open arms. Their hug looks tight, and good. The kids are laughing when they pull away.
There’s a couple a few other steps away. They’re glancing softly at each other before they even come within touching distance. When she’s close enough the guy caresses her cheek, and she smiles, just this side of shy.
Some teens in sports attire are meeting other teens, hugs and packs on the back, one of them with a six pack and nachos under his arms.
He Tian has travelled a million times and he doesn’t think he has ever had someone wait at the station for him. He doesn’t think he’s ever had anyone looking so happy to see him, like it’s a good thing that he’s there. He pushes back the bitterness. It’s not time for it. He should… get a taxi, he guesses.
Mo’s looking at him. Oh. He seems like he’s been looking for a while.
Mo says something in Chinese. The woman, probably-Mo’s-mom, smiles at He Tian.
Oh.
Something fragile washes over He Tian. He’d give a lot of money to know what Mo said. He waves, and he knows even as he does that it probably looks awkward. Fuck. His hand falls back to his side.
Probably-Mo’s-Mom is still looking kind and receptive. Mo’s expression is harder to read.
Another train sound behind him startles him out of it. Right. He Tian has a moment to think introductions will be awkward without being able to properly talk.
Except-
He has phone service here. He has internet access.
Oh.
Oh.
That also means- he can say what he’s been meaning to say to Mo.
Fuck.
He Tian takes out his phone and opens Google Translate.
English to Chinese
My name is He Tian. I'm Chinese, but I don't speak the language. My mother died when I was a baby and my father moved to Japan, and then to the US, and further. We moved many times over the years. I don’t know much besides hi and my name. I’m 21 now.
The thought of introducing himself makes He Tian nervous which is insane because it’s nothing compared to everything he’s been doing these past few hours. Having a normal conversation should be the easy one.
He shows Mo the phone with unsteady fingers. He is willing Mo to understand. He needs Mo to know him. He needs Mo to get it, somehow.
Mo's eyes scans through the words, flying from left to right. He Tian has never been so nervous.
Come on.
Please get it.
Please, please, please.
When Mo's done reading, he frowns. He takes the phone and types for a moment.
Chinese to English
I already know all that.
Oh.
Oh.
He Tian takes the phone back.
English to Chinese
I really want to kiss you.
This time He Tian gets a blush.
Chinese to English
I know that too.
The feeling in He Tian’s chest is hard to put into words. The whole worlds stands suspended for a second, even the sounds fading in the background.
Mo still has his phone. He glances up, but he huffs whatever he sees in He Tian’s face. Blind adoration, probably. He looks away. He types on He Tian’s phone some more.
Chinese to English
You’re batshit insane. You know, right?
Yeah, he did know that.
He Tian’s feeling so giddy, he can barely contain himself. No offense in the world could hurt him right now. He can’t take the phone back fast enough.
English to Chinese
Do you like men?
Mo glances up at probably-his-mom before he answers that one.
Chinese to English
Yeah, and apparently I have shit taste at it.
Mo is tapping his forefinger on He Tian’s screen, still holding the phone.
Mo’s mom is watching them. Curiosity is evident in her bright eyes, but she’s giving them privacy. She has opened the plastic bag now. It was homemade jam, in unlabeled glass pots. She has a strawberry one open and is smelling it, but her attention in on the two of them, He Tian can tell. At least she’s being discreet, he figures.
And it’s not like she could eavesdrop anyway.
Mo taps his finger two, three more times than sets the phone straight and types again. He’s fast at it, like he’s working on an impulse. It makes He Tian extra curious for what will be written.
Chinese to English
Where’s your hotel?
He Tian’s eyebrows raise a little.
English to Chinese
Near Jade Buddha temple.
Chinese to English
…in Shanghai?
You weren’t actually getting out at Hangzhou, were you.
Mo is a genius. He’s really good at this deducing the obvious thing.
He Tian’s silence lingers.
Mo frowns, and deletes what he’s written and types something else again.
Chinese to English
Did your rich ass have anything to do with the empty seats on the train?
He Tian’s expression must speak for itself. They’re great at this non-spoken communication thing. Mo rolls his eyes.
Chinese to English
Why did you buy out every single seat except for one?
English to Chinese
I didn’t. You were on the wrong seat.
Mo says out loud a soft little oh.
He’s so cute. He Tian wants to smooth out his eyebrows.
Most of the commotion around them has ended by now. He Tian glances around.
Well. A train station is never really quiet, but they’re some of few ones left at this platform.
Probably-Mo’s-Mom clears her throat.
Noticing it makes Mo look guilty, glancing up at her. She’s closed the jam jars again, and is just watching. She must have been tired of being left out. He Tian smiles, apologetic.
He Tian’s starving. There must be a restaurant somewhere near the station that he could take Mo and probably-Mo’s-mom to eat at.
He Tian still has his phone. He types at it again.
English to Chinese
For the record, I’m glad you were on the wrong seat.
When they start heading out, it-is-in-fact-Mo’s-mom in front of them, with them out of her line of sight, He Tian slides his forefinger up Mo’s palm. Mo lets out air, Long Suffering Look #32 - fuck you’re embarrassing He Tian, but he walks just a step closer. He Tian will consider this one a win as well.