Wangji stands outside the ceremony hall entrance. He could hear his pulse clear and accelerating inside him, his palms cold, nerves buzzing in his brain—he's nervous. He's never met anyone this way, he should give himself that, but he's not sure if he has ever reacted this way to a five minutes away text.

A while ago he excused himself from his brother saying he has to get a friend. He's coming to help out, Wangji told him, and Xichen gave him a look which he pretended as if nothing, preferring to not decipher. There's half an hour for the ceremony to begin—he asked Wei Ying to be here with enough time to spare, not too trusting of his nerves that have been weird since yesterday.

Taking a deep breath and letting it out, he looks at his phone again. The picture of Wei Ying he received specifically. He had a satin button-up on, the purple accentuating the pale skin of his chest that peeked through the undone buttons; a silver necklace, the pendant invisible in this angle.

And then there's a voice message. A raspy voice which he had to listen to on a low volume, holding his phone next to his ear, like a whisper. He chews on his lips—he has to work on this tick—he was right to not trust his nerves.

A minute or so passes, and Wangji's phone is ringing. His nerves electrify from his head to the tip of his toes, he doesn't know if he's ready but he clears his throat and picks up. "Hello?"

"Hi, Lan Zhan. I think I'm in front of the place. Should I just come in?"

Wangji almost forgets that this is the first time they're talking on the phone. He clears his throat again. "Yes. You can identify the ceremony hall from the decorations. I'm in front of it."

"Got it. I'm in the taxi that just came in."

But two cars with taxi signs drive past the gate as he watched. Wangji's more eager than he thought he'd be when his eyes follow them. From the first one climbs out a man in a leather jacket, Wangji doesn't even have to notice the satin shirt to know that this person is Wei Ying. He carried the aura. Wangji can't pinpoint what it is.

He's putting Wei Ying's pieces together. It's so weirdly satisfying: the pale skin of his neck to his face, the face to his slightly long hair highlighted in a dark maroon, the shirt to the black straight-legged pants falling short up to the hem of his boots. The quizzical expression he wore looking around, the bottom lip tucked between his teeth. He's existing in his vision whole and alive; for a moment Wangji doesn't know if he can believe it.

Wangji raises a hand in a small wave. Xian's mouth breaks into a gorgeous grin, and he's taking fast steps toward him. "Lan Zhan?" It's a question, and Wangji hums to that.

His brain is short-circuiting wondering what he should do. A handshake, say hello—Xian's arms are around his neck, tiptoeing to reach the noticeable height difference—well, there's no need then. "God," Xian squeals into the hug. "I can't believe this. You're really here."

Wangji chuckles. "I am." He catches a glance at the necklace, it's a tear-shaped pendant shining on his chest.

"God, you're so tall," Xian says, eyes casually roaming on him. "Waistcoat it is. I was so in a rush when I saw your text and was wondering if that's all you're gonna wear." There's a silvery chuckle. "Would have been a treat, though. When is the ceremony starting? I'm not late, right? Okay, I'm already rambling. Please let's go in or I'll talk all day."

Wangji, bemused, feels his lips stretch to a smile. "It's okay. This way."

Xian follows him. The ceremony is to be held outside, with a cocktail party arranged in the hall that opened to the garden. He feels a weird little giddy build-up, wanting to shoe Wei Ying the angelic deco in there. He pointedly reminds himself that they've got time, and takes him inside instead.

"Uh," Wangji clears his throat, catching a glance at the banner displaying the names of the couple. "Is it too late to say that this wedding is of. . . two men?"

Xian blinks. A corner of his lips quirks up. "No. Not at all," he chuckles. "I'm pan—figuring it out still, but mostly pan. So. I'm fine. It's great."

"Oh." Wangji nods. "Well, I guess I should say I'm gay."

Xian grins. "Amazing."

Wangji watches Xian as he looks around: smiling at the names in block cursives, gaze brushing through the food arrangements, scanning through the crowd like he wants to take in the situation he's in, and finally back to him with a smile. Wangji freezes. He's never been good with small talk and he didn't know what to say.

Xian looks away, almost self-consciously. "So, how can I help you?"

"What?"

"You asked me to help you out."

"Oh." Wangji almost forgot the excuse he used. "You can help me with lighting. Hold reflectors and . . . stuff."

"Sure," Xian says. "I can do that much."

"Um. I did the getting-ready shoot already. In the morning. The ceremony is left—we'll be busy then."

Xian nods along.

Recalling the conversation on the chat earlier, Wangji asks, "Have you had breakfast? You said you woke up late."

"Um," Xian falters, surprised. "No?"

Of course not. "You should have told me before," he says, concerned. "Let me get you something."

"Oh, no, I'm fi—"

"Let me."

"It's okay. Let's get to work straight."

"I can't let you help me empty-stomached. Please have some refreshments."

Xian just stares at him, bewildered.

"I haven't had anything since morning either," Wangji lures him. "Shall we?"

Xian giggles. "Okay."

He gets them two plates, take them to the snacks of the savory side, (he recalls that Xian once told him that he doesn't like overly sweet food), and settles on a fancily crafted bench in the hallway outside, away from the crowd. "It's going to be hectic once the ceremony starts," Wangji tells him.

Xian digs in, and Wangji senses that he'd been hungry for a while, and thanks the little bit of common sense he had to ask. The conversation came effortless with Xian telling him about the messy morning he had, from waking up to the hassle of getting ready. He asks how Wangji liked his outfit; it looked so well on him, Wangji couldn't lie.

"I love yours too," he points out. "It's so you." He brushes a finger from the blue silk of his waistcoat to the cotton of his white button-up at the shoulder.

Wangji just huffs a laugh.

At the start of the ceremony, Wangji seemed nervous, busying himself among the crowd, Xian observes. The sunlight provides the perfect lighting for the shoot, so Xian doesn't get to do much, but offers Wangji some ideas thanks to his own experience photographing. Wangji gives him an impressed nod, following his directions.

It becomes a hectic hour just like Wangji said, and consumes a good amount of energy. Xian silently thanks Wangji for being considerate to feed him. Recalling the events, small tingles form in his belly, a smile trying to free itself from his lips—he's always been a sucker for gestures like that. He loved being taken care of.

"So," Xian drawls trying to occupy himself with a different path of thinking, watching the couple climb down to talk to the guests. "Do you do this professionally? As a job, I mean."

Wangji looks up from his camera. "Not entirely." His focus slides back to rolling the knob on the side. "I do gigs here and there for people I know. Weddings, however," he sighs, "are not my thing."

Xian laughs. "How did you end up here, then?"

"They're my brother's friends. And I've done a photo shoot for them before."

Something pings in Xian's head. Does that mean he works with models? Does that mean that portrait—"Have you posted them?" he asks, trying to sound not too curious. "Their photo shoot, I mean."

Wangji glances up caught off guard. "Uh," the single syllable is released from his lips again.

"You have?" Xian prompts.

Wangji purses his lips and nods very slowly like he doesn't really want to reply.

"Oh." The sound escapes before Xian could stop it, struck with realization. "The . . . the bodyscape."

Wangji's shrug comes with feigned indifference. As his focus shifts, Xian amusingly notices the scarlet flush at the tips of his ears. Xian snickers. Wangji pretends not to hear it.

It might be wishful thinking. But if he shot that with a model and posted it, the high probability of the portrait being just another photoshoot was blandly obvious.

Xian hums, satisfied. There's another skeptical glance from Wangji, but Xian doesn't say anything at all.

The events proceed smoothly.

After the long photo shoot of the guests, the first dance proceeds under the sun readying to set. Wangji loved how it looks in his photos, the white dress suits of the couple against the dark green of the garden against the light orange hue of the sky. Satisfied, he takes a glance at Xian who's watching the couple with a longing expression of awe. And suddenly, the scene before him—the gleeful smiles, the soft sway, the light music of Thinking Out Loud lingering in the background—seemed like an unreachable sense of closure. Too fragile to even hope for.

"You know," Xian says. "I don't really believe in marriage . . . but this is something."

"I know."

Xian turns to look at him, surprised and breaks into a smile, sighing. "So . . . will you be too tired for a night out plans after this?"

That recalls Wangji that he'll have to part when the ceremony ends. Time had swept past before he knew it, making it seem like they met up and parted in one breath. It's a pity. "I promised to have dinner with my brother. But after that . . ."

Xian smiles. "How do drinks sound to you?"

A very bad idea. "Okay, I suppose." But he can keep his limits.

"Okay. I discovered this gay bar in the area but didn't have a friend to accompany me. Let's check out the place together. And I'm going to ask you lots of questions. Be ready."

Wangji smirks. "Should I be scared?"

Xian laughs, loving what it does to his face. "Yeah, you should be."

---

Well, after 3 weeks, the meet! XDXD
Hope you enjoyed the read!!!