Come, accept this invitation of the devil to its cave, 
It wants to show you the beam of light that you have made.

-------------------------

<Me>
Wangji, your favorite book is something Shakespearean right?

That's how the first text bubble appeared on my phone under the contact I saved as Lan Zhan. His formal name, well I put it there on purpose. Now that I know it, it's sort of rude to continue calling him Lan Zhan.

<Me>
This is Xian by the way.
Oh wait. Did I tell you my name?
It's Wei Wuxian. Xian for short.

I'm on the living room floor making notes when my phone buzzes. Lan Zhan texts: Hello... Xian... (What's with the dots?) No. It's a book of Chinese proverbs.

I roll my eyes and reply: And you said, "I never thought it's a possibility" about being into literature.

<Lan Zhan>
If I liked literature, wouldn't I like Shakespeare better?

Hm, he's logical. Maybe he's not a poet who tripped off into business after all.

<Me>
Fair enough.

I shut my laptop and text: What classes do you have tomorrow?

Apparently, he takes a combination of Law and Business, which was exclusively requested by his Uncle when he transferred—some annoyance spikes in me whenever he mentions him. We have a few classes together, one tomorrow, and he agrees to go with me.

<Lan Zhan>
Does your brother not join you?

<Me>
Not this one. He changed his schedule because he 'can't stand me' in class. So we only have one or two together.
By the way, what's your favorite song?

<Lan Zhan>
Why all favorites?

<Me>
Told you, I'm trying to get to know you better.
Okay, imagine this. You disappear again. This time you hide in a deserted island, and I come haunting in the dark, cosplaying as a ghost, hard metal version of your favorite song in the background, (Or a ghostly version? You can choose) and read twisted forms of proverbs in your dreams.
Like, ghosting killed the cat.
Haha that sounds weird.

I typed all that, and I get a fucking reply paragraphs long: What is cosplaying?

<Me>
Oh my god. You can't be serious. That's dressing up.
You seriously can't be serious!!

<Lan Zhan>
I am...

I blink a few times looking at it.

<Me>
Forget it
You didn't tell me the song.
Hey, wait. I'm gonna guess it. I'm sure I can get this one right.

Laughing to myself, I send him a video of What's My Age Again, and he doesn't even take a minute to reply.

<Lan Zhan>
That will not be my favorite

That reply is fucking satisfying.

"Who are you texting?" Cheng asks from the armchair, and I realize I've been giggling at the phone.

"No one," I mumble, walking to my room, typing, 'What? That's humor.'

<Lan Zhan>
Your taste of humor is highly questionable.

<Me>
Totally agreed.
I was kidding earlier. Here's the right track. You'll definitely like this one.

This time I send him a track of Take Me To Church, a song I discovered through Xingchen and found strangely meaningful.

I get a reply ten minutes later.

<Lan Zhan>
I do.

Turns out, Lan Zhan wouldn't even think of talking during a lecture. He has this razor-sharp attention when he listens, a constant gaze on the slides, only looking down to take impeccably neat notes.

I've been biting it down, but my hyperactive brain somehow makes me pass him a note that said, 'Wanna join is for lunch?'

He spares a glance at it, scribbles something, and sends it back. It said, 'Okay. Focus.' Who in the world would use such neat handwriting for a note?

After the lecture, Lan Zhan was called into the professor's office. I wait for him outside and when he returns, "Welcome back, Wangji," I tease. "What was that about?"

"I have missed some parts in the program when I transferred. He wants me to cover them before the end of the semester."

"Oh," I say. "I can help you if you want me to." I offer. "I mean, I know we just met after a while, but—"

"Can you?"

I glance sideways at him. He's perfectly serious. "Yeah. Well, I've got practice sometimes. Other than that I have some spare time. I can help you."

"Can you start today?" he asks. He's still serious.

"Whoa," I chuckle. "Okay. I can."

"You can come to my house when you've finished your classes." He's still serious?

"Alright. Text me your address."

He nods, reaching for his phone. I feel a buzz in my pocket. This is fast. "Who's us?" he asks, pushing his phone into his backpack as I lead the way to the cafeteria.

I smirk. "You'll find out."

From the table, Cheng does a double-take, noticing the person behind me. "We've got a new member," Huaisang as usual does his entrance line. He's wearing a silky long coat today.

"Guys, meet Lan Wangji." I sit, joined by Lan Zhan next to me. It's a bit cramped but, manageable. "Wangji meet Huaisang, Xingchen and my brother Cheng. Complete crack heads."

"Hey, hey crack heads and Xingchen," comes from Xingchen.

"The crack head, Xingchen, and Cheng," comes from Cheng.

"Doesn't matter babe, I certainly am a crack head," Huaisang completes. "Anyways, welcome to our humble . . . lunch table, Wangji." Lan Zhan did look amused. I think I should give a bit of credit for Huaisang's off-stage performances.

"'Us' include two more," I tell Lan Zhan. "You can meet then later."

"Hey, he can join us at the club, you know," Huaisang says. "Are you free next Friday?"

"Hey, go easy on him," I tell Huaisang, grabbing Cheng's chopsticks to eat a mouthful ignoring his disapproval.

"I am going easy on him," Huaisang informs. "Wangji, you'll get to see these guys perform. And meet the sweet manager,"—That's too much information, Xingchen groans—"and get drunk. Plus amazing DJ." I look at overly cheerful Huaisang, then at Lan Zhan who seemed to be somewhere in between surprise and amusement, pushing another jab of ramen into my mouth. "Come on, Friday night!"

"I'll see," Lan Zhan finally says and I internally thank Huaisang.

Cheng was the first to leave, muttering something about having an assignment to complete. He stepped on his bag and almost fell, making Xingchen, Huaisang, and I exchange a look.

"Sooo." I manage to catch Lan Zhan before he left for his class. "Can I expect you here tomorrow?"

"I'll see," he says.

"That's the second for today," I pout. "Come on, give a straight answer."

"They're quite interesting." Can that be considered straight?*

"I'll take that as a yes." I wink. "Well, I'm off then. See you later Lan Zh—Wangji." That will take a bit of getting used to.

"Lan Zhan," he says. "Call me Lan Zhan."

"See you later Lan Zhan," I wave, turning toleave with a smile that crept into my face. Lan Zhan, it is.

The day before our gig for which Lan Zhan was invited, I visit the Lan Manor for our fifth study meet-up. How do I know the count? Well, Lan Zhan was organized enough to make a schedule for us. He even set up reminders on my phone. This morning I got a notification, Day 5 – Interval Estimation.

The thing about the Lan manor is, well, by all means, it's a manor. It has an aristocratic look with a modern touch, that made it look unmistakably Lan-like. I ring the doorbell, and the housekeeper opens the door, letting me in.

I find Lan Zhan's brother, Xichen, who shared similar looks as Lan Zhan, in the living room with a laptop on the coffee table. He looks up from his graphs and spreadsheets noticing my arrival. "Hello, Xian," he says with a warm smile.

"Hey, Xichen."

"Wangji must be in his room," he informs.

I say a thank you before taking the stairs taking the usual hallway to Lan Zhan's room on the topmost floor. I open his door and find him on his desk, straight back, neat posture, a pen on his hand, writing on a notebook.

"Okay, now that looks picturesque," I grin.

So I've taken a habit of pointing out things that looked poetic about Lan Zhan. Turns out, it's almost everything. The way he writes: focused and elegant, his room: impeccably simple with an aesthetic touch, he even has some rabbits as pets.

He has this completely wholesome side, which comes to a peak when he caresses his bunnies with a cute little smile. Also, he has a critically analytical mind that can logistically prove why sitting properly can help us finish our work faster.

He's one hell of a perfectly consummate little human. I have a hard time figuring out how that whole personality fits into his body that looks handsome right now in a white button-down and sweats.

I earn a glare from him.

"What?" I laugh. "I'm just telling the obvious. You look good doing almost anything."

He holds that glare for a moment, and I grin in reply. "Don't say what you don't mean."

"I meant it!"

He lets out a sigh, turning back to his book, looking disappointed. I mean, what's wrong with a compliment?

Lan Zhan silently gets his stuff to the coffee table in the corner of his room where we usually work. He just manages to strike my curiosity somehow.

I sit across him, on the floor, propping my head on my hand. "Hey, why are you mad?" I say in a little coo. "I meant what I said." He sighs just like he did before. I pout. "It's just a compliment. It's not like a girl said anything." The slightest of expressions cross through his face. "Come on, what's with you today?"

"I'm not mad," he says. "Focus on the work." His face isn't giving away if he meant it or not. How is he so thick-skinned? I wish I could know what's going in the pretty little head of his.

I concentrate anyway.

When we're done with more than half of it, I decide that he's in a good enough mood to ask about the gig. "So," I clear my throat, "are you coming tomorrow? Our time slot is eight to nine. The guys usually stay afterward."

He doesn't reply right away. I know what he's thinking. Uncle wouldn't like it.

Lan Zhan, well, he respects his Uncle. Lan Qiren on the other hand doesn't believe in mistakes or second chances. And Lan Zhan has a sense of gratuity towards him, which both of them believe, should be paid off by obeying him at all costs.

Sometimes I think about it, and realize that it's . . . wrong. I think Xichen feels the same, because I've seen how he looks when Qiren calls Lan Zhan for a meeting or something of that sort when he doesn't have classes, and Lan Zhan runs off the very moment.

That felt like something too sensitive to lay my hand on.

"You know," I say, "sometimes, it's okay to let it off for a minute. You're a college student. People don't say that this is the best time of your life for nothing. You've got to have some fun. Live a life for yourself while you can."

He looks like he wants to believe it. "I can't drink,' he finally says with a long sigh.

I blink. "You're a lightweight?"

"I haven't . . . before."

Honestly, not surprising. "Well," I say, "let's make sure that you don't get drunk then, shall we?"

*pun intended XD

Here are the two songs mentioned

What's My Age Again (You have been warned)

https://youtu.be/K7l5ZeVVoCA

Take Me to Church

https://youtu.be/t0imaSCnSuA