Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Here is the thing—it’s all fake.

All of it.

The CP, the public displays of affection, the dates, the engagement during the concert. None of it is real. They are not even a real couple. It’s just that—no one knows or can ever know. The only exception being the head of their respective studios and their close family and friends. And if he really thinks about it, which only happens once in a blue moon when he is drunk, Gong Jun isn’t sure how they ended up here, only that they are here. A few jokes, one kiss at the start of filming, the rumours started, the show aired and then they shot to fame overnight. Somehow, there was no going back, and Gong Jun found himself agreeing to being in a real CP—at least in the face of the public.

Actually, there is one thing that is real—his feelings and the reason he had agreed to this whole thing in the first place. He loves Zhang Zhe Han. With every fibre of his being and every breath that he takes—he loves him. And he has since the very start of production when Zhang Zhe Han had casually walked into his life and straight into his heart, and then made a home there. He had hoped that Zhang Zhe Han would eventually, maybe, fall for him as well.

But with the constant jokes and Zhang Zhe Han’s flirting with everything that moves, Gong Jun just never felt that any of their chemistry was real. At least not for Zhang Zhe Han. During the production it had been all Zhou Zi Shu. And Zhou Zi Shu had loved Wen Ke Xing, not Gong Jun.

And somehow, here they are two and a half years later.

It’s just that sometimes Gong Jun messes up and forgets himself. In his defence it really isn’t his fault. Most of the time when Zhang Zhe Han turns towards him and smiles, he can hold himself back and not fall under the all‑consuming spell that is his fiancé. He isn’t really sure how he does it, but he somehow manages to stop himself from pulling Zhang Zhe Han close, hugging him tight against his chest and just breathing in that essence radiating from the nape of that soft and very cuddleable neck. That very spot where Zhang Zhe Han’s hair falls in the most adorable, soft curls.

But when Zhang Zhe Han turns his full attention to Gong Jun—just like he is doing right now with that smile that could melt the icecaps and turn the Antarctic winter into a regular summer’s day in the outback of Australia—his brain short circuits and he forgets how to breathe, scrambling to get back online in time for people not to notice.

However, people do notice. And truth be told, as long as they have an audience, it doesn’t really matter if they do catch his wandering hands or smiling like an idiot, because at least then he has something to blame his actions on. And they currently have an audience. Which, he reminds himself, is why Zhang Zhe Han has his sunshine smile radiating towards him—not because he wants to, but because it is expected of him in this situation.

It is, however, too late this time and his traitorous hand has moved on its own and is already cradling Zhang Zhe Han’s face, and he knows that he has a wistful longing in his eyes and a dopey smile curling his lips. He knows this partly because it is what always happens when his body just reacts to Zhang Zhe Han, and partly because he can hear the Art Director cooing alongside their studio representatives behind the video screens. He can also hear the female assistants giggling somewhere behind the too bright spotlights that are currently aimed at him and Zhang Zhe Han.  

Used to the attention by now, he ignores the thirty odd people that are focused solely on the two of them where they are standing in front of the cyclorama wall trying to sell a new matte foundation and a red matte lipstick from Tom Ford—one of their many CP endorsement brands that they have picked up over the past two years. Instead, he carefully trails his thumb over Zhang Zhe Han’s cheekbone, his fingertip ghosting over the perfect and luminescent skin that would still be flawless even without the added layer of makeup. It’s warm, smooth and feels a bit like home, like his hand belongs there.

It’s been weeks since he has seen or touched Zhang Zhe Han and he tries to ignore the ache that is building up inside his chest. His thumb pays no attention to his brain nor his heart, and moves on its own over Zhang Zhe Han’s upper lip, gently tracing the outline of the arch, taking care not to actually damage the makeup.

“Don’t mess up my styling. I need to look good for the cameras.” Zhang Zhe Han’s voice brings him out of his trance, and he clears his dry throat. Oh, he is messing up, but it isn’t the makeup that is on the messed-up end. Only his feelings. As always.

He unsticks his tongue from the palate, raises his right eyebrow and smirks, “Coming from the man who poured that oat milk over my head last month, you’d be lucky if all I do is smudge some of your makeup. Besides, smearing your lipstick might make it sell even better.” And to prove his point, he trails the delicate, plush lips one more time, a little bit firmer, feeling the soft flesh give way under his finger. The lipstick sits firm on Zhang Zhe Han’s lips, just as advertised, or rather—will be advertised.

It’s true though. Since Zhang Zhe Han is almost always the one who is portrayed as the softer one out of the two of them—partly because of their roles in Shan He Ling, partly because Gong Jun is slightly taller and has more sharp angles, but mostly because he just looks ethereal with his toned curves and shoulder length hair—it is Zhang Zhe Han who is tasked with moving and staging his hands all over Gong Jun’s body during these CP commercials. And to say that he does it with a bit of his signature gremlin—would be an understatement. His partner in crime is always courting the fine line between disaster and absolute genius, either messing up his clothes or his face—sometimes both. And if he loves every second of it, Gong Jun keeps it to himself.

Of course, those gremlin shoots always end up being the most popular ones, with their LLD fans going absolutely crazy. And because of this, even though Zhang Zhe Han sometimes gets scolded by his studio, it is mostly just for fun, part of the show and their vibe, and never really serious scolding. The clothes, makeup, detergent, or whatever it is that they are endorsing, always sells out immediately. And if all the staged intimacy, accidental skinship and encouraged feelings leaves him hurt and unable to fall asleep when he gets back to his own silent apartment, he locks it away in that part of his heart that he doesn’t acknowledge anymore. He also ignores everything that tells him to just walk the few blocks over to Zhang Zhe Han’s apartment—no matter which city they are in. Because as of eighteen months ago, they both own apartments in both Beijing and Shanghai. It has been decided though, that they are not to share one yet. No, they only share accommodation if they are on the road or shooting something specific out of town. And even then, they are booked into enormous suites with multiple bedrooms. And they always sleep separately.

“Okay, wardrobe change!” the assistant director calls and the stylists swarm around them. He slowly and reluctantly pulls his hand back, still smirking down at Zhang Zhe Han, who is looking up at him with big, dark unreadable eyes—which is a bit unusual for him in these settings. Zhang Zhe Han keeps watching him as they are dragged in opposite directions towards where their outfits are hanging on the clothing racks. Whilst Gong Jun is dressed by Louis Vuitton, being their Global Ambassador for the second year in a row, Zhang Zhe Han has chosen to stay with Lanvin even though Louis Vuitton had offered them a very lucrative CP endorsement. Zhang Zhe Han had moved from Regional Ambassador to Global Ambassador last year, which is mostly the reason he decided to stay on. They are currently being courted by both Gucci and Moschino, but that is a discussion that is still a few months away.

As two styling assistants start fussing over his hair, he tries not to think about what it would feel like to run his fingers through the soft curls of Zhang Zhe Han’s loose bun. The rest of the day will be more of the same and he feels unsettled. For some reason, coming back from having a few weeks of leave over Lunar New Year is difficult. He needs to get a grip, because they will be shooting the launch for this new makeup line for the rest of the day and then their studios have joint forces and booked them in on one of their fortnightly official dates—those dates that are always held right in front of the public. Well, they are fortnightly when neither of them is shooting a drama or movie in a different part of the country. These official dates are a chance for their fans to see them out and about, enjoying each other’s company, doing things that they love, and help with boosting the CP brand that their studios have carefully been cultivating since Shan He Ling aired almost two years ago.

This time, since it’s their first date of the year, they are going to one of their favourite hotpot restaurants. He had really been looking forward to it, but now he isn’t so sure. He’s got a strange feeling building at the pit of his stomach and he would rather go home to his lonely apartment than go out on a date.

He closes his eyes and lets the stylists do their thing, whilst he tries to shake off the anxious feeling that, for some reason, has taken root at the pit of his stomach. Something is off and he needs to figure out what and then either lock it away or get over it.

Zhang Zhe Han reaches for his hand even before they have left the restaurant. Zhang Zhe Han is a bit drunk and holds on to him for support. This is something that he has done ever since their first dinner during the Shan He Ling production—because Zhang Zhe Han is a lightweight. He also tends to get a bit clingy, which is also something that Gong Jun has known ever since that first dinner because Zhang Zhe Han had kissed him and then passed out. And no, Zhang Zhe Han had not remembered that kiss and Gong Jun had never reminded him or brought it up—ever.

Generally, he doesn’t mind Zhang Zhe Han being physical or close, but today has been a really long day with hours of touching, smiling and gazing into those hot, dark eyes. He has literally held his heart’s desire in his hands, only to know that it’s not his to have, to take, or to keep. It’s like his heart is trying to soar, but the wings have broken, and is now just falling out of the sky plummeting towards certain death. 

Once it reaches the ground it will hurt. He knows that much.

As they exit the building, he isn’t surprised about the crowd that has gathered whilst they had their dinner. He suspects that since they haven’t had any official dates yet this year, in between the holidays and Zhang Zhe Han having wrapped up a movie earlier this month, it is likely that their own studio leaked their scheduled date to make sure they would get spotted by fans and daipai [i].

They jump into their joint car—they are both sponsored by the Volvo XC60 hybrid these days and are required to share a ride as often as they can—and roll down the windows, waving and listening to the fans calling for ‘mom’ and ‘dad’.

When that had started back when Shan He Ling aired, he thought that he would never get used to being called dad without actually being one—and that biologically, there was no way that he was even old enough to be their dad—but he had embraced this new role their fans had given him with surprising ease, and never looked back.

And just like clockwork, as he sneaks a peak at the man sitting next to him, still holding his hand, the mental image of the two of them as actual parents pops into his head—those same images that has been popping into his head in the past year whenever he hears their fans calling for mom and dad, which is all the time. He sees Zhang Zhe Han’s face as he coos over two little toddlers; playing with tiny hands and feet; blowing raspberries on naked bellies with the innocent laughter of children bouncing around them like pure happiness; walking next to him whilst pushing a stroller in front of them, a child strapped in one of those baby wraps to Zhang Zhe Han’s chest.

His heart cracks a bit and he feels like he can’t breathe, so he looks away and stuffs the images back into that tiny little lead box inside his heart from where it had escaped, bolt locks it and ignores it like it had never happened. Instead, he widens his smile and waves, the cold January wind tussling his hair in the cross-breeze from the open windows. The fact that they already have hundreds of mobiles and cameras filming their first day back in Shanghai tells him that they are still one of the strongest, if not the strongest, gay CP in C Ent. Maybe even top five in total.

This, however, is something that has taken him a long time to get used to, and something that he still isn’t fully used to—the fact that he can openly date a man. All those years during university of having to hide who he was, not only to strangers but to his family and to his friends, left him with an almost constant wariness that still hasn’t fully disappeared. Something that never seemed to bother Zhang Zhe Han, who is always giving away affection, freely and openly, no matter who he is focused on.

With the homophobic winds reduced to barely a light breeze, the two of them had stepped into the limelight at just the right time, just months before gay marriages had been legally recognized throughout China. It had been a shaky first few months, but with the younger generation finally loving louder than the older generation hated, the LBGTQ+ wave had swept through the nation and lit a fire that was still burning strong. And somehow, the two of them had ended up being torchbearers for the first year.

Brands had rolled out the red carpet for them, with offers that had been difficult to turn down. Suddenly, everyone wanted to capitalise on this new market—or at least openly capitalise instead of hiding the gay CP’s within kadians or subtle, or sometimes not so subtle, double meanings—to reach the desired CP market.

The Volvo finally turns the corner, and he rolls up the window and leans back in the seat. He twirls the ring around his left ring finger, feeling the outline of each edge of the hexagon shape as he spins it around and around with his thumb. It’s a nervous habit he has picked up ever since they had gotten engaged during the two-day Shan He Ling concert.

The ring is just a symbol of their official relationship and nothing more. It is a constant reminder that those butterflies had been followed by the explanation of how it would make sense considering Zhang Zhe Han was set to be the first and sole brand ambassador for Tasaki. It would boost sales. And the fans had gone crazy—still went crazy—every time they spotted the rings.

The ring means nothing. And yet it means everything to him. The conflicting emotions make his heart thud erratically in his chest and he can feel the ground closing in on his plummeting heart.

It’s routine that they drop Zhang Zhe Han off first. It’s how it’s always been. He holds Zhang Zhe Han’s hand in the elevator, both because of routine from the date and because Zhang Zhe Han needs the support, and then walks him to his apartment door, just like he always does.

And even if these moments are few and far in-between, something in him senses it coming. He doesn’t do anything to stop Zhang Zhe Han. His soul takes these rare, fleeting moments of intimacy that shatters his heart and latches on to them with all of its might—dragging every shard back to piece together and nurse inside his bruised rib cage. And still, when their lips meet for what is the second time since they met, at least outside of the cameras, the taste of Zhang Zhe Han floods his system and sets about pumping liquid fire through his veins. In the wake of it, all he can do is open his lips for more.

His right hand snakes its way up to the nape of Zhang Zhe Han’s neck—curling inside the lengths of that silky soft hair that drives him crazy—and tilts his head just so knowing that the angle will give him more access and slot their lips together perfectly. Like they were made to fit. Like two pieces of a whole. Like they can only stay alive if they share each breath.

His left hand slides down Zhang Zhe Han’s back and rests on the shelf between the lower back and that curvy ass that is somehow always jiggling, but in a firm way. He pulls Zhang Zhe Han’s body closer, moulding them together so that there is absolutely no space left between them. As if air itself has been used up by the fire currently blazing everywhere that they touch.

He combs his fingers through those silky curls and tugs on the scrunchie to get more access. His ring catches in the newly freed and messy hair and the accidental tug pulls Zhang Zhe Han’s head back slightly. As their lips part, he can feel a short puff of breath against his wet lips. The laugh pulls him back into reality, on how Zhang Zhe Han is drunk and unusually clingy. It’s not real. This can’t happen. None of this can happen.

And so he pulls back. Zhang Zhe Han looks like he wants to say something, but instead licks his lips and looks down.

“Good night, Hanhan. Try and get some good sleep and I’ll see you tomorrow for the meeting at the studio,” he says with a thick voice as he licks his lips, before turning towards the elevator.

“Junjun…” Zhang Zhe Han takes a stuttering breath before he continues, “Night, Junjun. I’ll see you tomorrow. Thanks for walking me to my door!” The electronic lock beeps open and then the door closes with a soft click, and he is standing by himself in the sterile hallway waiting for the elevator wondering if he or his heart will hit the basement level first.

The touch and the taste of the kiss lingers on his lips all the way home, tingling every time his tongue peaks out to wet them. And no matter how long he brushes his teeth, he can’t seem to get Zhang Zhe Han’s taste off his tongue. Not even after brushing his teeth twice and using mouthwash both in between and after. Apparently, Colgate only works for spicy hotpot and seafood and not for gorgeous and unattainable men. Well, specifically one straight man. He has never had any problems getting anyone else’s taste gargled away with mouthwash or scent scrubbed away with bodywash. Only ever Zhang Zhe Han stays with him like they have somehow merged.

The sinking feeling coils like snakes in his stomach. He can’t do this anymore.

He picks up his phone, opens WeChat and clicks on Zhang Zhe Han’s message history, which is at the top of his message log with three unread messages.

He ignores the pang in his heart and clicks on video call. Zhang Zhe Han picks up on the third ring, his smile still a bit on the drunk side and his eyes soft and hooded at the same time. No, he definitely can’t do this anymore.

Before Zhang Zhe Han gets a chance to say hello, or crack a joke about this being a booty call, or apologise again for being drunk, Gong Jun looks straight into the camera instead of watching the screen. He refuses to look into those eyes because he won’t be able to do this if he does, and says, his voice determined, “I think that we should break up.”

Even though the screen is small and it’s dark, he can still see the shock on Zhang Zhe Han’s face before it is masked over by something that he can’t decipher. The soft smile that always makes Zhang Zhe Han’s expression glow, fades like those warm sun rays ebbing out at the end of a spectacular sunset, leaving nothing but the impending darkness. Zhang Zhe Han’s expression is blank. Zhang Zhe Han is never blank. He always has an expression on his face. Always. He is one of the most expressive people that Gong Jun knows. Even when he is acting like he is indifferent, his body is radiating with it.

He can both see and hear Zhang Zhe Han swallow before he responds, “Why now?”

“It has to end at some point anyway, right? We both know this. This isn’t real. I can’t keep doing this anymore.”

“What happened? What changed? Did I do— I’m sorry I kissed you...”

“No, that’s not…” He takes a deep breath and needs to suppress a cough with how dry his mouth is, even with the excessive teeth brushing and gargling with that stupid mouthwash. “I just think it’s time. We are coming up on two years, a lot of our endorsements are running out anyway in April and May. It would be a good time before we lock ourselves in for another year.”

Zhang Zhe Han is looking at him without blinking, his lips slightly pressed together in a thin line, “Is this what you really want?”

“I just…” He can’t breathe. He can’t be honest and say—I just can’t be around you and not love you; or I just can’t hold you without being allowed to keep you; or I just can’t kiss you without being able to taste all of you. “I just don’t want to keep lying to everyone anymore. We are in a place where our careers are going well, even without the CP endorsements. You have launched your singing career, you are doing movies and looking at going into directing. You’re about to record your second album. Can you really see anything else coming from this? What else do you want out of this next year?”

“I…” Zhang Zhe Han goes silent and stares at the far distance, and for a moment, Gong Jun wonders if the screen is frozen, but then he can hear Zhang Zhe Han’s soft voice over the speaker, “You might be right that we are at a place where we can let the CP go. You have your first movie coming up with part of the production abroad as well. I don’t want to hold you back.” Zhang Zhe Han goes silent again but looks back at the screen, worrying his lips. “I never minded being in a CP with you Junjun. I have enjoyed our collaborations and our time together, maybe more than you will ever know. But if this is how you feel, I agree that this is a good time.”

“So… we break it?”

“Yes. Let’s break up. We can talk about details tomorrow since we are going to the studio anyway. I need to sleep now, Junjun.” And Zhang Zhe Han hangs up.

And just like that, his heart hits the ground and smashes into pieces. The silence of his tears feels equally heart-breaking.

Author’s social media Mini-Theatre:

  Meanwhile on WeChat.

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