“Have dinner with me,” Lan Zhan says. One of them has to ask it. They’ve been dancing around it, and Lan Zhan has the sense that if he doesn’t ask now, he won’t have the chance. Wei Ying feels like a ghost – some sort of apparition dreamt up by him and his phone. Lan Zhan tries to imagine sitting across the table from a set of pale-pale wrists and idol eyes. Can’t.
--- Taco nights, messy academia peeps who love drama, and thousand-mile distances. Everything happens so much.