a desert and an ocean, and people who loved it [Meng Yao/Lan XiChen/Nie MingJue]

a desert and an ocean

Meng Yao really liked concert tours and his fans. Sometimes he thought about all canceled artists, how some of them did nothing wrong, but their own people turned their backs and left without a warning. And he was grateful for not having to go through it. He wasn’t a controversial person, he was actually considered “perfect” when it came to really controversial people. He was a master at hiding and adapting. He became perfect at pretending to be everyone but himself. He tried to change it, but the thing about being invisible is that when you start disappearing no one wants real you back.

But being a musician and successful one was a weird experience. Meng Yao tried to gain popularity in every way possible, but he also tried to hide in people, in their talks and cafeterias, he tried to blend into surroundings - be wind and rain at the same time, be everything but human being. Even though he wanted to be everything that people cherished, invisible but still, he often thought about himself as a desert or an ocean. A place that was still quite undiscovered and misunderstood, a place where people didn’t want to go and avoided, a place where people were dying because they got lost or didn’t have other places to go, a place beautiful but scary at the same time, interesting and unappealing. Desert and ocean were lonely places, even though they were surrounded by people. And it sounded like him, like his soul.

He opened the door to his hotel room and threw his jacket on the chair nearby. Long sigh escaped his lips, his body started to already feel the exhaustion that today's performance gave him. But he knew that he wouldn’t fall asleep at this moment. His body was weird and he didn’t like it at all, but after years he started to tolerate this.

Meng Yao put his hand into backpack, searching for a familiar box. Cigarettes. He knew that he shouldn’t smoke especially while being a singer, but it was a habit so hard to quit. Maybe in the future he’ll quit, maybe he’ll stop being so fucking emotional after every performance.

He opened the balcony door, went outside and took a deep breath before lighting a cigarette. View from this side of the building was really pretty. The city made some kind of pattern with its lights.

Leaning against the railing, he took a deep breath and felt similar, calming smoke enter his lungs. In silent moments like this his thoughts never seemed to stop. He wasn’t surrounded by crowds anymore, he couldn’t blend or pretend, because he was alone with himself and no one else could see or judge him. Self judgment was a cruel thing.

In the stillness of the night, he found himself questioning the path he had chosen, the sacrifices made in pursuit of fame and success. Was it all worth it, he wondered, this endless cycle of performances and applause that left him feeling even more hollow and alone than before? Maybe he didn’t have a place in his heart that could be filled?

Suddenly he heard footsteps on the balcony on his right, so he immediately turned in that direction. He was met with the sight of two men, leaning against the railing like he was. One of them was tall and elegant, with a serene expression and kind eyes that seemed to hold a depth of wisdom beyond his years even though he seemed to be quite young. The other was a stark contrast, his presence commanding and his features etched with determination, yet softened by a hint of warmth in his gaze.

"Beautiful night, isn't it?" the first man spoke, his voice carrying across the narrow divide between them.

Meng Yao blinked, suddenly all his words were gone. It was dark, but light from their hotel room illuminated them at some point. Meng Yao realized that he knew them - they were performing in the same place as him. Lan XiChen and Nie MingJue. Band that delighted the world. They were also a couple, so Meng Yao immediately scolded himself for thinking “damn, they are hot”.

"Yes, it is," he replied, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he turned to face the Lan Xichen.

As their eyes met, Meng Yao felt a curious sense of familiarity wash over him, as though he had known this man for far longer than the brief moment they had shared on the balcony. They said to themselves one short sentence.