this never-ending simple tenderness (слэш)

As Zhou Zishu raises his head, his line of sight is tangled with Wen Kexing's gaze. Around them, the music playing in the background and sounds of people picking vegetables and pushing their carts drop away. It's enough for the both of them to break into smiles. Wen Kexing lifts a hand to rest on Zhou Zishu's left hand where it's draped over the handle of the shopping cart, and gives it a light squeeze.
"A-Xu," he says.
"Mm," Zhou Zishu responds.
 
A fic about the inherent romance of ambling through a supermarket on a Tuesday afternoon with the person you love.