Chapter Text
THE EVENING OF WINTER FIFTY-FIRST, 2010.
The car ride home is silent. Because what do you say when the passenger seat is heavy with the weight of someone’s absence?
The heartrate monitor’s incessant beeping repeats in Xiao’s mind like a metronome. Every time it went still, even for just a moment, he swore his heart dropped along with it. If only he knew what every acronym, every random string of numbers on the screen meant — maybe then he’d know for himself what was going on. If she was in pain or not. If there would be some kind of miracle that might bring her back.
Dad was leaned over the hospital bed, gently holding onto Guizhong’s hands. He’d never seen his father cry. Not at the sappy dramas Tao and Ganyu would put on. Not at the tragic books he would read. And yet, there he was, the strongest man Xiao knew, tears streaming down his face, whispering into the ears of someone who wasn’t listening. Who couldn’t listen, though he was sure she would’ve wanted to.
He thinks that’s what breaks him the most. Tao hunched in the corner, leaning against Ganyu through her hiccups. He hates seeing her like this. He hates seeing them all like this. His dad should be reprimanding them for eating too fast with that overly stern look on his face, but with his gentle eyes. Tao should be joking around, laughing enough for the both of them. Ganyu should be smiling softly at her, amused at her antics but always too polite to join in.
And his mum…
He wanted to not cry. He wanted to be the strong one if Dad couldn’t be — if not for himself, then for his sisters, for Guizhong.
But seeing her pale face and dull eyes was a stab to his chest.
Xiao doesn’t remember if he and his dad had ever hugged either. That’s how he knew this was real. That it wasn’t all a terrible nightmare — his father pulled him into one of those awkward side-hugs as Xiao pressed his face into his shoulder, failing entirely at not crying.
He prayed to whatever there might be out there that his hair and the mask they had to wear would hide how red his eyes must be, but given he’d prayed for a lot more and it clearly didn’t work, he’s not exactly sure they want to be kind to him now.
His dad gave him a few pats on the back while Tao whispered something into her ear. He couldn’t find it in himself to reassure his father too, though he knew he must’ve needed it most.
It was his turn to say something to her. His last somethings. Xiao doesn’t remember what he said exactly, but he knows the first thing he said when he took her hands in his (dry from how much hand sanitiser he’d rubbed into his palms in search of something to do with his hands) was, “Why are you so cold?”
And now here he is in the car, dead silent apart from the distant sounds of zooming cars. The radio and AC are both off. He froze his fingers off in the hospital. Didn’t need any more of that in here too. They were supposed to drop by a drive-through three turns ago, but his dad most likely forgot. Or couldn’t handle the receipt being a little shorter than it usually is, one less order of a greasy burger and even greasier fries. There was nothing sentimental about fast food, and yet he still found himself thinking of Guizhong when they pass another neon sign. She would’ve turned from the front seat, asking what everyone wanted. Tao would order a kid’s meal purely for the toy that came with it, and Xiao would eat the apple slices since she didn’t like fruits at all. Then Guizhong would’ve chastised her, saying that vitamins were necessary for growth.
When he screws his eyes shut, hoping that slumber might consume him wholly forever, he only sees one colour. He didn’t know it was humanly possible to hate a colour as much as he does mint-green. The hospital walls were an inoffensive shade of it, vibrant only in the sunlight. He only had to see it for a few hours a week and it was already burned into his head. Having to see it every day must’ve been hell. He wonders how she handled it. How Guizhong felt waking up every day, knowing it would blend into the next. How she still smiled when they visited every week. He knew their visits must’ve meant a lot to her, but how much?
In a bleak world where everything is nothing but mint-green and metronomic beeps, he wonders how much the door swinging open meant to her.
He glances at his phone. In three hours he’ll have to wake up for school. Get up without his mother offering him breakfast before he leaves. He’ll have to sit in a classroom and pretend like nothing is wrong, even though all he wants to do is stay in bed and cry his eyes out like a kid. And now he has that stupid student council to worry about.
This fucking sucks.
THE EVENING OF SUMMER THIRTY-EIGHTH, 2012.
The car ride isn’t deafeningly silent, but just a little awkward. Tao and Ganyu had other plans, so it’s just him and Dad in the car. They’re not much different in the sense that they never have anything interesting to discuss bar the recent National Geographic episode and the weather. Both options were used up rather quickly, so they’ve been absently listening to the radio.
Xiao made sure to dress up a little, in a polo shirt and slacks, given the last time they had a meal together he was in sweatpants and a random T-shirt from the top of his clean shirt pile. This time, he was determined to make a somewhat decent impression, even if they saw each other at school.
“Thank you, Xiao,” Dad says, eyes trained on the road. They’ve pulled into a familiar shopping district. “I know it wasn’t easy to be okay with this.”
He nods, looking at the shops from the window. Has he been here with his friends? “I guess it wasn’t, but if it’s for you, it’ll be worth it.”
“You’ve become a great person. I’m proud to call you my son.”
It certainly isn’t the first time he’s heard those words, but it still warms his heart all the same. “Thanks to you. You’re a great dad. Sorry I don’t say that a lot.”
“The only type of dad a father can be is a great one. Otherwise I wouldn’t deserve to call myself your father.”
Soon enough, Dad parks carefully between two other cars in front of the restaurant. Xiao is not excited to get his license. What if he crashes into someone? When they get out of the car, the familiarity strikes him.
“This is the place you and Ms. Ningguang are meeting at?” Xiao asks, looking up at the building.
“Yes, why? Have you been here before? Is the food not up to standard?” Dad questions, scratching his head. “I even tried that… Internets thing Tao raves about. Apparently this place is a hidden gem of sorts.”
“No, it’s just…”
This is where Lumine works.
And if either of them see her, he’s not sure what will happen. His dad loves him, but he also loves rules and sticking to them.
He pulls out his phone and sends a quick text. “If you have a shift at the restaurant today, don’t come.” He would’ve added context, but his father already pushed open the glass door. Ms. Ningguang is tucked away in the back of the restaurant, hair pinned neatly atop her head and a small paper bag on the table. Upon noticing their presence, she smiles and waves.
“It’s nice to formally meet you, Xiao,” she says as they sit across from her. “Before anything, I have a little gift for you. It’s not a bribe, I assure you.” She places the bag in front of him. “Although I see now that it definitely looks like one.”
“Oh, um, thanks.” He has the urge to peek inside but holds off, instead putting it on the floor. “And promise me no school talk. I’m on summer break and neither of you are my teachers, okay?”
“Of course,” Dad says.
“Alright.” Ms. Ningguang chuckles. “I’m glad you agreed to meet with me.”
“And I’m sorry you had to wait for us. Tao was hogging the showe—“ he cuts himself off. Good impression, Xiao. “Uh, there was a situation.”
“You don’t have to worry about impressions, Xiao,” she replies through small laughter. “I know we said no discussing school, but I’m aware of Hu Tao’s character. She’s a lot of fun to be around. You don’t have to concern yourself with hiding things. If you don’t like me you can tell me that, too.”
“Okay, then…” He takes a deep breath. “Why are you so understanding? I mean, it has to suck a little that your boyfriend’s son isn’t really happy with you.”
He almost expects his dad to nudge him, but he does not. Just watches as Ms. Ningguang answers, like he knows she’ll have the right one.
“Well, my, err, boyfriend, was very firm in making sure I knew that his children were more important to him than anything,” she says. “I wouldn’t begin a relationship with your father unless I knew I was ready to form a bond with you and your siblings.”
He nods. He can see why her and Dad get along so well. They’re pretty similar. It makes a lot of sense. Maybe this’ll be better than he expected. He worried a lot this morning. If he still held a grudge against her. If she was really right for his father. If his opinion on that even mattered. But maybe this won’t be so bad.
Ms. Ningguang’s brows furrow at a sight behind him. He turns from his seat.
Blonde hair. Uniform. Lumine.
She stumbles back, mouth hanging as if to greet them like customers. To a place she works at.
“Lumine,” Ms. Ningguang says, cautious. “This is your workplace.”
Lumine glances at her, then Dad, then him.
“Are you… aware that this is against the rules?” Dad asks.
“What happened to no school talk?” Xiao mumbles.
“Lumine, I’m not upset,” Ms. Ningguang says. “But as school faculty, I’m obliged to ask you to quit.”
“But it’s summer break,” Xiao blurts. “She’s not a student during summer break. Right, Dad?”
Dad narrows his eyes at him. “You knew about this?”
Before he can say yes, Lumine cuts him off. “No, he didn’t, Mr. Zhongli.”
Both his dad and Ms. Ningguang look at him expectantly. Lumine too, eyes pleading for him to play along. He stammers out, “Yeah, I—I didn’t know. I just thought that…”
“I’m sorry, Lumine. Even if you’re friends with my son, you know I can’t pick favourites. You’re going to have to quit and we’ll have to inform your mother.”
“No!” Xiao’s not sure if he or Lumine said it first. She continues, “I’ll quit. Just don’t tell her. Please.” She bows, hands jittering on her knees before rushing off. Xiao gets up not a moment later.
“I’ll walk home. Great meeting you.”