Chapter Text
maybe it is mara, yanqing thinks as he braces himself on his nightstand and cough cough coughs. (the marastruck don’t usually cough up flowers, but then again, teenagers don’t usually become marastruck to begin with.) aeons, if it is mara, and when jing yuan isn’t fully recovered yet—
he could run his sword through his chest now. the luofu would be safe, there would be no unnecessary casualties.
…
yanqing doesn’t want to die. (please please please please there is so much he still wants to do, and it would hurt so damn bad—) still, if it is necessary, he can. he must. glory to the xianzhou, or something.
slow down. go actually see the doctor first. everything else can wait.
~~~
the wait in the reception area is atrocious. he’s starting to remember why these were his least worn clothes; the fabric is so itchy, on top of the lights voices everything it’s all overwhelming though that might just be from literally his entire life potentially being over.
“lengfeng,” someone calls from the doorway. he stands up shakily, one hand deathgripping the armrest of his chair, and then lets go of it to quietly follow after them.
then, once inside:
“fortunately, your condition does not appear to be mara,” the doctor says. yanqing definitely does not slump in relief from his seat on the examination table, because that would be very unbefitting of a cloud knight. “however,” and of course there’s a however, “we believe it is still dangerous without intervention. you most likely have hanahaki, a disease caused by unrequited love.”
a long pause. he fixes his slouch instead of responding immediately, and looks away. the tick-tock-tick-tock of the clock seems to get louder. “unrequited?”
“yes. it can be platonic, romantic, any type. previous cases suggest that the condition is linked to the abundance, with speculation that—”
yanqing hears their voice in the distance, but not their words. unrequited love. his would be platonic for sure, he’s never had any romantic interests. that really only leaves one person.
it wouldn’t be proper to cry—he still has the general’s reputation to uphold, even if it hasn’t done much for either of them in the end—but yanqing feels a certain wetness anyway when he blinks. his chest aches. breathe, yanqing. “a-and treatments? you said that there were interventions…” he lets the statement trail off, belatedly realizing he’d interrupted their ongoing explanation.
the doctor doesn’t look particularly sympathetic, but they are not being cruel, at least. “i can write you an oral prescription. based on the sample you provided last time, you are early enough along in its progression that surgery will not be required, unless the disease has significantly progressed since then.”
yanqing winces but shakes his head no. it’s only gotten a little bit worse, he doesn’t need to take recovery time after surgery on top of everything else. (fu xuan is probably already cursing his name for leaving her with all of his work from the last two days. nothing new there.)
“alright.” the doctor scribbles a quick note on their clipboard. “though, since you are a minor, a legal parent or guardian will need to sign for your prescription at the pharmacy when you pick it up.”
lan strike him down. how is he supposed to tell jing yuan?
~~~
yanqing just barely manages to close the door to the house before he collapses to the floor. the door closes with a bang behind him.
fuck fuck fuck fuck jing yuan fucking hates him.
breathe.
breathe.
breathe.
breathe.
it’s not fair. it’s not fair it’s not fair it’s not fucking fair
the words come out between stuttered gasps like he wants to choke on them
he was doing well. he was doing well, wasn’t he? his promotion wasn’t that long ago what could have possibly changed
snot is running down his face and he feels so cold and his fingers are locking up and he knows he knows he knows he needs to stop hyperventilating but
scalegorge waterscape the stupid hanahaki whatever had shown up then fuck his heart is racing like crazy
so he was right it was there that he disappointed jing yuan enough to literally fucking die from it
he uses the back of his hand to wipe away snot aeons he’s too old for this be mature yanqing this is why the general hates you
tears in his eyes he can’t fucking see should not be crying on the floor at least get to a chair
stumbling when he gets up dizzy dizzy dizzy his whole body is tingling head hurts
walks falls into side of couch armrest digs into his side everything hurts how does he make it stop
still can’t move his fingers look like marastruck like claws like better off dead why why why why why
why was he never enough?
~~~
eventually, yanqing runs out of tears to cry. his eyes hurt and his hands are still slightly stuck but he at least manages to drag himself to bed before he collapses again.
…
when he blinks awake, he’s no less tired. the false sun hasn’t moved much. there was something he needed to do today. he knows he wrote it on his phone before getting home. go check.
his phone is in his clothes. he pulls it out, and there at the top of the screen:
[REMINDER] go to the pharmacy and get consent form :P
at least past yanqing had his shit together. present yanqing doesn’t want to even leave the house, but he must. jing yuan is still hospitalized. even though the general could leave if he had to, it will be better if yanqing doesn’t make him do such unnecessary things. he’s already hated enough as is.
so yanqing takes all the suspicious back alley routes there and forces himself to smile at the pharmacist when he arrives.
he and jing yuan are well-known enough on the luofu that it’s easy to explain why he needs to bring the consent form to a hospitalized jing yuan instead of the general coming in as per standard procedure.
no additional context is really needed; everyone knows what happened with phantylia. besides, people trust him to not forge a signature, and he would never—on his honor as a cloud knight. (on his honor as jing yuan’s retainer, his honor as a sword that was never loved.)
but then the pharmacist asks to confirm what the prescription is for, and yanqing can’t bring himself to speak. all he has to do is say two words. hanahaki disease. it’s just standard procedure for them to ask, they won’t keep pressing.
the silence drags. there’s a tap of long nails on a screen, and then, slightly irritatedly: “i have you written down for ‘hanahaki,’ is that correct?”
yanqing flinches. he really is a disappointment to everyone, isn’t he. a nod. surely he can at least do a nod.
they print the form. he takes it and leaves.
~~~
jing yuan’s hospital room door has never looked this intimidating. yanqing has been there almost every day since it became jing yuan’s, he’s been standing outside of it today for ages, and yet—
“yanqing?” aeons, he swears the general has a sixth sense sometimes. at least that takes the decision away from him. he opens the door.
“oh, it is you, yanqing,” jing yuan says, and he is even sitting up today. “you have not visited in a few days. what has kept you so busy?”
“i-have-hanahaki-and-i-need-you-to-sign-this.” he can’t look at jing yuan as he speaks, the diagnosis stumbling out of his mouth. how could he, when the general still carries injuries from phantylia? when the physical proof of those injuries is right there in front of him?
“hana— the unrequited love disease? yanqing, what happened?”
the paper trembles in his grip. “i know i’ve failed you, and the luofu, but i’m a lieutenant at least. i’m useful enough to keep alive, aren’t i? you can hate me, i’ll do whatever you want, i’ll follow all your orders, so please—”
jing yuan is silent. distantly, yanqing realizes he himself has started crying again. fuck.
when jing yuan does speak, he sounds almost horrified. “your hanahaki… it can’t be for me, can it?”
all yanqing can do is nod, still not looking up. a monitor somewhere beeps steadily.
“oh, yanqing.” he’s drawn into a hug before he realizes it, tears soaking into the thin hospital gown. the paper flutters to the ground. “you are my pride and joy. how could i possibly hate you?”
“s-scalegorge waterscape,” he whispered. “the first flower petal was there, and then i couldn’t help you during the fight against phantylia, my whole job as your retainer is to protect you and i couldn’t do that.”
jing yuan runs his hand through yanqing’s hair as he responds. it feels nice. gentle. “it is not your job to protect me.”
“but i’m your retainer, a-and when the people talk, you never disagree when they call me your weapon.”
the hand in his hair pauses. “baobei,” he says slowly. “how long have you been feeling like this?”
yanqing doesn’t respond. jing yuan does the little hmm he does when he is thinking deeply. today, it sounds wrong, somehow. the hand in his hair resumes after a moment.
“you are my retainer because you are capable, very much so, but that does not change the fact that you are a child. and even if you weren’t, you will always be my child.” the words sound almost desperate. “i have considered you as such for years and years, even if politics got in the way of recognizing that fact.”
yanqing pulls slightly out of the hug to look at the general’s face. he doesn’t quite know what he finds, but there’s something there that gives him hope. he wants to believe him. lan, he wants it so bad.
jing yuan merely smiles shakily and pulls him back in. like this, yanqing can feel his baba(???)’s heartbeat, strong and healthy and so, so alive. there’s hair in his face but the arms around him are warm, like nothing bad will ever happen to either of them again. for the first time in months, his breaths come easy.
“i am proud of you, yanqing. and i’ll love you no matter what you do or don’t accomplish.”
(silently, jing yuan vows to say it as many times as he needs to, until the day yanqing never questions it again. there is so much they need to work out, but he can start there.)
yanqing’s never had a baba before, but maybe that’s not quite true. right now, he can believe that he’s had one all along, looking at him with warmth he’d never known how to see.