Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

He was sinking. 

Cold was the first thing that came to mind—a freezing, numbing sensation. 

His eyes shifted from side to side, but the movements did nothing to alter his vision. It was dark, a hint of blue, maybe, but ultimately, nothing. Desperate, he parted his lips, urging something—anything—to roll off his tongue. A cry for help, a sob of agony, whatever it took to make his presence known. 

Was he drowning? It felt like it, but his lungs neither burned nor did they scream. His body sank deeper and deeper into the abyss, pressure nearly crushing him to pieces. But even in these circumstances, he was not drowning; he was not dying. 

There was a strange sense of comfort that accompanied plunging to the bottom of this void. His mind bore no thoughts other than curiosity for what surrounded him. If he could see, would he want to close his eyes? Would he want an escape? Another chance?

When he was just barely a child, he was placed in the system. He had no memories of his biological parents; he wondered if he ever got the chance to make any. He imagined what they were like—were they quiet by nature like him, or were they loud and adventurous like the person he wanted to be? Lu Dashan hardly gave him room to think, and even less to be a kid. He was forced to grow up while he learned what growing up meant, exposed to things no child should ever see. He had no reason to believe his lifestyle was abnormal. 

He was a young boy who only knew the cruelty of the system and the walls of Lu Dashan’s home. His timid nature kept him from making many friends, so how could he recognize how difficult his situation was?

Lu Guang was sinking, and he did not know it. 

What he knew was that it was frigid—the hits were sharp, and the environment was desolate. His life was filled with black and blues, and his stomach ran on nothing. Fearful, he approached strangers without a word, wore T-shirts that showed his imperfections. Whatever it took to get the opinion of others. 

No one showed any concern.

To him, that meant this was okay. And for a while, he really did think that.

But somehow, somewhere deep down, he knew that the violence he experienced in his—in Lu Dashan’s home—was not typical for the average person. He was neither stupid nor was he naive, but he did not understand the extent of the abuse. But he knew it was wrong. But what was a helpless child meant to do with this information? Flaunt it to the people he rushed past on the streets as he chased down the person Lu Dashan had told him to stalk? No, he could not reach out to anyone.

All he could do was welcome his situation. 

He had to accept that food was not a necessity, not a right he naturally had. As Lu Dashan had taught him, eating was a privilege, and Lu Guang was not fortunate enough to have it. 

Meals were rewards. Punishments were motivators. 

Lu Guang did not know he had reached the bottom of this cold pit until pain exploded along his back, head clashing against the surface. He lay there, flat against the ground, aching all over, unable to see. He had been falling down this freezing abyss for many years, and finally, he had reached his limit. 

* * *

Lu Guang would describe himself as someone organized, someone always prepared for the worst. His childhood had taught him that life was unfair, and that he shouldn’t expect much if he didn’t want the disappointment to hit him as hard. He was ready for anything—Cheng Xiaoshi’s spontaneous adventures, unorganized and entitled customers, horrific cases, danger. There weren’t many things Lu Guang didn’t account for. 

That said, when he woke up to the sight of an unfamiliar ceiling, panic emerged. 

Where was Cheng Xiaoshi? Where was Qiao Ling? What happened?

Though his head protested his sudden movements, he kept looking around. The room was mostly bare; the bed to his left was unoccupied, but his side had an IV drip, monitors, and other things his blurry eyes could not make out. He glanced down at his hand—a catheter. 

What the hell happened?

He couldn’t recall the events leading to him waking up in the hospital. No matter how hard he tried to search his brain for answers, he came out empty-handed. 

Judging by the sky, it was probably midday, but that didn’t help much in figuring out what had happened. Lu Guang was perceptive; he didn’t need much to piece things together. His mind, however, felt like mush. He couldn’t think clearly, nor were his senses functioning properly. His body was weak—he could tell that much. 

It was only when his stomach let out the quietest rumble that he realized why he was there.

Shit.

Suddenly, the anxiety coursing through his veins was replaced with guilt and, ironically, a sense of hunger. He had been stupid and refused to eat. He remembered now. 

The days prior to this moment, he rejected every meal, every form of help. Memories of Cheng Xiaoshi’s worried face and desperate cries flashed in his mind, weighing him down even more. He couldn’t think of anything but his mistakes and their consequences. The argument. The crying. The desire he had to go downstairs to apologize for how he had acted. The way his body ultimately gave up on him. It was all there.

He stared at his hands. They pulled at his hair as a result.

The door clicked open as he struggled to tame his thoughts. “Lu Guang? You’re up-”

He didn’t want to look. He couldn’t. That voice—he wasn’t prepared to hear it so soon.

“I’ll go get a nurse.” A softer, gentler voice said, then left the room.

Don’t look. Don’t speak. What you’ve done is shameful—you should be ashamed. And he was; he was nothing but ashamed. For someone so desperate to fix his mistakes, you sure do keep making them.

He’s sorry. He’s sorry for proving himself right, for always fucking things over and failing.

Was there anything he could do properly? He couldn’t be affectionate like his partner, couldn’t be gentle like his best friend, couldn’t please Lu Dashan, couldn’t live a normal life, couldn’t save his loved ones, couldn’t take care of himself, couldn’t—

“Lu Guang-” Cheng Xiaoshi’s voice broke. Lu Guang made the terrible choice to glance up. “Stop- stop that-” he begged, and it was at that moment that Lu Guang registered the hands wrapped around his wrists, carefully urging him to let go of his hair. 

Reluctantly, he complied, allowing Cheng Xiaoshi to lower his trembling hands onto his lap. He still hadn’t said anything. He wasn’t sure what he could say. An apology would come off as insincere, because how sorry was he for his actions? He wasn’t upset that he fainted; he was upset that he fainted and had been caught. But anything else would come off as defensive, like he was ungrateful for everything he had been given. There was nothing he could say that pleased everyone, so he remained silent. 

Cheng Xiaoshi did not push him to speak. 

“Mr. Lu, I see you’re awake.” A nurse, about the same height as Qiao Ling, who was trailing behind her, entered the room. As she approached, Cheng Xiaoshi backed away, and Lu Guang couldn’t help but feel a little colder. “Your blood sugar levels seem to be improving, but you’re still lacking a lot of nutrients.” He nodded along as she checked various statuses and machines, jotting things down as she went.

“What… what time is it?” he asked, grimacing as she took his blood pressure. He never liked the feeling of those.

She took the cuff off and checked her watch. “It’s 12:05 P.M.,” and she continued what she was doing.

Oh, okay. So it was the afternoon. That made sense. It had only been two hours since he had first woken up. 

“You were sleeping for a bit because you were not only severely malnourished, but you were also very sleep-deprived. So you may feel a little weak.” The nurse commented as she walked around his bed. Satisfied, she clicked her pen. “I’ll go get the doctor. It’ll just be a moment.”

As she exited the room, Lu Guang’s heart rate increased. Now he was faced with the two people he had failed.

For a minute or two, no one spoke. No one even moved. Lu Guang was afraid of doing anything in their presence, scared of screwing things up even more. Surely, they were furious with him—Cheng Xiaoshi especially. 

He fidgeted with his blanket, a lame excuse of a blanket that was. It held no comfort, no warmth, but it distracted him from the lingering eyes. 

Finally, someone sighed. Lu Guang froze as Qiao Ling approached his bed. “You’re an idiot, you know that?” Her tone was stern, but everyone could hear the slight quiver in her voice. “Seriously, Lu Guang… nine days?” She frowned, pulling a seat from behind her and placing it next to the foot of his bed. 

Lu Guang wanted to apologize, but he couldn’t bring himself to look her in the eye. 

All he could manage to do was continue playing with the fabric between his fingers. The steady beep of the machines filled their silence, distant chatter and movements from outside echoing into his room. 

A sigh. “But how are you feeling?” Qiao Ling whispered with a tiny smile, lips twitching just barely enough to be noticeable. She looked too composed for someone who probably wanted to scold him for his stupidity. 

Lu Guang did not deserve her kindness. He did not deserve her patience and understanding. 

He mustered up a mumbled: “Okay.”

She didn’t add anything else, nor did Lu Guang expand on his answer. He shifted awkwardly in his spot. 

Qiao Ling left it at that, sensing he didn’t feel like talking much. 

On the other hand, Cheng Xiaoshi hadn’t said a word yet, not since he stepped back to let the nurse do her job. Lu Guang was too much of a coward to look up at him—he was standing next to his bed, unmoving, acting so not Cheng Xiaoshi. The three of them stayed quiet, nobody knowing what to say. 

For Cheng Xiaoshi to be the quietest person in the room was terrifying; it told Lu Guang just how badly he’d fucked up. 

The stillness of the room broke when the door swung open. “Good afternoon, Mr. Lu.” The doctor stepped in, greeting Cheng Xiaoshi and Qiao Ling, who did their best to smile politely.

Qiao Ling gently raised her hand and mouthed a quick ‘bye’ while Cheng Xiaoshi left without ever breaking his silence. Lu Guang’s heart tugged from the utter guilt he felt. Someone as loud and open as Cheng Xiaoshi should not have been this mute. 

The door gently shut, and he and his doctor went over his condition.

The doctor explained that he had fainted due to dangerously low blood sugar levels, sleep deprivation, and chronic stress. He was told he would have to stay until tomorrow morning so they could monitor his blood sugar, electrolytes, heart rate, and whatever else Lu Guang couldn’t be bothered to remember—he just wanted out. But still, he nodded at everything the doctor said, including having to speak with a psychiatrist to evaluate his mental state, which he was not looking forward to at all. 

He was fine. He just took it a little bit too far this time. But he knew that if he were to voice this opinion of his, the doctor would just stare at him, unconvinced, so he kept it to himself.

The nurse from before switched places with his doctor and asked if he had any dietary preferences. Since it was the afternoon, lunch was being handed out around the unit, and they obviously wanted to make sure that Lu Guang ate. 

Lu Guang said he didn’t mind anything. She nodded and left the room.

His peace and quiet was interrupted when the door creaked open once more; this time, it was hesitant. He assumed it was the nurse coming back for more questions or clarification, but he caught a glimpse of familiar black hair and instantly looked down at his hands.

The steps paused for a moment before inching closer to his bed. He didn’t sit just yet (Qiao Ling’s chair was still there); he just stood. 

As terrible as it sounded, Lu Guang kind of wished he had died after passing out. He wouldn’t have to deal with this level of humiliation if he did. It would also mean he was free from the torturous cycle he had been trying to escape for however many years—timelines—it had been. 

He was exhausted—a kind of exhaustion that didn’t go away with sleep. He didn’t require rest; he required freedom, change, a different life, maybe. He was growing tired of the one he had right now. He loved Cheng Xiaoshi, loved Qiao Ling, loved the life he had built and relived time and time again, but he didn’t know how much more he could handle. How many more times could he witness the deaths of his loved ones? How many more failed attempts would he have to endure to finally get the ending he wanted?

It all felt hopeless. He was a failure as a child, and he was a failure now. 

Was there anything he could do right?

He would’ve liked to say he could punish himself properly, give himself the treatment he deserved, but that was apparently “wrong” as well. 

Growing more and more uncomfortable with the tension, Lu Guang lowered his head. Maybe if he stayed quiet enough, Cheng Xiaoshi would give up and leave him alone. It would be justifiable if Cheng Xiaoshi were to yell at him, tell him all of the different ways he’d fucked up, but Lu Guang didn’t want to deal with that right now. Maybe some other day. Would Cheng Xiaoshi be understanding enough to hold off on his lecture?

In the midst of his overthinking, Cheng Xiaoshi muttered: “Do you want to die, Lu Guang?” and Lu Guang simply froze.

Die? Did he want to die?

He didn’t know. He wouldn’t be opposed to it—the idea of resting after all of these years of suffering seemed amazing, but that would also mean he wouldn’t get any more time with Cheng Xiaoshi and Qiao Ling. He didn’t believe in an afterlife, so all he had to look forward to was becoming nothing. 

Was he alright with being reduced to that? Perhaps. But he wasn’t alright with leaving his family behind.

Did that qualify as wanting to die?

“No.” He didn’t think so. 

Cheng Xiaoshi kept his mouth shut. Lu Guang felt like Cheng Xiaoshi wanted to challenge his answer, but decided not to because they would probably end up arguing again, and no one wanted to argue in a hospital. 

So he hummed and accepted his response, even if he didn’t fully believe it. 

“So why… why starve yourself for so long? Why risk it?” 

“I-...” He what? The words died on his tongue. He had no explanation for his actions. All he knew was that he needed to hurt himself—he needed to give himself a reason to do better. Lu Guang sought perfection. Every failure of his was one step in the wrong direction, so he had to do something to get himself back on track.

And Lu Guang was raised in a strict household. For a little while, that was. But even if his time with Lu Dashan was short lived, the lessons he’d learnt would stick with him for life. 

Food was something he needed, but it could easily be taken away. It made the perfect motivator. It worked when he lived in his foster home; as a kid, he did everything he could in hopes of being given a meal. It only made sense that the same would apply to his adult self. 

Restricting gave him control. It allowed him to punish and reward himself. Who wouldn’t take that opportunity?

Lu Guang didn’t have the guts to say all of that. “I don’t know.” He refused to look anywhere other than his fingers, which were turning a little red from scratching his skin raw.

Cheng Xiaoshi didn’t speak for a bit. He just stood there. He waited. 

And waited.

And waited.

And then he placed a hand on the edge of Lu Guang’s bed, the other covering his eyes, and he sobbed.

The sound was enough to drag Lu Guang’s attention away from his hands. He stared up at his partner, who kept choking on his own cries. His body shook; Lu Guang could feel the tremors through the bed. 

“I shouldn’t have let you- starve- for nine days-” Cheng Xiaoshi’s grip tightened around the bar. Lu Guang wished he could put this hand on his, encouraging him to relax a little, but who was he to do such a thing? This was his fault. “I just didn’t know how to help you- I’m sorry, Lu Guang... I’m so sorry-”

“It’s not-” he struggled to speak, because what? Why was Cheng Xiaoshi apologizing to him? Shouldn’t it be the other way around? What Lu Guang did was his fault; no one else was to blame. “Why are you apologizing-? I don’t-”

But Cheng Xiaoshi shook his head. He tried to regain control over his breathing, but it was getting increasingly difficult—bordering impossible. 

“If I just pushed harder-”

“Stop-” Lu Guang pleaded, eyes beginning to water. He didn’t want Cheng Xiaoshi to blame himself—he couldn’t have Cheng Xiaoshi blaming himself. He tried to blink back the tears; it just barely worked. “It was my choice. You didn’t- I wanted this-”

Cheng Xiaoshi knitted his brows. “Wanted? You- you wanted this? That’s- you-...”

Lu Guang immediately caught his mistake. Again, another mistake. “No- no, I didn’t mean- I meant I chose not to eat. Not-... not that.”

“Well, no shit you chose not to eat,” Cheng Xiaoshi sniffled, growing a little frustrated. Why was it that he kept getting angry whenever they spoke about this? Is this why Lu Guang didn’t seem to fully trust him with his problems? “Wh- what do you mean you wanted this?”

He didn’t know what to say. As always. 

It seemed like he didn’t know anything these days, huh? All he knew was how to fuck things up. Lu Guang, the guy everyone claimed was rational, smart, and composed, was anything but. He was a mess, someone who picked up terrible habits during his childhood and didn’t have the power to let go of them. Even when he knew that what he was doing was “wrong”, he never made an effort to improve. That was how weak-minded he was.

This was the only thing that worked. Denying himself food was the only way he knew how to handle stress, the only way his body got the memo that he screwed up and needed to do better. Sure, it wasn’t ideal, and the consequences of not eating were grave, but the pros heavily outweighed the cons. 

“I had no other choice,” he muttered under his breath.

“Like hell you didn’t!” Cheng Xiaoshi immediately jumped in. He was still crying, his tears holding not just guilt, but irritation. “There were so many things you could’ve done, Lu Guang. You could’ve talked to Qiao Ling or me, sought professional help, or reached out, but instead you chose to deprive yourself of food. You chose to put your life in danger. And I don’t understand why you would do that- unless- unless you were okay with dying.”

“I told you I didn’t want to die…”

Cheng Xiaoshi scoffed. “Then give me reason to believe you!”

Lu Guang lowered his gaze. He knew Cheng Xiaoshi had a point. Why would he believe a word coming out of Lu Guang’s mouth if everything he’d said in the past few weeks had been lies?

I’m not hungry.

I’ll eat later.

I already had breakfast.

If Cheng Xiaoshi chose to never trust another thing Lu Guang said, he wouldn’t blame him. 

They both remained silent. Cheng Xiaoshi still didn’t take a seat, so he hovered over Lu Guang like a shadow. He trembled visibly, unable to maintain his composure. Lu Guang was growing tired of watching Cheng Xiaoshi cry—not because Cheng Xiaoshi didn’t deserve to let his feelings out, but because Lu Guang was not someone worth crying for. 

“I don’t want to die…” he mumbled, not really knowing why. Was it to prove a point? To argue against Cheng Xiaoshi’s beliefs? Or maybe it was to convince himself of these lies. 

Cheng Xiaoshi didn’t bother responding to that. He couldn’t. Not when he didn’t believe it. 

“You’ll talk to me one day about it, right?” he asked with the tiniest bit of hope, but his face revealed nothing but discouragement. “Tell me you will, Lu Guang. Please. I just- I can’t let you do this to yourself. I’m scared of waking up one day, and you’re just-...” 

Gone. Lu Guang knew where that sentence ended.

“I need you here,” his partner wept at his side. “I might not understand, but I want to. Please let me.”

Knowing his voice would crack if he dared to speak, Lu Guang settled with tipping his head down. Cheng Xiaoshi wasn’t the most satisfied with this reaction, but he supposed it was better than if Lu Guang completely shut him out. 

Cheng Xiaoshi let go of the railing and rubbed his eyes furiously with the balls of his palms. His tears at last stopped flowing, but that did not mean his face was any less damp. He swallowed down his nerves. “Qiao Ling is- she’s waiting outside. Let me-” he froze, then whirled around to face Lu Guang. “Are you okay with her coming in?”

Lu Guang stared at him, confused. Why wouldn’t he be okay with Qiao Ling in his room? It was only Qiao Ling.

His puzzlement was probably written all over his expression because Cheng Xiaoshi stumbled over his next words. “Right- of course you are. I just thought because you were cry- sorry. I think I’m more on edge than you- I’ll go-...” he hurried out, opening and closing the door before Lu Guang could say a thing. 

Weird. He wiped his eyes, ridding them of the minuscule tears that almost dried.

Just a minute later, the door swung open once more, this time with two people walking in. 

Qiao Ling locked eyes with him and waved, a gentle smile forming on her face. As they approached his bed, Cheng Xiaoshi pulled another chair and set it beside Qiao Ling’s. They both sat down, taking a moment to settle in. 

It was awkward for a second. 

“... So, how have you been feeling since waking up and talking to your doctor?” Qiao Ling wondered after a bit. She had her hands on his bed, fiddling with the sheets with her fingers. “I only know the basics of what happened, but I’m worried and want to know the whole ordeal—if you’re alright with that.”

“Uh…” he glanced around the room, taking note of every piece of machinery and equipment. “I’m doing fine… you don’t have to worry too much, Qiao Ling-jie. It was just- I just overdid it with the restricting.”

“... And?” Cheng Xiaoshi knowingly urged. 

He sighed uncomfortably. “And I was sleep-deprived and ‘too’ stressed out… or something.”

She nodded after every fact, taking in whatever she could. She asked him a few more questions about his condition, and Lu Guang was beginning to think she was secretly one of his nurses. Again, he told her not to concern herself too much about it, but she was definitely doing the opposite of what he’d asked. 

With every answer she received, her hands retracted further and further away from the bed, no longer playing with the blanket, which Lu Guang began to believe she was using as a distraction. 

By now, she was completely detached from the hospital bed, sitting in her own space.

Just then, Lu Guang heard a soft sniffle; he glanced up and caught a glimpse of Qiao Ling’s lip trembling before she dipped her head down. She suddenly tensed, shoulders high and squeezing inwards, fists curled against her lap. 

“Qiao Ling-jie…?”

Despite him calling her name, her gaze remained glued to the ground. It was obvious that she was trying to hold back her own tears. Up until this moment, she had been the calmest one out of the three of them. She was the one giving Cheng Xiaoshi and Lu Guang advice, supporting them like a good older sister, even in those moments when they seemed inconsolable. She held it together, but it seemed she, too, had reached her limit.

“I was- so scared-” she admitted so quietly that Lu Guang almost didn’t catch it. “You know how worried I was? I don’t want to lose you- Lu Guang- not from something I know I could’ve helped with-...” Her body shook as another sob was close to escaping; she was trying to lessen her tears. “I didn’t know what- what to do- I was just-... I-”

“... Qiao Ling-jie, you don’t-...”

She let out another cry, shaking her head. “What do you need from us? What do you need, Lu Guang?”

As she continued weeping, tears falling on her balled fists and tights, Cheng Xiaoshi couldn’t handle it anymore. He wouldn't stand by and do nothing, so he took his left arm and wrapped it around her shoulders. It had been a while since he’d witnessed Qiao Ling cry like this. Part of him was angry at Lu Guang for causing it, but he knew that anger was misdirected. Lu Guang was hurting just as much; he couldn’t blame him for being in pain no matter how badly he wanted to.

At the gesture, Qiao Ling shifted slightly so that her head rested on Cheng Xiaoshi’s shoulder. Her body was quivering, and in that moment, Cheng Xiaoshi saw Qiao Ling’s hurt. She had been struggling this whole time, hadn’t she?

Like always, she put her loved ones first. Being the oldest probably led her to believe that she had to be the one everyone could rely on. Cheng Xiaoshi and Lu Guang only proved that to her by accepting her comfort and never once asking how she was doing.

It must have been excruciating watching your brother and best friend break down in front of you. Having to witness one of them slowly killing himself while the other desperately tried to help, which was only worsening both of their state of mind. She felt entirely helpless during it all. 

What good would she be if she fell apart too? She wasn’t given an option. She was forced to fix everything; her family counted on her to keep them together, even as it weighed her down just as much.

She did her best to encourage Lu Guang to eat, using approaches that had worked for her in the past, but with every rejected meal, her panic increased. And then her brother—he wasn’t doing well either. While Lu Guang was actively damaging his body, Cheng Xiaoshi was overly stressed and too emotionally attached. Every time Lu Guang went to bed without any food in his system, Cheng Xiaoshi was crushed by fear and despair; he internalized Lu Guang’s suffering in an attempt to lessen his burden. 

Qiao Ling had enough. She couldn’t keep it together anymore. She was tired of pretending she wasn’t just as terrified and upset as the other two. Cheng Xiaoshi acknowledged that now. He was a fool to miss it completely before. 

Lazily, Cheng Xiaoshi brought his gaze from Qiao Ling to Lu Guang. He was unsure what expression he bore, but by the looks of his partner’s reaction, he assumed it wasn’t good. 

And Lu Guang, being the coward he was, couldn’t bear to look him in the eyes any longer. Cheng Xiaoshi was disappointed, frustrated, miserable, and it was all because of him.

He wanted to cry. His nose scrunched up, the first sign of tears, and then his sore eyes began to burn. But he blinked and blinked and blinked because he decided that he’d already cried enough times today. 

Qiao Ling, whose breathing started to straighten out again, sniffled and wiped her eyes, leaning back from Cheng Xiaoshi’s half-embrace. “I don’t know what to do anymore, Lu Guang. I- I don’t know how to help you-”

“... It’s not your job, Qiao Ling-jie.” Shame glazed over Lu Guang’s eyes. “I’m-... I’m not your responsibility.”

“But you’re my friend-” she argued hoarsely. “You’re family. Don’t tell me not to care-”

He shut his mouth without missing a beat. 

Even though he knew this wouldn’t have wrecked their relationship, it still felt surreal that they were still friends—still family.

Lu Dashan did not tolerate Lu Guang’s tears. Any emotion other than indifference was treated like something to be disgusted by. He never allowed Lu Guang to break down in front of him; if he did, it meant he was waiting for an opportunity to teach him a lesson. 

But here—with Qiao Ling and Cheng Xiaoshi—he could hit rock bottom, and still, they would be there when he woke up. 

The guilt he felt was overwhelming. “I’m sorry, Qiao Ling-jie. I’m- I’m sorry, Cheng Xiaoshi-” The two carefully glanced over at him. He clasped his hands together. “I’m sorry-”

He couldn’t stop. 

“I’m so sorry-”

Why couldn’t he say anything else?

“I’m sorry- I’m sorry-”

The words wouldn’t come to him. 

“I’m sorry—”

“Lu Guang-” Cheng Xiaoshi reached out, surprising himself by placing a hand on Lu Guang’s. “Stop. Please. We don’t- we don’t need apologies from you…” His tone was hesitant, a little exasperated, but his eyes showed that he cared. “Please… no more.”

None of them knew whether he meant ‘no more’ apologies or ‘no more’ starving. 

But he needed to apologize. He had to after everything. “I’m sorry-” he choked out.

Cheng Xiaoshi and Qiao Ling didn’t interrupt him, sensing that he wouldn’t stop even if they begged him to. They only watched as he drowned in self-loathing.

“I’m so sorry-”

* * *

Before they knew it, Lu Guang got discharged after all of his tests came back, deeming him stable enough to return home. Although he tried to “trick” the psychiatrist who had assessed him the morning of his discharge, he was still referred to a local therapist. He knew they couldn’t afford such services, but just to get the man off his case, he agreed to go. 

Cheng Xiaoshi and Lu Guang made it back to the studio in the evening. The entire cab ride home was tense and silent. Lu Guang fidgeted with his hospital bracelet as Cheng Xiaoshi texted Qiao Ling, apparently having a private conversation, so Lu Guang had no idea if they were talking about him or not. They probably were. He didn’t care.

The night at the hospital was slow and bothersome. Lu Guang wasn’t allowed to skip meals (obviously), but they also didn’t force him, just encouraged a few bites. He only really “enjoyed” it when bedtime rolled around, and no nurses or anyone tried to talk to him. 

Cheng Xiaoshi had been dragged back to the studio by Qiao Ling because she was not about to let him sleep in an uncomfortable chair, but he promised to come back as soon as he could—which he did. 

“I’ll go make dinner. Go change into some fresh clothes,” Cheng Xiaoshi said, locking the door. 

Lu Guang didn’t feel like getting into a disagreement with his partner, so he made his way to their bedroom to grab a change of clothes. While he cleaned up in the bathroom and ripped off the bracelet, Cheng Xiaoshi made them a light dinner so he wouldn't put too much pressure on Lu Guang.

When he finished cooking, he brought their plates to the sunroom, where Lu Guang was reading one of his novels. 

“What’s that one about?” Cheng Xiaoshi attempted to make conversation. He didn’t want their home to turn into some tense prison. “Here.”

Lu Guang thanked him for the food, but kept reading his book. He flipped the page. “Fantasy with some drama.”

“That all?” he joked, taking a bite of his creation (totally original), Bowl of the Male Dormitory. 

“They have powers,” Lu Guang shrugged, still not touching his food. Cheng Xiaoshi was growing a bit worried—he really didn’t want to fight tonight, especially not after Lu Guang got discharged. “Nothing like ours, but they’re still interesting. Elements.”

“Ahh…” he nodded, slurping loudly as if to hint at Lu Guang to take a bite of his food. 

They didn’t talk after that brief exchange. Cheng Xiaoshi ate his dinner while casting a thousand glances in Lu Guang’s direction, while Lu Guang was fixated on his book. It was obvious that he was trying to ignore the bowl in front of him, much to Cheng Xiaoshi’s dismay.

Once Cheng Xiaoshi was halfway done with his meal, he lightly nudged his partner. 

“Mm, what?”

He pointed at Lu Guang’s bowl with his eyebrows and chin, mouth full.

Lu Guang followed his gaze, sighing at the bowl of noodles. “I’m…”

He didn’t want to say he wasn’t hungry. He was sure that Cheng Xiaoshi would roll his eyes, leading them into another shouting match—maybe. 

Cheng Xiaoshi swallowed his food. “C’mon… just a few bites like your doctor said.”

Lu Guang didn’t look at him. He was undoubtedly uncomfortable. 

“Lu Guang…” came a whine from his side. It made him feel even worse. 

But still, he forced his discomfort down his throat and placed his novel on the coffee table. With shaky hands, he took the bowl into his hands and stared at the noodles. He swore they were making fun of him. 

To Cheng Xiaoshi’s delight, he took a bite. And another. 

He took five in total before grimacing and lowering his bowl. His eyes warily locked with Cheng Xiaoshi’s, and he could tell that he was a little sad, but he wasn’t angry, so that was a good thing. 

“Okay, that’s fine,” he gave up, knowing this was as far as they’d get tonight. 

Lu Guang couldn’t help but think, thank goodness.

For their first night back, things went quite smoothly. They didn’t argue, there were no tears, it was good. Cheng Xiaoshi honestly wanted to have a chat; he still had a lot of questions regarding Lu Guang’s behaviour and the motivation behind it all, but he could tell he wasn’t ready to open up. He’d leave it for now. Stuff like this couldn’t be rushed.

They went to bed without any issues, and Cheng Xiaoshi could only pray that the next days would be just as peaceful.

* * *

When Lu Guang awoke the next morning, he had to remind himself that he was back at the studio. Although he was only in the hospital for a little over a day, the time he spent there went by so slowly that it felt more like a week.

Satisfied with being in the comfort of his own bed, he let out a relaxed sigh and stretched his arms and legs. After tidying up a bit, he inched down the ladder and finally noticed the missing lump under Cheng Xiaoshi’s blanket. 

That wasn’t all too shocking, though. Ever since Lu Guang began eating… less, Cheng Xiaoshi became the early riser between them. 

Yawning, Lu Guang made his way downstairs, where he saw Cheng Xiaoshi preparing breakfast.

“Morning,” Cheng Xiaoshi greeted, sliding him a cup of coffee, which Lu Guang gratefully accepted. “Breakfast’s almost ready; you can chill in the sunroom if you want.”

“Mm.”

So that was what he did. 

Lu Guang opened his novel, trying to get a few pages in before Cheng Xiaoshi came in with their food, but his mind was preoccupied with worry. It was another meal, another unbearable experience. 

He anxiously sipped his coffee—it was genuinely the only thing keeping him sane. No, his book was not helping him right now. All he could count on was the caffeine in his hands. 

“Guang-Guaaang~” Cheng Xiaoshi sang his name, entering the sunroom with two plates. 

The food was put in front of him, just like last night with dinner. He glared at his breakfast with pure disdain, and Cheng Xiaoshi most definitely noticed it because he chuckled airily and started rambling about his troubles cooking this morning. Lu Guang couldn’t bring himself to actively listen; his attention was glued to his meal. 

His coffee and novel found their places on the coffee table, so Lu Guang just had his hands on his lap. 

Cheng Xiaoshi looked at him through his peripheral vision. He frowned. “Hey. You okay?”

“Huh?” He spun his head around, noting the look on his partner’s face. “Oh, yeah- I’m fine.” 

“You sure? You haven’t touched your food… it’ll get cold,” he stated calmly after assuring himself that they would not argue again. They could navigate this without raising their voices. 

He had a lot of talks with Qiao Ling—she was mostly scolding him for losing his temper so easily, but she also understood that it was his natural reaction when it came to worrying about Lu Guang, who couldn’t care less about his own health. 

Not knowing the reason behind Lu Guang’s restrictions was also a bit of a problem. He couldn’t effectively help him if he didn’t know what he was helping him with. All he knew was that sometimes, Lu Guang didn’t want to eat. He also knew about toys being taken away and given back depending on his behaviour, which was also related to his coffee consumption. 

That whole thing never left his mind. The entire time they were at the hospital, he ruminated on Lu Guang’s words. Cheng Xiaoshi was certain that food was treated the same way as his toys. But that was merely an assumption. An educated one, at that.

“Just a few bites?” Cheng Xiaoshi muttered, glancing at Lu Guang’s plate. 

Immediately, Lu Guang knitted his brows, sucking in a breath as he laid eyes on his food. “I ate just a few hours ago, though.”

Well, yes. Cheng Xiaoshi had to stop himself from telling Lu Guang that that was how dinner and breakfast appeared on a schedule. He bit his tongue. 

“Your doctor—”

“My doctor isn’t here.” Lu Guang’s voice was the tiniest bit louder. 

Cheng Xiaoshi instantly glowered at his tone. “No, he’s not, but that doesn’t mean you can go back to your habits. Come on, Lu Guang. Please, just eat a little bit.”

He wanted so badly to ask him why he acted this way, but Lu Guang was already agitated, so he knew it’d be useless. 

To his luck, Lu Guang gave up and gathered some food on his fork. Cheng Xiaoshi tried not to pay attention to him—maybe he would eat if he didn’t feel pressured to. He focused on eating his own meal, discreetly looking over at Lu Guang every now and then. 

And thankfully, he bit down. 

Cheng Xiaoshi mentally cheered. Lu Guang ate dinner and breakfast. Holy shit. And they didn’t scream at each other. No crying matches, no anger. Was this a dream come true?!

Content, he kept eating his own meal. Beside him, Lu Guang took another bite, but his eyes glistened with tears.

He felt like such a failure. 

When lunch rolled around, Cheng Xiaoshi was a little bit more confident. He'd managed to get Lu Guang to eat some of his dinner and breakfast, so he had high hopes for lunch. 

Meanwhile, Lu Guang was uncomfortably full. 

He wasn’t physically full, but it felt like more than he should have—more than he could have. Because Lu Guang still hadn’t made up for his mistakes. He hasn’t had the opportunity to punish himself. Cheng Xiaoshi was on his ass about his appetite, and he knew that refusing to eat could lead to another hospital trip. And as much as Lu Guang wished he could push the food away, he did not want to be back in that sterile prison. 

“Oh yeah, Qiao Ling said she was dropping by for lunch,” Cheng Xiaoshi informed him, taking out ingredients for a nice meal. Lu Guang scowled at the food but tried to hide it.

“Okay,” he gave an indifferent response. Cheng Xiaoshi raised a brow at him but returned to what he was doing when Lu Guang turned away. 

As Cheng Xiaoshi cooked lunch for them, Lu Guang was reading in the sunroom—this time, it was a comic that Cheng Xiaoshi had bought for him on his way home one day. He said it looked like something Lu Guang would be interested in, but Lu Guang thought he got it because the main characters kind of looked like them. 

The plot was good. It started off slow, but it kicked off once they were attacked by some mysterious antagonist. Just as he was about to flip the page, Cheng Xiaoshi rounded the corner, walking down the hall into the room. 

“Qiao Ling said she’d be a taaad bit late, so we can start eating!” he cheered, stomach grumbling. Cheng Xiaoshi set the two plates down and sat next to Lu Guang. Since he wasn’t all too worried about his partner not eating, he picked up his fork and enjoyed his meal. 

Lu Guang, on the other hand, did his best to keep his eyes off of the food. 

No. 

No.

He was not going to eat. Cheng Xiaoshi had already made him eat plenty. He did not need anything more in his system, no matter how much Cheng Xiaoshi pleaded. 

He chose to keep reading. 

Lu Guang had successfully flipped through five pages before he felt a tap on his shoulder.

He did not turn around to look at Cheng Xiaoshi. “Lu Guang.”

He tensed at his tone. It was not a happy one, not even a curious one. It was a warning. 

“Lu Guang.” He repeated. 

Trying to keep himself in check, he breathed out. “What?”

“Eat your lunch-...” the confidence he had tapered off a little. 

For some reason, his nervousness made Lu Guang feel good. Yes. Cheng Xiaoshi needed to be unsure; he couldn’t let him keep winning like this. 

“... Later.”

“Don’t start,” Cheng Xiaoshi frowned, putting his fork down. “You ate dinner last night, and you ate breakfast this morning,” he reminded him—as if he forgot.

Unfortunately, he couldn’t stop himself from rolling his eyes. “Yeah, I did. I’m not hungry because of that.”

“Are we seriously doing this again?” Cheng Xiaoshi placed his plate on the coffee table, fully turning to Lu Guang. He grabbed a hold of his comic book and closed it, not caring that Lu Guang lost his page—he’d find it easily enough. “I don’t want to argue.”

Lu Guang tried to snatch his book back, but Cheng Xiaoshi kept it out of his reach. “Ugh-” he fell on top of him; they were both sitting awkwardly on the couch, but neither looked too fazed by their position. If anything, they were focused on the comic. That and the food.

“Neither do I.” Lu Guang scoffed, leaning away from Cheng Xiaoshi after realizing he wouldn’t be getting his comic book any time soon. 

“Then stop doing this shit,” he tucked the comic between him and the couch. 

“I’m not doing anything.”

“I’m seriously sick of doing this with you.”

“Then stop butting into my—”

“Just stop.” Cheng Xiaoshi was exasperated at this point. He really didn’t want to fight anymore. His relationship with Lu Guang had been deteriorating these last few weeks all because of Lu Guang’s fucked up eating habits. 

He was genuinely tired of it. 

Cheng Xiaoshi loved Lu Guang—he wasn’t sure if ‘love’ was enough to describe how he felt about him, but that didn’t exempt him from Cheng Xiaoshi’s annoyance. 

If anything, Cheng Xiaoshi was more susceptible to getting frustrated with him because every threat to Lu Guang’s health felt like a threat to his own. 

But as he was about to continue scolding him, he looked Lu Guang in the eyes and saw the tears forming. As quickly as his anger arrived, it withered away. He could yell at Lu Guang, tell him how stupid he was acting, but he could not do that when he was falling apart like this. 

He shut his mouth. 

He didn’t move. He didn’t try to comfort him. He just sat there, contemplating. 

Lu Guang shook his head; he stood up and was about to walk away when Cheng Xiaoshi grabbed his arm. 

“Where are you going?”

“Nowhere—”

“Where are you going?” he demanded, kind of regretting his tone.

Lu Guang’s voice shook; he didn’t glance back at him. “Bathroom. I’m- I’m going to the bathroom.”

“You’re not getting out of eating lunch…” Cheng Xiaoshi told him carefully, just barely tightening his grip. 

But that seemed to have done it for Lu Guang. In a blink of an eye, he ripped his arm out of Cheng Xiaoshi’s grasp and stepped further away from him. He was breathing heavily now.

Cheng Xiaoshi immediately got up as well, making his way towards the other, but Lu Guang pushed him aside and choked on his words. “Stop. Stop it. You’re not- you’re not helping-” 

“Then how do you want me to—”

Lu Guang ruffled his own hair in frustration, “I don’t want you to do anything! Quit trying to save me!” his feet started moving before he registered it. Cheng Xiaoshi was not quick enough to react because the second he took a step in his direction, the bathroom door slammed shut.

Fuck.

Cheng Xiaoshi rushed to the door. “Lu Guang?” He tried the knob, but of course, it was locked. “Lu Guang, what are you doing?”

“Can you just leave me alone, Cheng Xiaoshi?!” he shouted from the inside, very clearly crying. 

But Cheng Xiaoshi couldn’t do that. Not when Lu Guang was breaking down. 

“Please, just let me—”

“Leave!” Lu Guang begged; his voice sounded further away from the door, like he was on the other side of the bathroom. He was most likely sitting against the bathtub. 

“I can’t just—”

“Leave me alone!” he was openly bawling now.

“Why do you do this?! Why do you keep doing this?!”

“It doesn’t concern y—”

“It does!” He shouted back, eyes wide and shaky. Cheng Xiaoshi couldn’t help but try the doorknob again. Of course, it was still locked. Obviously.

Lu Guang was sobbing in the bathroom, and Cheng Xiaoshi felt entirely helpless. He wanted to be there for him, wanted to assure him that things would get better with time, but how much time has passed since he first realized Lu Guang was struggling like this? 

Would things truly get better with time? Or was he just trying to fool himself into believing they would?

He wanted Lu Guang to ‘get better’. He was gradually becoming weaker and weaker, and Cheng Xiaoshi feared the worst. He wanted to support him, but it was hard when the only thing he knew about the issue was- was some stupid toys?!

That conversation never left his mind. It circled in his head over and over as he tried to figure out its importance. It had to be connected to the food issues. There was no other explanation.

“Cheng Xiaoshi,” came Lu Guang’s hushed voice. “Please, can you just—“

“The toys-!” Cheng Xiaoshi blurted out, interrupting Lu Guang mid-sentence. He shocked himself with what he had said—he did not mean to say anything.

Silence. 

Not a single word nor movement.

Then, “... What?”

Cheng Xiaoshi breath quivered, head resting against the door. He might as well confess what had been bothering him for some time now. “I’ve been-... Thinking about it for a while. The toys you mentioned a while back. That your parents took and returned depending on your behaviour.”

Lu Guang appeared to be a little stunned because he paused for a moment before speaking up again. “What about that…?” he asked warily.

“I’ve been thinking… there’s more to it than that- right?” Cheng Xiaoshi asked, but it almost sounded like a statement, like he was sure he was right. “It wasn’t just toys,” he struggled to add. The thoughts that appeared in his mind were not ones he particularly liked, but they made sense. 

It terrified him that they did.

In response, Lu Guang sucked in a breath. He could just barely hear it from the other side of the door.

No, it wasn’t just toys. It wasn’t toys to begin with. Lu Dashan? Buying him toys? What a load of bullshit. Lu Dashan would rather spend all of his money on alcohol and whatever nonsense kids didn’t recognize than buy things for Lu Guang to play with. 

The memories made him ill; Lu Guang let his head fall against his knees. He felt like a child again.

Plus, Lu Guang was no ordinary kid. He had powers. He could foresee the future, as they called it. The only “toy” Lu Guang ever received from that sickening man was a camera meant for dirty work. It was only a bonus that he got to take his own pictures with it. 

But he wasn’t going to say that to Cheng Xiaoshi. Not now, maybe not ever. But he could give him this: “No, it wasn’t.”

Cheng Xiaoshi bit the inside of his bottom lip, hesitating on continuing. “It was- it was about food too.” He wasn’t questioning him anymore—he was saying it as if he knew they were facts. “They took your food. That’s why-...”

Lu Guang curled more into himself. Cheng Xiaoshi was getting too close to the truth. His childhood, the one he’d kept hidden for as long as he could, was being brought to light. He wanted the floor to open up and swallow him whole—take him away from this situation because heaven knows he couldn’t have this conversation right now.

But his silence just confirmed what Cheng Xiaoshi was thinking.

And that made Cheng Xiaoshi sick. 

The mere idea of a younger Lu Guang being denied food because he was misbehaving or didn’t quite meet his parents’ standards made his head spin. Because who would do such a thing to a child? Who would ever think about depriving a kid of food, especially when they were young and growing? And to think his best friend, his partner, was one of the unlucky children who had to endure that kind of abuse wrecked him.

Even though he had done his best to keep the tears at bay (why was he such an emotional person?), clearing his face of any trace of sadness, it all went to waste because his lips trembled while the familiar sensation of stinging behind his eyes returned. 

Cheng Xiaoshi felt like he couldn’t stand anymore; he placed a hand on the door.

He didn’t want to go back to the couch even if his body desired it.

(He couldn’t stand not being near Lu Guang, so instead, he slid down against the door.)

Lu Guang did his best to school his emotions, but it was hard knowing how empathetic Cheng Xiaoshi was. He didn’t want to hurt him any more than he already had. He would never be able to forgive himself if he did. 

The same couldn’t be said for Cheng Xiaoshi; once he got on the ground, he pulled his legs closer and lowered his head into his hands. “I’m sorry. That’s-...” he sniffled, failing to stop the tears—because how could he not be devastated by this? “Why would your parents do that?”

Lu Guang didn’t know what to say, because he honestly didn’t understand it himself. How could a person be so cruel? So instead of answering, he corrected him. “Foster dad.”

Cheng Xiaoshi went quiet before muttering, “... Foster dad?”

“... I lived with my foster dad. For a bit.” It was the first time Lu Guang mentioned Lu Dashan to someone in years. The name hadn’t left his mouth in so long that he nearly forgot how bitter it felt on his tongue.

“You never mentioned you were in the system.”

Just how much did he not know about Lu Guang? They were best friends, partners, right? 

So why did he learn something new about Lu Guang every single day? He thought he knew Lu Guang inside and out—he prided himself on being so close to him. They were a pair; they were supposed to know each other as they knew themselves. Now, he wasn’t all too sure how true that statement was.

The thought of Lu Guang keeping even more secrets from him didn’t help his case. 

It kind of agitated him.

Lu Guang took a minute to respond. “It wasn’t a great time.”

… Right. Of course not. 

Cheng Xiaoshi felt a little guilty for getting so worked up. Lu Guang didn’t keep this from him because he didn’t trust him—he assumed—but because it probably traumatized him. 

“Ah.” What an idiot.

Lu Guang nodded even though he knew Cheng Xiaoshi couldn’t see him. 

They both sat in silence, taking the time to calm themselves down. Lu Guang sighed into his knees, the fabric of his pants soaking up his tears, while Cheng Xiaoshi rubbed his face against his palms. 

They were a mess. They’ve been a mess.

Still, they cared about each other. They loved each other, and that wouldn’t change. “I’m sorry. That sounds like… a lot.” Even though it was difficult to hear about, Cheng Xiaoshi finally knew the reason why Lu Guang starved himself—he knew about his past, and he now understood that he starved himself as a form of punishment.

Horrible. What a horrible discovery.

“It’s not your fault,” Lu Guang stated the obvious. “It’s fine.”

The back of Cheng Xiaoshi’s head hit the door with a thud. “It’s not fine… Stop saying things are fine when they’re the opposite of it. That was- that was abuse, what he did to you.”

That word weighed heavily on Lu Guang, because even if he logically understood that that was, in fact, abuse, admitting it wasn’t any easier. The thought that he had experienced domestic violence didn’t sound right. Him? He went through that?

But he wasn’t going to argue. The rational part of his brain knew better than to do that. “I… I guess.”

Cheng Xiaoshi didn’t stop there. “You know…” he wished he could face Lu Guang, look him in the eye as they spoke, because for once, this felt like a calm conversation; not to mention, Lu Guang was being honest. “You’re hurting yourself the same way he hurt you.”

Hearing that was not great.

Lu Guang felt defensive almost immediately. He snapped his head up when the words registered in his head.

He did not just say that.

“No-” he objected, voice overflowing with disgust. “No, I’m nothing like him.”

To his surprise, Cheng Xiaoshi agreed. “You’re right. You’re nothing like him…” his words died down at the end. He raised his voice as if to ensure Lu Guang heard what he said next. “So stop treating yourself like how he treated you.”

“I-...”

What did he have to say to that? Nothing.

Cheng Xiaoshi kept going. “Why do you want to continue your suffering?” His tone was quieter, gentle.

He didn’t want to. He wasn’t doing that. But Lu Guang still answered him. 

“It’s the only thing that worked,” he admitted, feeling the tears coming back. His blinking didn’t do anything to get rid of them. 

“It’s the only thing you tried,” Cheng Xiaoshi countered softly. 

He gave no response other than choking on a sob. He really didn’t feel like crying again, but he just couldn’t stop himself. Everything Cheng Xiaoshi said hit too deep, like his words ventured into the deepest parts of his soul and tried to tend to it. It had been a long time since he allowed someone this close. 

“Food isn’t a privilege, Lu Guang,” Cheng Xiaoshi reminded him, his own eyes beginning to swell. “You can’t just take it away and use that as motivation for… whatever it is.”

Lu Guang shook his head. This was too much.

“I don’t know how else to motivate myself. I don’t know how else to punish myself.” The words hurt, grazing harshly against his tongue as they slipped out. He knew it was wrong—that he shouldn’t think this way, but he couldn’t magically alter his mindset. 

“You don’t need to punish yourself for anything.” Cheng Xiaoshi’s heart broke with every sob. “What your foster dad taught you was messed up.”

“I know that- but-”

“You punish yourself enough by bottling everything up like this. You deserve a break, Lu Guang.”

“It doesn’t feel like I do,” he cried hopelessly.

Cheng Xiaoshi guessed he was going to say that. It was such a Lu Guang thing to think. 

His frown deepened, imagining how Lu Guang must look right now. “Then Qiao Ling and I will help you get to that point. We’ll take it one step at a time.”

A broken sniffle echoed through the door. “And if I mess up?”

“You will,” Cheng Xiaoshi said truthfully. He wasn’t going to put unrealistic expectations on Lu Guang. He wasn’t going to be like that bastard of a foster dad. “You will, but that’s okay. Do you punish me whenever I mess up?”

“Well, I—”

“And no, your lectures don’t count. That’s not the same thing as starving yourself.”

Defeated, Lu Guang mumbled, “... I guess not then.” Tears still rolled down his face, but his heart felt the slightest bit lighter.

“Stop giving yourself special treatment,” Cheng Xiaoshi attempted to joke around; he received a weak laugh as a reaction. “It’s not fair to me. Or Qiao Ling.” He smiled to himself, pleased their conversation didn’t go south for once.

Just then, the front door swung open.

A guest has arrived!

Speak of the devil.

“Hey, boys!” Qiao Ling’s voice travelled through the studio. She sounded quite happy, and her light steps proved it. 

She stared Cheng Xiaoshi sitting on the ground outside of the bathroom.

“Uh… what’s-?”

Lu Guang stayed sitting in his spot, but Cheng Xiaoshi quickly got up and greeted her, saying some other stuff as well. Lu Guang couldn’t make out what they were saying, words too muffled to make sense of, but he didn’t think too much about it. He’d done enough thinking for the next few months. 

He heard footsteps pass the door, and a hushed ‘Hi, Lu Guang’ slipped in.

She didn’t sound all too worried. In fact, her voice came off rather calm.

Noises emerged from the sunroom, so Lu Guang assumed the two of them went to eat, providing him space, which he was grateful for. 

He needed a moment. Maybe a few moments, actually. 

Lu Guang sat against the tub for around five minutes, letting his tears dry and his breathing stabilize. Once he felt relaxed enough, he stood up from his spot and stretched a little. He made his way to the mirror and looked at his reflection.

Tired.

Really fucking tired. 

And…

He lifted his shirt—just enough to see his abdomen. 

And god. Cheng Xiaoshi was right to be concerned. He was skin and bones. He didn’t realize it was this bad. While holding his breath, he traced along his protruding ribs with his other hand, letting it sink in that he was actually killing himself. 

He was actually killing himself.

This was what he looked like when he lived with Lu Dashan.

Cheng Xiaoshi had a point. He was treating himself just like Lu Dashan treated him. It was sickening how he let himself get this bad. His ribcage should not have been that visible. 

He gritted his teeth, an unidentifiable emotion rising within.

No, he couldn’t have this. He wouldn’t allow it. 

He wasn’t him. He wasn’t him.

All this time, he was taking what he had learned from Lu Dashan and lived by his word. It felt wrong now. Why was he acting like someone he hated with his entire being? He swore he’d never be like him, yet here he was, doing exactly what Lu Dashan would’ve done.

He furiously shook his head. Gross. Gross. He didn’t want to be like him. Why was he doing this to himself?

Gradually lowering his shirt, Lu Guang took a deep breath. He ran some cold water, splashed it on his face, and dried it off. He looked at himself in the mirror once more. This time, he looked somewhat better. 

His body underneath his clothes did not change. He was still too thin to be considered healthy, but he was finally coming to the understanding that what he was doing was wrong.

And this time, it stung a little less to admit that he was wrong. The urge to punish himself for it was being challenged—it was a faint feeling, but it was there.

He acknowledged the pain and suffering he put himself through, and he was pretty sure wanted to get better. Maybe. Possibly. He didn’t know what he wanted to do for certain. 

But what he did know was that he didn’t want to be like his foster dad—didn’t want to carry the same beliefs as him.

One step at a time. He’d figure it out someday.

After counting down a few times in his head, he twisted the doorknob and stepped out of the bathroom. Cheng Xiaoshi and Qiao Ling seemed to be having a light conversation in the sunroom, but ultimately paused when they heard the door open. 

“Hey, Lu Guang,” Qiao Ling smiled at him, any proof of deep worry absent from her expression. “Your food is getting cold.”

On the couch, Cheng Xiaoshi looked at him with sad, but calm eyes. He took another bite of his lunch.

Lu Guang saw his spot on the couch still open, food unattended. His mouth curved, just enough to show.