Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

1 Year after Jiang Yanli and Jin Zixuan’s Funeral

Co-parenting Jin Ling had been going pretty well, Jiang Cheng thought. He might not be a natural, but he worked hard and remembered well. Jin Ling didn’t have any reason to complain about him. Well, maybe the Meng household was more fun with Rusong and Little Fairy there too and they always seemed to have unending snacks. (How did they never run out of organic gummy candies? How?) But Jiang Cheng could buy snacks too and toys and other bribes.

It just worked.

Until he got the text from Meng Yao – the first time directly to him and not in a group text since ever – that he and Qin Su were getting a divorce. He said it was “amicable” and “mutual.”

Turned out, that actually meant it was going to be a really ugly divorce.

Soon they were in court bickering about whether either of them was fit to have sole-custody of Rusong, let alone Jin Ling. Someone accused someone of cheating, lying, and financial fraud. (“What the fuck?”). Regardless of the details of their split, as far as Jiang Cheng could see when he brought Jin Ling to play with his cousin, they both managed to fake smile for their son’s sake and coordinate visitations seamlessly.

So, Jin Ling ended up living at the condo full time while Little Rusong alternated weeks with his estranged parents. Little Fairy moved into the condo too, he had been above the allowed weight limit, but Jiang Cheng had reminded the landlord he’d lived there for six years without any noise complaints and would overpay the pet fee. Also, he may have glared the man down until he decided it wasn’t really worth getting into a fight over seventy pounds of dog.

Having Jin Ling all the time was kind of better for Jiang Cheng. Well, it was harder too, with now zero free time and no co-parents to help. However, it also meant Jiang Cheng got to make all the decisions that worked for Jin Ling and him, and that had definite pros.

On the anniversary of the funeral, Wei Wuxian came over with Lan Wangji. And a kid. He called him Wen Yuan, and Jiang Cheng just nodded and opened the door. His fingers might itch to slam a door in his brother’s and his brother-in-law’s faces, but it seemed more awkward and inappropriate when there was a child in tow.

So they sat at his kitchenette set, and Lan Wangji made his version of “happy pancakes” that were shaped like bunnies (which were unfairly precise and tasty) and his brother reheated something else in his stove that was too spicy and burnt to be called food.

Jing Ling and Wen Yuan played together with A-Ling’s toddler puzzles. Wen Yuan was older, but didn’t show obvious signs of boredom, just patiently helped A-Ling match colors together. Jiang Cheng realized he liked the kid.

So everything was ok as they mourned together and remembered, silently. They didn’t say anything about their sister or brother-in-law, but they knew each other knew and felt it. They were also aware that each of them mourned alone. They both cried over pictures and dreams that would never come true for Yanli-jie and Zixuan, just never together.

Together, they pretended everything was fine and that they were having a normal conversation about regular things on an average day. Just for some reason together in Jiang Cheng’s house over bunny-shaped happy pancakes.

“I’ve, uh, been thinking about family. About family a lot lately. We’ve decided to move back home.”

“I’ll ring mother to make sure she knows you’ll be needing your room back. I think she made it into a home gym/storage space for out-of-season clothes.”

“Haha, no. Just to town. Lan Zhan’s uncle is still here and his brother visits pretty frequently. And for me, well, for me you’re here and so is A-Ling. Lan Zhan and I can work from pretty much anywhere – the beauty of freelance cultivating and investing. We, uh, found a house.”

“A house? You’re buying a house?”

“Well, in a way. I want you to see it. I want you to join us for a housewarming. It’s 30 Qishan Lane.”

“Qishan – isn’t that where the Wens grew up?”

“Uh yeah, Grannie Wen is kind of going into an assisted living home near the hospital where Wen Qing works. So, the house was empty I guess?”

“They what – just offered it to you? For what, for free?”

“Well, no, the house actually belongs to little A-Yuan. We’re moving in and taking care of each other.”

“A-Yuan is what six?”

“Yeah, it’ll officially belong to him once he turns eighteen. His dad was the Wen’s cousin. Well, he was a Wen too, but he’s cousins with the Wens we went to school with. Wen Qing - now a heart surgeon which is, well, kind of expected? Still amazing. And Wen Ning who somehow grew up to be a bassist in Black Blood Rain. Who thought he’d ever have the courage to play in front of people, I mean–”

“You’re babbling. I know who the Wens are. That’s why I asked if it was the house they grew up in?”

“Well,” Wei Wuxian hesitated.

Why is he so nervous, Jiang Cheng thought.

“It would mean a lot if you’re there for the housewarming. A lot to me. We can plan the day around when you’re available. I mean, you’re basically always available but a day that you chose, ok?”

“I –, ok,” he watched Wei Wuxian’s face, then his eyes darted to Yanli-jie’s son and the older boy helping him figure out the colorful plastic game he had in his hands. He spoke in their general direction, “That’s fine. I, er, thank you? Thank you for making me part of it?”

“Yeah, we’re family. Always.”

“Yeah, we are.”

2 Week Laters

Jiang Cheng chose the last Thursday of the month, and Wei Wuxian agreed. So as Jiang Cheng sat in his car with A-Ling in the car seat, wondering if he could still back out of this, he really knew he couldn’t. He’d chosen the date. He’d promised A-Ling would be there for at least 20-30 minutes. He was trapped, if he didn’t go in now, he would look like the world’s worst brother/uncle. And, while maybe Jiang Cheng didn’t care what strangers thought generally, he did care about having to face their assorted neighbors and old acquaintances (Wei Wuxian’s friends) in town for the rest of their lives if they thought he was a crappy uncle. 

So, he toted A-Ling out of the backseat and walked up to the door. Against his better judgment, he raised his hand and knocked against the frame.

“Hello,” Lan Wangji opened the door promptly. As if he had been standing sentinel beside it, because he probably had. 

“Uh, hi. Where is my brother?”

“Finishing up a call in another room.”

“Ok, and where can I put our coats?”

“I can take them. We’re putting them in the dining room for tonight.”

“Ah, that’s fine. I know the way. No need to, uh, leave the door.”

Lan Wangji looked at him for a long moment, cool eyes inscrutable, then nodded.

“Ok then,” Jiang Cheng walked down the narrow hallways. He didn’t actually remember the way, having only tagged along with Wei Wuxian here a handful of times a decade ago, but it seemed preferable to figure it out himself than make his brother-in-law leave his post at the door. It took a couple of turns but he found a formal dining room with vaguely familiar old furniture. The real challenge was carefully avoiding and/or nodding at the handful of other people who had already arrived.

“Jiujiu. Potty.”

“Ah, ok, jiujiu will find it,” Jiang Cheng knew he could ask Lan Wangji, but he did vaguely remember the Wens had had a jack-and-jill bathroom. He remembered being horrified and grateful in equal measure that he hadn’t had to share a bathroom with his sister like that and ever risk accidentally walking in on her or her walking in on him. It was random enough to create a memory, and he knew it was upstairs somewhere.

So, continuing to meticulously weave around and dodge any other guests, he maneuvered to the stairway covered in grayish carpeting. At least the extra cushioning provided muffled squeaking on the old stairs.

The stairs ended in a landing with more grayish carpet and walls with doors he…might remember? Might not? Was it just the power of suggestion?

He needed to get into one of the Wen siblings old bedrooms and then on through to the bathroom, as he approached, he heard his brother’s laughter. Ah. It seemed the room to the left was occupied. So, to the right –

To the right was apparently a linen closet. However farther to the right was the door that led into a bedroom he vaguely recognized as having been Wen Ning’s. It still had his old desk in the corner that Wei Wuxian had covered in stickers. Now though, it must be Wen Yuan’s. There was a neatly made bed with cars on the sheets, age-appropriate toys, a miniature keyboard, and on the wall: two doors. The first one Jiang Cheng tried led to another closet, this time full of little clothes. The other to a bathroom. Ha!

He helped roll down Jin Ling’s little pants and underwear so he could use the toilet (which was pink like the rest of the ceramic surfaces in the bathroom). As he began the wait for his nephew to finish and prepared to help him wash his hands, he heard Wei Wuxian laugh again. Except closer, he must be just on the other side of the adjoining door.

The muffled voices were clearer now.

“Sangsang, honestly, I miss you too much.”

“I know, I miss you too. My life, my heart, and my stomach are empty without you.”

“What you want me to cook for you now?”

“No way, haha, but I wouldn’t mind going out to eat and devouring everything on a menu with you again.”

“That was one time~~!”

“The best time.”

“Tell the boyfriend to take you out then –”

“Ah, I can’t he’s busy with the gallery opening. So boring~~. Remind me to never become a gallery owner, it's so much work all the time. I just want to create things that make me feel alive, not figure out rent and 'miscellaneous other expenses.' Everything costs money.”

“Haha, try renovating a house. Lan Zhan has been tallying up all the maintenance expenses, we’re so deep in the hole. At least it’s for a good cause, A-Yuan will have it forever.” 

“And, even more valuably, he’ll have you forever.”

“Yeah, yeah, I think so.”

“Well, I wish I could be there with you all tonight~.”

“But you can’t city boy. See you at the opening.”

“Yes, if I can decide on my pieces or finish new ones in time, otherwise we can drink the night away instead.”

“Haha, you mean we’ll be drunk together while we stand by Xiao Xingchen to support him for finally co-opening the gallery.”

“Yes, supportive and drunk.”

“Supportively drunk.”

“Haha, sounds good, bye bye!”

“Bye!”

Jiang Cheng heard his brother moving around in the other room and close the door, his head ringing softly. He stayed there for a moment until he felt a tug on his shirt sleeve.

“Done,” Jing Ling announced.

“Yeah, that’s good. Ok, A-Ling,” he helped him flush and wash his hands.

By the time they exited through Wen Yuan’s bedroom, the second floor seemed to be completely empty except for the two of them.

It was a quick walk down the stairs and someone he vaguely knew from high school wanted to coo of A-Ling. She said something about having been on the cheer team with Yanli-jie, so he stopped and let her smile at A-Ling until his nephew looked away and buried his face again Jiang Cheng’s chest.

“Ah, he’s shy,” Jiang Cheng said.

“I can see that, like his uncle. You always were too. Shy, I mean.”

“Not really, I just don’t like talking to people much.”

“Isn’t that kind of what shy means?”

“Ah, I need to…um,” What excuse would work to get away from her. He couldn’t think of anything, except who was already on his mind, “find my brother.”

“Oh, sure thing, I saw him come down the stairs a little before you did. He went left.”

“Ok, thank you.”

“No problem,” she smiled at A-Ling once more and Jiang Cheng nodded at her for a moment before turning away. His brother, it turned out, was in the kitchen checking on...something he had put in the oven.

Jiang Cheng felt a pull in his stomach that he could acknowledge was a physical manifestation of him wanting to ask about Huaisang. But, how? But, why? He couldn’t make his mouth find words.

“A-Cheng! A-Ling!” Wei Wuxian threw his arms around them both, “I have special snacks for this littlest baby bug.”

“Nothing too spicy,” he finally said. Maybe he couldn’t talk about Huaisang, but knew how to talk about A-Ling. With his nephew, he knew what to do.

“Of course not, I read a parenting blog or two.”

“You did? Why?”

“Well, I have a wide variety of interests. Anyway, they’re these limited edition cookies, they come with different collectible toys in each box. A-Yuan and all his friends are obsessed with them, let’s see, we have a couple of the green kind. Let’s open, them, huh? There is a toy inside. For you, A-Ling.”

“Not, Wen Yuan? They’re not his cookies?”

Wei Wuxian gave him a withering look, “I have multiple green boxes. The color coordinates to the prize. A-Yuan is set.”

It turns out the color of the box did not coordinate with the toy, so Wei Wuxian had to open up three more boxes to find a toy he knew A-Yuan already had to switch with for A-Ling.

A-Ling for his part was only interested in the cookies and was mildly cranky when Wei Wuxian pressed the toy to his chubby hand.

As A-Ling ate, Jiang Cheng waited and they made small talk about work and taxes and A-Ling’s progress learning to count past 300. When Wei Wuxian switched the tray of food (?) that smelt strongly of chili oil, he decided to casually share how he was going into the city for Huaisang’s gallery opening and asked Jiang Cheng to come too. Totally normal. Totally casual. Except for how it didn’t make Jiang Cheng feel normal or casual at all.

He struggled and Wei Wuxian watched his face. He knew his brother knew...something. He was too smart not to. To any reasonable person, Jiang Cheng and Nie Huaisang had been done for almost seven years, but since they had been friends long before that they still seemed to get on ok whenever they ran into each other. But, Wei Wuxian was rarely reasonable and probably knew something, probably Huaisang told him something. And he knew Huaisang told him he had a boyfriend, because Jiang Cheng had just overheard them.

If Wei Wuxian was trying to suss out if his brother hadn’t moved on years ago or something, well there was nothing to find. He had moved on with his life. Where was there a space for Huaisang here? There wasn’t. He had moved on.

Over the past year or so, he and Huaisang had just begun running into each other again sometimes and having sex. Then they went back to not talking to or texting each other.

Yet, he was angry, more than he should be. If he had really mastered himself, he knew that Huaisang having a boyfriend who was also successfully doing art, was objectively a good thing. Good for Huaisang. Great for Huaisang. In his heart, he did want Huaisang to be happy, more than many other things he could want. So why was he upset?

He imagined Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji laughing with Nie Huaisang and his faceless new boyfriend over champagne in a location that vaguely resembled a museum. Probably laughing at something Wei Wuxian was saying (that was typically the case in reality too), and yet he couldn’t help but feel like they would be laughing at him. Acknowledging, simply through his absence, that he was becoming a miserable old man, alone, who hadn’t moved on from his first heartbreak. (Even though he had!)

“We’ll see,” he told his brother frowning, which meant ‘yes,’

Wei Wuxian smiled innocently, which meant he was plotting to ruin Jiang Cheng’s life, “Then, we’ll make a night of it. In a month.”

“A month?”

“It’s a fancy thing. Fancy things take time.”

-

One month later

It wasn’t really a fancy thing. At least, not fancy to Jiang Cheng’s eye. It was an industrial looking loft that felt like it was breaking fire code with forty people crammed inside. There was art everywhere – mounted on the walls, positioned on podiums, hanging down from the ceiling – but it was too cramped to get close enough to really see any of it without elbowing someone else to the side or leaning over a stranger.

So Jiang Cheng stood holding a can of what he was told was wine in a designated refreshment space off to the side. He sipped it. Alright, then.

He waited for Nie Huaisang to show up so he could genuinely congratulate him for living his life well. This was a good thing. A great thing. A thank you for allowing my brother and I to come-and-stand-here-and-drink-your-alcohol thing.

Then he continued to wait and wait. Once he finished his second canned wine, he decided he was feeling a lot less good and great, and a lot more tired and annoyed.

Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian had snuck off at some point while claiming to attempt to appreciate the art. He decided he didn’t want to know and grumbled to himself looking for a bathroom.

“If you can’t find it, you can just piss off the fire escape.”

“Oh? Is that what passes for art around here. Who’d have guessed?”

“Hm, maybe. If the plumbing is as good as I think it might be.”

“Ha, got it, but I’m not interested.”

“Well, show me yours and I’ll show you mine, and maybe you’ll start to feel interested.”

The person speaking had dark hair shaved on the left side, but falling long everywhere else. It was kind of an interesting look. It’s not like he’d be having sex otherwise, he rationalized. Nie Huaisang had a boyfriend for at least over a month, since that’s how long Jiang Cheng had waited to come to this event-thing.

However, while he’s in the city and this person was so interested…and he’d never have to see this person again… That was a benefit in itself. Why hadn’t Jiang Cheng successfully done this before? He knew why. Jiang Cheng had been blacklisted by all the people around his age in town he’d be willing to bring himself to try to date. He was too busy with work and Jin Ling to try anything else or seek anything farther away.

Well, except the dating app Jin Zixuan had once installed on his phone. Though apparently he was too rude, too short, and asked too many questions about STDs for anyone online within 15 miles too. And now the app made him think of his brother-in-law and his angry texts to him about how useless it was. He couldn’t make himself delete it, but he also couldn’t make himself use it either. Not while knowing he couldn’t vent about its many inadequacies and matching algorithm failures to Zixuan again.

He’d only ever successfully been with Huaisang, a fact that had been coiling around in his stomach uncomfortably recently. It hadn’t bothered him especially in the past or, rather, he’d intentionally ignored and repressed it.

He liked his own space and his own rules. Also, the pregnancy, adoption, and collapse of his relationships with Huaisang and most everyone he’d known in high school had…left him with even more issues around intimacy and trust that he’d had growing up. He’d rather never deal with it all, ever.

He wondered if Huaisang knew or guessed or even had feelings like these too. Probably not.

He and Huaisang had been each other’s firsts. Jiang Cheng knew his lover’s doubts, fears, and the ways his body dysmorphia manifested. Jiang Cheng had tried to kiss it all away once while he held Huaisang, but doubted he’d ever done much at all. Jiang Cheng also knew Huaisang always liked people more than he did, and liked sex. Jiang Cheng expected Huaisang hadn’t accidentally become celibate as he had. (Well celibate except for Huaisang, obviously…)

Jiang Cheng looked at the person in front of him and decided.

“Ha, is that so? I’m kind of hard to please.” Jiang Cheng said trying to modulate his tone to something deeper, cool, and/or seductive.

The person’s eyes flashed, ah, had that been too much? Too weird? How does one flirt to pick someone up at a gallery opening-thing without sounding like a joke or a jackass?

“I bet you are,” they said. Then, without any preamble, there was a hand on his chest sliding down, down, down. Until is rested on his belt buckle, “So am I.”

Then the hand found its way between his legs, over his pants, of course. But still, he was being felt up in a public place where people were squished around him to a gross degree.

It was weird, more startling and new than actually enjoyable. Yet, here he was. Should he reach back and touch the person in front of him? The bare neck in front of him – he could run his fingers up and down it. He knew how to do that. He could do that, but –

“Jiang Wanyin.” He jolted at his name.

“Nie Huaisang,” he gasped, embarrassingly.

Nie Huaisang turned his eyes away from him and addressed the person with their hand on his dick, “Sorry, I don’t mean to interrupt. His brother lost him and got worried. He has to be home tonight before his curfew, I guess.”

“What does that mean?” Jiang Cheng frowned at him.

“Ask Wei Wuxian. Actually, just text him now, let him know I found you.”

He expected Huaisang to leave now that he had in fact found him, what more was there to do? But he stayed, watching as he texted his brother.

‘Hey?’ he sent off quickly. It showed ‘Read’ almost immediately.

Funny, he had no missed texts from Wei Wuxian. Of course, his brother wanted to make some big joke about having Nie Huaisang find him maybe with his new boyfriend in tow, while Jiang Cheng was alone with his third canned wine. Probably trying to shame or embarrass Jiang Cheng into finding someone and moving on, except Wei Wuxian had royally screwed that up. Since he had accidentally gotten Nie Huaisang to cockblock him (Well, probably? Who knew how far this was going to go before something else went wrong as it always did with Jiang Cheng’s sex life?) instead.

“Also, Xue Yang. I liked your piece ‘slices of apple.’ How are you?” Nie Huaisang said lightly.

The person he had been flirting with removed their hand and leaned a bit further back before answering, watching them intensely, “Ok, living life to live it I guess.”

“Yeah, cool. I get it. I get it a lot. Let’s go Jiang Cheng.” His slim fingers wrenched around his forearm.

“What? Nie Huaisang? What’s wrong with you?” Nie Huaisang didn’t reply until they had zig-zagged into what looked to be a rickety freight elevator – not the packed main elevator he’d taken up to this floor – alone.

“Xue Yang is great…really great in his own way. Talented as an artist to an extreme. However, Xue Yang would eat you alive.”

Jiang Cheng suddenly doubted himself and his judgment under Nie Huaisang’s knowing gaze. So, of course, he had to double down and bite back, “But, how is that your choice to make for me? You don’t get a say in my sex life – when, where, or with who.”

Huaisang considered him, cooly, “Of course. You’re right. My bad. I think I had just made the mistake in thinking you came here to support the gallery and see my pieces. That’s fine. Good to know you just took the chance to sightsee in the city and look for people who would put a hand on your dick. And, what, take the first one back to your hotel? You really showed me, huh?”

Jiang Cheng saw spots of red, feeling like his desperation and loneliness were exposed in all their ugliness. Huaisang knew just how to scald him with his own shame, “Nie Huaisang. What the fu-”

Huaisang stared back, cold and unnaturally calm, “Because usually, it's me, right? I wasn’t the first to get to you this time, so it's someone I know instead. Someone I’ve known for years at the gallery where I work. That’s cool. That’s so cool, Jiang Cheng.”

“What are we even talking about now? How was I to know-? I wasn’t even-,” Maybe the canned wine was stronger than he thought because life felt suddenly a bit hyperreal.

Huaisang continued to stare at him, “We’re talking about how you only think with your dick. At least, it’s all you’ve wanted from me for years now. You basically hate me and resent me, but you’ll still fuck me, right? So long as I’m first in line and jumping at the chance to take a ride in your lap. And aren’t I always? Nearly always.”

“Huaisang?”

The elevator opened. They were back in the gallery. No, they were still in the gallery. Huaisang had pressed for the door to close but never pressed for a floor to go to.

“Um, going down?” Asked a person wearing some kind of flower crown made of tissue paper and – maybe – trash bags?

“Yeah, sure. Why not?” Huaisang asked. “I’m good to go down. Jiang Cheng knows, don’t you, A-Cheng?”

Jiang Cheng just looked at him. What the fuck is going on?

“Ok, that’s where I need to go,” Trashbag flower crown got in the elevator with them. Huaisang snorted and then laughed. Even in spite of how they were basically fighting right now, they shared a look over how absurd this moment was. What the fuck? Why was the freight elevator in such high demand in the middle of this?

When the elevator landed in a small nook off the bright, open lobby, Trashbag flower crown hummed to himself and stepped out. Jiang Cheng motioned for Huaisang to exit too. He really did not want to be here anymore, it was too hot, too crowded, and he felt exposed.

Huaisang shook his head, still laughing a bit, but then he got out of the elevator with him.

“I didn’t know that person was someone you knew,” It felt ridiculous because yeah, this was a place he went to see Huaisang, so it made sense he would know people there. Ugh. Then he continued defensively, “Honestly, I don’t get why it would be a problem since we’re not, well…, but I also get that it is so. Whatever. Even though I’m single and I don’t ask about what you do.”

Huaisang watched him, and Jiang Cheng struggled to continue, “And, as for the other stuff. For the stuff I think you were saying. No, I don’t hate you or resent you. Although I kind of do hate that you thought I did when we were…when we were hooking up and stuff though.”

Unexpectedly, he saw the tears on Huaisang’s cheeks. They were so faint at first and then rolling down until his nose was running too and his face was red and splotchy. Jiang Cheng became hyperaware that they were in a lobby, visible from nearly every angle, and anyone could walk by them. And he didn’t know where his brother was.

Jiang Cheng itched to just exit through the glass doors, not too far away now, with Huaisang. Just leave, they could go to the coffee shop again – if he could find it – get Huaisang napkins for his face and that drink he had ordered that time. He must have liked it, so much so he finished it in Jiang Cheng’s hotel room, even after all the ice had melted, before he left. Huaisang wouldn’t have to be crying in the middle of the gallery opening that was so important for him it took a month (or maybe longer, Jiang Cheng has only known about it for a month) to happen.

“Do you want to get out of here? Can we?” Jiang Cheng asked.

“What, after everything? You want me like this. And I thought you had better taste than that,” he gestured to his red eyes and running nose, “well what do I know –”

“For fuck sake,” Jiang Cheng just stood there like a log, like he didn’t know quite how his hands or feet worked, only managing to breathe.

Huaisang shook his head and looked up at Jiang Cheng. He was going to say something Jiang Cheng knew. He was probably going to win this fight. Huaisang always could when he wanted to, he just so rarely wanted to.

“You were going to leave our hometown and never go back, get a corner office overlooking a skyline of skyscrapers. You wanted to be able to buy a couple of McMansions for your siblings to live in with big-ass cars.”

“I thought I wanted to be Jin Guangshan or Wen Ruohan when I was seventeen because I was seventeen. It’s embarrassing now, don’t bring it up.” Jiang Cheng managed, somehow strangled.

“What do you have that you want? You live in a condo complex you always mocked in high school because it’s called “Restful Acres Condominiums” like a graveyard. And it’s not even on a singular acre of land. And it's in the town you always wanted to escape from since the day you moved there. And you drive a secondhand car you can barely fit into to watch a child you hardly know from afar on Friday nights.”

“So what - you can’t believe how far I am from who you thought I’d be?”

“That’s not it. I wouldn’t change anything about you. Not any of your stupid things. Not even one stupid thing. God. I just want you to have what you want. And you never do.”

“What does that even mean? When you know–. Fuck. When you know more than anything I’ve ever wanted – it was you and our child?”

“Jiang Cheng, Jiang Cheng,” Huaisang shook his head, “He's the Ouyang’s child - they love him. He loves them. Even before he was born we decided he would be their child. Why do you act like we didn’t? They’re precious together and happy.”

“I’m not stupid Huaisang, I remember what we agreed. And so? He’s still my son. He’s half me, he’s some percentage jiejie too, and he’s A-Ling’s cousin. I don’t just stop being his father because I’m not raising him. Not any more than Changze-shushu stopped being Wei Ying’s when my parents adopted him.”

“I’m not arguing that Jiang Cheng. I’m not. I’m–”

Someone cleared their throat behind Jiang Cheng's shoulder, “Excuse me, Huaisang, I’m super sorry to interrupt. Security told us there was - something happening here. And you, sir, I’m going to have to ask you to leave the premises.”

Sir. They were addressing Jiang Cheng.

“If you refuse to leave, we will be forced to get the security team involved.”

Jiang Cheng froze suddenly aware of how he looked in the eyes of whoever this person was in high heels with hair teased high. He was holding Huaisang’s shoulders – when had he started touching Huaisang? – and leaning over him while he cried. Fuck. He wanted to scream that he was helping him or trying to. Huaisang had brought them to the elevator in the first place and then there was trashbag flower crown and they got here.

And now Jiang Cheng just wanted to hold Huaisang against him and comfort him while also somehow escaping his own skin and throwing up. Ugh. Instead of spilling out his inner conflict in some arrangement of words, sounds, and/or motions, Jiang Cheng just carefully removed his hands from Huaisang.

“Everything is alright, really, thanks,” Huaisang told her, soft and placating. Honestly, that just made it look worse.

“I’ll leave,” he nodded at the woman trying to stare him down. He stared back at her even when he spoke to Huaisang, “Huaisang. You’re good. Great. Do your art together. Have a good relationship with your boyfriend. Congratulations.”

Jiang Cheng swallowed the feelings threatening to overwhelm him and walked towards the glass door in quick, efficient strides.

“Ah,” Huaisang said now from some distance behind him, “so Wei Ying must have said something strange–.” Then finally Jiang Cheng pushed through the doors and made his way out into the night.

He’d have to text his brother, but not right now. Not when he was Nie Huaisang’s friend more than Jiang Cheng’s. They were brothers, yes, but if Wei Wuxian had to chose who to go to lunch with or watch movies besides or do nearly anything with, Jiang Cheng knew it wouldn’t be him. It had always been that way. Not that Jiang Cheng didn’t understand, if given the choice he’d pick to do everything with Nie Huaisang too. Even argue in a lobby after getting off a freight elevator like idiots, like complete moron fools.

Jiang Cheng sighed and walked faster, his breath puffing into a cloud before him. He thought maybe he heard Nie Huaisang calling for him from the distance, but it was faint. And Jiang Cheng was tired of living for the hope of affections that weren’t really there.

He’d gone a couple of blocks – well several – and didn’t exactly know how long he’d been walking for or where he was going, when his phone started ringing. It made him jump for a moment, before he pulled it from his back pocket. It was Wei Wuxian. Of course.

He knew he had to let his brother know where he was, but he didn’t have to do it now. He pondered for a moment if he should ignore it, silence his phone, and keep going…somewhere? However, that felt pathetic. And, he had kind of ditched them, if being kicked out of a place counted as ditching. So, he begrudgingly accepted that Wei Wuxian not only had the right to call him but that Jiang Cheng should answer.

“Hello.”

“Jiang Cheng, where are you?”

“Walking?”

“Walking where? It’s December.”

“I can catch up with you after you’re done at the gallery. Whenever.”

Wei Wuxian sighed, “How about you just come back? Nie Huaisang told security you were helping him cry through his excitement over the gallery opening. I think some of them even believe him, of course, which is crazy. But he can be a good liar when he wants to be. And he wants to be to get you back here. He wants to talk to you – and he made me call you – I guess? He thinks I’m maybe, partially responsible here. Even though I don’t remember ever telling you about Xiao Xingchen... So, I don’t know…”

“You’re babbling. I told Nie Huaisang everything I meant to about wishing him well. We’re cool. It’s not that important anyway. He shouldn’t keep thinking about it. You don’t have to either.”

“Did…Jiang Cheng, did you see Nie Huaisang’s art? The pieces he has up in the gallery for opening night?”

“I don’t know if I saw much of anything aside from the refreshment table and the freight elevator. There was also kind of a hanging mobile thing made of, like, broken glass and maybe twine above the alcohol. I saw that too, was that his?”

“Just come back Jiang Cheng.”

“Wei –”

“You are the world’s biggest idiot. After all the trouble I went through, the pains I took, to get you here. I practically held your hand and you managed to fuck it up. Like completely. How? It’s like miraculous, no a reverse miracle, how tremendously you managed to fuck this up. Get your ass back here.”

Wei Wuxian hung up as if he had any right to be that pissed. Part of Jiang Cheng just wanted to piss him off more. Ignore his demands and never step foot near the gallery again. And yet, even before Wei Wuxian hung up, Jiang Cheng knew he would go back. And Wei Wuxian knew too. And they both knew the other knew too. Ugh. So, Jiang Cheng turned around and retraced his steps. It wasn’t hard, he’d mostly gone straight down the street, just kind of far. Actually, maybe he really had walked for a while.

His numb fingers ached from the chill in the air, it wasn’t properly freezing yet, but the weather seemed to threaten snowstorms to come.

The gallery was still there when he got back. Seemingly, still as full of people and activity, if not, impossibly more so. Ugh.

Wei Wuxian was waiting by the glass doors checking his phone. Probably trying to find Jiang Cheng or pretend like he was while he played Words With Friends or something stupid.

Jiang Cheng approached him and smacked his hand against the glass, “I’m here.”

Wei Wuxian blinked up at the sound, “Get in here then.”

“Move first, you’re in front of the door.”

“They push out. You have to pull them from your side to enter.”

“Yeah, I just want to make you move.”

Wei Wuxian looked like he was going to say something else, snap back at him, but then Huaisang was there in the foreground with Lan Wangji and someone else Jiang Cheng didn’t recognize. A man, tall, with dark hair. Handsome and wearing sunglasses.

Jiang Cheng decided it was better to just get inside and save his pettiness for a later time, maybe on the trip home.

“So, I’m allowed back in.”

“Barely,” Lan Wangji’s voice was expressionless but his eyes glared daggers at him. Of course they did, Lan Wangji. Ugh.

“Jiang Cheng, this is Xiao Xingchen, he’s the co-owner of the gallery, and my roommate, and my…and my good friend.”

“I’m Jiang Cheng, good to, er- meet you then.” He tried to straighten to his full height, without making it look like he was, and held out his hand.

“Likewise, its lovely to meet you after all this time. Huaisang speaks of you fondly,” he shook his hand, softly, “Do you mind if I take a look at you?”

“Ah, ok?” Jiang Cheng steeled his face to be seen, as Xiao Xingchen flipped off his sunglasses. That’s when Jiang Cheng noticed his eyes. It was subtle, his left seemed to float gently up slightly and the pupil of his right seemed rather too dilated.

“Ah, you are just as handsome as I expected. I can see young Zizhen’s face in yours.”

“Mine?” Jiang Cheng couldn’t describe how much he wanted to hear it. How much he’d always wanted to hear it, even if he hadn’t consciously known that he did before.

“Mhm,” Xiao Xingchen nodded, putting his glasses back in place. “Excuse me. The light, it bothers my eyes a bit. The surgeries.”

Xiao Xingchen made it sound like it was something Jiang Cheng would already know about, so, he nodded as if he did. Nervous about looking lost or ignorant in front of Huaisang’s boyfriend who thought Zizhen looked like him.

It was kind of weird to know that this man knew what Zizhen looked like, yet, Jiang Cheng couldn’t make himself feel as upset as he thought he should. He had assumed he wouldn’t like Huaisang’s boyfriend, and would have to battle down some mix of bitterness and anger, but…he felt numb and kind of alright. Weird.

 “Jiang Cheng,” Huaisang said, his face looked calmer now. His eyes were still glassy but the blotchiness on his face had faded. Someone must have found him tissues, “Xiao Xingchen helped me curate my pieces for the opening. We, we want to show them to you.”

“Um, ok. Sure.”

Wei Wuxian breathed out sharply through his nose, Jiang Cheng could nearly feel him rolling his eyes at his back. Lan Wangji, continuing to glare at Jiang Cheng, walked to stand by his husband. Huaisang seemed to have no reaction at all though, which was, maybe weird?

Xiao Xingchen said, softly, “This way please.” He took them to wait in line by the main elevator, which was ok. Jiang Cheng would much prefer waiting in this crowd and the gross humidity so many people made when close together than taking the freight elevator again, ever.

The three of them were silent, but there was noise all around them. He wondered vaguely if Jin Ling was sleeping well and if his baby sitter remembered to read the bedtime story about the dancing penguins.

When they arrived back in the loft space, rather then following the path Jiang Cheng had taken before through the middle to the refreshments table, Huaisang and Xiao Xingchen veered right and led him to a little door labeled, “Family & Forms.” Jiang Cheng hadn’t known if they were allowed to enter it, nothing else was labeled. Maybe the labels were still coming in and would go up after the opening? Is that how these things worked? And was Jiang Cheng supposed to know there were side rooms and that he could go in them?

Xiao Xingchen opened the door gracefully and Huaisang followed him in. So, Jiang Cheng slipped in next, unsure if he should close the door behind him or just leave it.

Then – ah. So this was what they wanted him to see.

The little room filled by a handful of people was adorned in canvases, sets of three against each wall. They were placed high enough that he could see over most of the other viewer’s heads. Immediately he made eye contact with the Nie Mingjue in a painting of his face from when he was younger than he is now. Maybe closer to what he looked like when he was still a baseball star in high school. Next to him he saw their father and Huaisang’s mother, the background was green, and all of a sudden he realized it was grass in the backyard behind the Nie’s house. A third canvas to the left showed a little boy – Huaisang! Slightly younger than he had been when they met, wearing Nie Mingjue's loose hand-me-downs and smiling a soft little grin.

Turning to the wall properly to his left he saw the city skyline and beside it a canvas full of smiling faces, a couple of which Jiang Cheng recognized as college art friends of Huaisang’s. (He had probably been introduced to most, if not all of them, during the time he helped Huaisang move out of his dorm very pregnant, but who knew now) Then a portrait of Huaisang himself at 18 years old? Maybe 19? This Huaisang had the fluffy hair he remembered, falling a centimeter or so shy of his shoulders. He was in overalls and a baggy shirt, all covered in paint, and he had streaks of it on his face and in his hair too. Green, black, and purple.

On the wall opposite that was – Jiang Cheng jerked in surprise – himself sitting with the Ouyangs, and Huaisang, and Zizhen. But the painting was focused on his face looking at Zizhen with a spoon in his mouth, and Zizhen smiling back. Besides that was a portrait of a couch, squeezed on top was Xiao Xingchen, a man Jiang Cheng didn’t know, and – Jiang Cheng realized with a start – Xue Yang. A cat was walking across their laps. This wall was completed with another portrait of Huaisang, as he is now, his hair sliding passed the tops of his shoulders, a tight-fitting jacket, but his face was half in shadow.

“Turn around,” the real Huaisang muttered next to him. And so he did, facing the wall with the door they came in from.

He was there again, as a teenager laying in Huaisang’s bed and doing homework. His chest was bare but green sheets seemed to shelter him on all sides. Next to the canvas of him studying there was one of Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng soaking wet, with Lan Wangji and Mr. Lan in the background.

“When we broke the sprinkler system,” Jiang Cheng murmured to himself.

Then a final portrait of Nie Huaisang. Except he wasn’t really there, it was his body in the hospital bed, his arms and legs and torso, mostly covered by a white sheet. Beyond his feet, as if a distance away, was Jiang Cheng holding a baby. In the picture, Jiang Cheng was crying, which was wrong. He hadn’t cried that day. He didn’t think he’d ever cried over Zizhen where Nie Huaisang could see him do so. He’d yelled about him and tried to talk rationally about his feelings which also always ended in yelling. But, was that what he had looked like to Huaisang? At least, like, figuratively? Like he was weeping over their baby while Huaisang just lied there forgotten?

“So, you can see, most of the art here is of me. Not all of the stuff I make is. Not most of it actually. Just these, for this moment,” Huaisang was saying.

“This is– This is something great, Huaisang. Uh, I think your paintings are really well done. Like, well-executed? Technically well done, you have a lot of technique? And you capture a lot of emotions, most of them I can recognize from being there, having been there, you know.”

“Right. Thanks.”

“Right…so, about the art. Do you, want to talk about it? I guess, what I think you mean with it? Or how I feel about the art or what happened in the past?”

“I do, but, not right now. Tomorrow? When do you head back tomorrow?”

“I-”

“Or we can talk over the phone, if that’s easier. No faces, haha. I think I owe you an apology, and I’m just not ready to give it right now.”

“Me? You owe me an apology?”

“We’ll talk about it later, right?”

“Yeah, um, A-Ling’s baby-sitter is staying overnight. Then Madan Jin’s driver is coming in the morning to pick him up. He’ll be with her for the weekend.” At their beach house.

“Ok, then, tomorrow. We’ll text and figure it out.”

“Yeah, ok.”

Tomorrow

Sunlight flooded the window counter they sat at, Jiang Cheng angled his stool to face Huaisang, “Why is avocado toast $14?” Jiang Cheng asked.

”Extortion, probably,” Huisang smiled, taking a bite of said toast. With a sigh he gazed at the people walking just outside the cafe, but somehow a world away beyond the glass, “I’m a bit emotionally raw. The art made me a bit more vulnerable than I realized. But, I did it, because I needed to. Originally, I had planned a series of still lifes of weird and absurd things in the city, but… I figured I was hiding a bit. When I knew you were coming, I wanted to share something real for once.”

“Ok. I can see that.”

“Also, not that it matters. But when I kind of cried at you yesterday, I thought maybe you had seen it and decided to…I don’t know. I can’t control how you respond to things. Just the overall vulnerability of this effected me, and I should have prepared better for it. So now, now you know.”

Jiang Cheng contemplated his own plate of overpriced green toast remembering Xue Yang as he was rendered in paint and canvas by Huaisang. And also Xue Yang in the flesh with his hand resting on him through his pants when Huaisang found them.

“Since you hadn’t seen it and you thought I was with someone else now, it was different than I thought.” Nie Huaisang seemed to pause for a moment, then said firmly, “You also don’t get a say in my sex life – when, where, or with who – either. That said, Xiao Xingchen isn’t really my boyfriend.”

“I kind of picked up that something wasn’t…as I expected at some point.”

“So, Xiao Xingchen and I. Well, we’re all adults. He’s not my boyfriend. I call him my boyfriend, and it’s affectionate but not literal. I pretended to be his boyfriend when Song Lan’s parent’s visited once, it was a last-minute thing to cover for... Well, that Song Lan isn’t out and he’s really Xiao Xingchen boyfriend. Except when he’s not. Anyway, calling him my boyfriend stuck. Usually we just spend time together, and paint, and mourn the state of our love lives. Xiao Xingchen, is an angel, so it’s really not fair… But, I understand what it’s like to love someone who is emotionally stunted and can’t outgrow his need for his parents’ acceptance and approval. And, how it can feel impossible to let go even when you should.”

“I feel like there were three insults in there to hide, like, one confession that you still want me.”

“They’re not an insult…it’s just life. Isn’t it? We all have walls and doubts and fears that are gifts from our families. We’re all imperfect people with our own edges…just trying not to cut at the people we really care about. I know that you’ve never actually tried to hurt me…I also know you can’t love me the way I love you.”

“I think that sounds like complete trash. You don’t know how I can love you. You’ve…you’ve never let me.”

“I had a crush on you since we were eleven years old and you stomped Wen Chao in the shin for tearing up my sketchpad. You never looked at me like that back. Until…you heard Wen Qing kissed Mian Mian, just to ‘Try it. Before university.’ Then you asked to kiss me and I accepted, even though I knew it was just practice so you'd be ready for someone else. Like I could have been anyone-.”

“But you weren’t anyone, Huaisang, you were you. I chose you. I wanted it to be with you.”

“Well, I mean, then sex happened obviously. I wasn’t sure about hormonal birth control, I was scared to ask about it, really. But the moment you looked at me like you’d never seen anyone you’d wanted more, when you were feeling me up after sophomore year… I knew I wanted you to look at me like that all the time, forever. Especially in bed.”

“Huaisang.”

“So, Zizhen was a surprise. And, I wasn’t ready and we agreed. I thought we might break up then, well we weren’t officially together, but still. The friendship could break up. It was so much. Too much. I didn’t think you’d be able to stay by me and handle it, but you did. It felt like we were a team, and then…I felt like I broke your heart. Like it all broke you. Your dreams and plans shrunk down to staying as close to our baby as possible. You were even willing to all but drop out of university and marry me, haha.”

“I meant it. I always meant it.”

Huaisang offered a small smile and sipped at his latte.

Jiang Cheng took a breath, “I meant it with you. I don’t know if I can love you as much as you want and deserve, but…for me. It’s only ever been you. If I…if I know how to love someone at all, it’s because I know how I feel about you and the baby we made.”

“Jiang Cheng.”

“I want you to know, for me, there is no one else like you. Practice or real or whatever. I’ve never even,” he flushed and looked to either side. Huaisang leaned in closer to listen as he whispered, “had sex with anyone else, successfully. I mean.”

Huaisang blinked and then shook with laughter at that, rattling the counter a bit.

“Stop, it’s not that funny! For fuck’s sake.”

“It is that funny it is, because, maybe I was wrong. Maybe you did love me, and it was my own stuff that made it so I couldn’t see it. Hm? Or not, who knows…but, if you want to-”

“I want to.”

“Then maybe it’s time that I invite you to hotpot. At my childhood home.”

“Ok.”

“And, if you want, I can ask if Zizhen can come with the Ouyangs. You can spend time with him and get to know them better.”

“That sounds really nice.”

“Good then, it’s a well...a family dinner.”