Chapter Text
When Feng Xin wakes up, Mu Qing’s not there. He isn’t that worried, to be honest. Mu Qing gets too much in his own head sometimes, he’ll be okay in a few days. Feng Xin feels like he’s too much in his own head, and goes back to sleep. When he wakes up again, Mu Qing’s back, and he’s writing something at his desk. Feng Xin looks at him. His shirt looks askew, and when Mu Qing turns in his chair to look at him, Feng Xin sees why.
“You’re awake.”
Feng Xin’s eyes zero in on the tops of Mu Qing’s collarbones. “You noticed.”
“Your breathing changed,” Mu Qing comes to sit by his side. “How’re you feeling?”
“Gay as fuck, when did you decide to start wearing your shirt half unbuttoned?” Feng Xin grazes his fingers over Mu Qing’s exposed clavicles. “Can I?”
He’s not sure what he’s asking.
“Absolutely, you can.”
He tugs Mu Qing closer by his collar and bites down on his collarbone, he feels the heat radiating off him onto Mu Qing’s cold skin. He feels as Mu Qing’s skin warms up under his mouth, he feels how Mu Qing stills under his touch and shudders when Feng Xin exhales onto his wet skin. He feels his own saliva left on Mu Qing cooling up before he can kiss him there again, and again, and he feels Mu Qing’s cold hands hold the back of his neck. He wants to bury his face in Mu Qing’s shoulder and keep doing this.
“You’re going to ravage my collarbones just because I looked somewhat slutty?”
Feng Xin snorts, muffled into Mu Qing chest. He pulls away. “When you put it like that.”
Mu Qing dares him to go on.
“I have nothing to say in my defence. I am going to ravage your collarbones because you do look slutty, with your permission, of course.”
“That was implied,” Mu Qing’s cold hand at the back of his neck shifts up to cup his cheek. He frowns. “You’re still warm.”
“Super hot, actually.”
Mu Qing looks close to slapping him, and with his hands already at his cheek, he just might. Fortunately, Mu Qing takes pity on his sick, sick boyfriend and simply rolls his eyes. “I want to get you medicine. Will you take it?”
Feng Xin raises an eyebrow, “Are you going to steal?”
Mu Qing’s hand drops. “Not much else choice, really.”
Sick people tend to go to the infirmary. No one keeps medicine in their room.
“Going to use your vampire powers to rescue me?”
Mu Qing tilts his head, “When you put it like that.”
“My knight in shining armour.”
Feng Xin makes an exaggerated show of kissing him on the cheek. Mu Qing grimaces but doesn’t say anything.
“Will you take it?”
“Probably not,” Feng Xin doesn’t like taking medicine. “I’ll live, I just need a lot of rest.”
“You should eat something,” Mu Qing knows the food has gone cold, but cold food is better than no food.
“Did I sleep through lunch?”
“Yes, it’s four pm. I’m surprised no one decided our absence is suspicious.”
“Crimson Rain must have pulled some strings,” Feng Xin’s hands absently wander up to Mu Qing’s open collars. He quite likes the view.
Mu Qing sighs, and shifts forward. “Do you like the cold?”
“It’s relieving,” Feng Xin spreads his palm over Mu Qing’s shoulder, tugging the shift off, and when it doesn’t fall off his shoulder, he unbuttons Mu Qing’s third button and smiles at him. “I kind of really like it.”
At Mu Qing’s confusion, he adds, “I’m into it.”
Mu Qing gives him a few seconds to take that back. Feng Xin doesn’t think it needs taking back.
“You’re sick. Of course you’re into the cold.” And as if his scathing tone doesn’t convey enough, he adds, “You fucking weirdo.”
Feng Xin rests his forehead on Mu Qing’s shoulder. Mu Qing’s hand shifts up to his hair, then reaches behind him to tug a part of the blanket over Feng Xin’s shoulders.
“Don’t,” Feng Xin’s hands make quick work of Mu Qing’s remaining buttons and slide around his waist. “Too hot.”
Mu Qing snorts. “Shut up,” Feng Xin replies, pushing him back with an urgency he feels is bordering on desperate. “I’m sick.”
“And desperate”
Bastard.
Feng Xin all but smothers his face in his boyfriend’s chest. He’s starting to think the illness is getting to his head. Mu Qing lifts his head by sliding his index finger under Feng Xin’s forehead, and adjusts himself to be comfortable. He slides his finger away and Feng Xin flops down on him.
“That’s hot,” Feng Xin tells him.
“You like being manhandled?”
Before Feng Xin can respond, Mu Qing casually flips Feng Xin to his back and straddles him. He’s looking down at him, hair falling over his forehead, eyes wide and mocking. It’s a great look on him.
“Yes,” Feng Xin breathes. Then catches himself. “No, wait. Not manhandled —”
Mu Qing runs a cold hand up his sternum. Feng Xin’s both glad and concerned that he’s shirtless. He doesn’t get to finish his sentence. Mu Qing looks amused now, and Feng Xin wonders if he looks pathetic under him, silenced by a touch.
He doesn’t hate the idea of that.
“You were saying?” Mu Qing lifts his hand in favour of tracing his fingertips along Feng Xin’s collarbones, lightly, then tracing up his neck.
“It’s not like I like being manhandled,” Feng Xin knows he doesn’t sound convinced, even to himself. Mu Qing’s not looking at his eyes, his fingers are following the curve of Feng Xin’s ear, then down his jaw. “It’s more like—”
Mu Qing places his index finger on Feng Xin’s bottom lip, then replaces it with his thumb. Feng Xin lets his mouth fall open, slightly.
“Bottom.”
He puts his fingers in Feng Xin’s mouth. He’s so cold. Feng Xin pushes his tongue between Mu Qing’s index and middle finger, and Mu Qing faintly shudders above him. Feng Xin, overcome with confidence, grabs Mu Qing’s elbow and tugs him closer, lower. “And what about it?”
Mu Qing panics, he can sense it. Satisfied, Feng Xin pushes him away. “You were saying?”
Mu Qing makes a few expressions in too few seconds, then rolls his eyes and slides off Feng Xin. “Your breath stinks.”
“Fuck off.”
~~
Mu Qing does get him to eat something, by dinner. Mu Qing has also been cajoling him into just going to the infirmary or taking medicine, but Feng Xin’s sure it’ll pass by tomorrow. He does feel better enough to sit up and eat by himself, so he’s sure he’ll be better enough to sleep through only a few classes tomorrow.
Crimson Rain and Xie Lian came to eat with them, which was sweet, if not slightly awkward because of Mu Qing. Feng Xin had been very happily drinking down three bowls of soup with copious amounts of today’s potato side dish when Mu Qing made a snide comment about Crimson Rain’s habit of always touching Xie Lian in some way, and it was actually pretty funny and Feng Xin did snort into his bowl and have a mild coughing fit, but then Crimson Rain replied with something along the lines of “well at least we’re not as honeymoon as you guys” and Feng Xin was going to make a bad joke about the every fortnight sheet burning ritual (haha full moon get it) when, well. Mu Qing just went very still and didn’t say anything.
Everything was awkward after that. Xie Lian did elbow Crimson Rain in the stomach to dissipate the tension, which helped slightly, but Feng Xin was hung up on what Mu Qing didn’t say, and continued not to say even after Crimson Rain and Xie Lian left.
Mu Qing put their dishes away and then disappeared to the bathroom before Feng Xin could ask him anything. It is a waiting game now.
Mu Qing steps out of the bathroom with a change of clothes for Feng Xin, which is sweet. He seems less stressed than he did earlier.
“Want to tell me what that was about?”
“Meaning?”
Mu Qing wants to play dumb today, it seems. Feng Xin wonders if this will end in a fight, too.
“Do you want to fight first? Or should we skip to talking?”
It comes out harsher than Feng Xin intends, and there’s a pained silence before Mu Qing glares and him and sits down on his bed. He holds his hands out and Feng Xin instinctively places his hands on his. Then Mu Qing yanks him forward, with seemingly minimal exertion, hot, and says, “I’m going to wipe you with a wet towel because you’re gross,” and waits for a response.
“Okay,” Feng Xin’s slightly confused.
Then Mu Qing lets go of his hands to tug at his t-shirt, and Feng Xin understands. He lets Mu Qing take his top off. He disappears to the bathroom then, because it seems he forgot to bring the wet towel in the first place, and he looks even more upset when he’s back. He doesn’t hurt Feng Xin, though. He’s gentle with his manhandling, rather, handling of Feng Xin. It’s easier because Feng Xin is being very pliant, he’s enjoying and hating this at the same time.
“So we’re not doing the fighting—”
“I don’t understand,” Mu Qing stops him, with an icy glare to accompany his icy tone, and Feng Xin shudders. Mu Qing drops the glare and tone to pull the blanket around Feng Xin’s bare shoulders.
“I’m fine,” Feng Xin snaps, and Mu Qing dejectedly settles the blanket around him. Great, now they’re both on edge. He sees why they fought so much, this is hard. Feng Xin doesn’t want to be angry right now. He will try not to be angry right now.
“Sorry,” he mutters, shrugging the blanket off. “You don’t understand?”
Mu Qing gives him a complicated look and Feng Xin wishes he were easier to understand. He silently goes back to wiping Feng Xin’s arms, then thinks for a second and pulls Feng Xin to his chest. He’s confused, again, but he doesn’t mind. Mu Qing touches the cold, cold towel to Feng Xin’s skin and he hisses, Mu Qing apologises under his breath and continues.
“I don’t understand what we are,” he says, eventually. Feng Xin wants to push him back and look at his face, but he doesn’t. Mu Qing seems to get this, because he rubs the towel on the back of Feng Xin’s neck then lets him go. He looks at him and asks, “What are we?”
Is this what has been bothering him?
Feng Xin wants to be annoyed but now that he thinks about it, it’s a fair concern. “Boyfriends?” he ventures, but that sounds unsure even to him.
Mu Qing deflates.
“No, no we are boyfriends, you know that.” Feng Xin adds, “We know that.”
“No, it’s,” Mu Qing makes a vague gesture which Feng Xin chalks as confusion. “I know we’re boyfriends, but what does that mean?”
Hey, Feng Xin knows this one. “It means we’re friends but we’re gross and make out about it.”
Mu Qing makes a face at him, which again Feng Xin can’t decipher, but there are hints of bewilderment and exasperation.
“I’m not wrong.”
“You’re not,” Mu Qing agrees. He thinks over something in his head and Feng Xin doesn’t like that.
“Talk to me.”
“I just,” Mu Qing slumps forward onto his shoulder. “I’m getting stressed about the future.”
As if Mu Qing feels Feng Xin still at this, he says, “You don’t stress about it too, then we’ll both be useless.”
“Okay, okay,” Feng Xin drums his fingers on Mu Qing’s back. “I don’t want to be stressed about it, I don’t want you to be stressed about it.”
“That’s not the only thing,” Mu Qing whines, and Feng Xin’s so endeared by that. “I get so overwhelmed when I think about this and I hate it.”
“Think about the future?”
“Kind of,” Mu Qing lifts his forehead to hit it against Feng Xin. “Also just you.”
Feng Xin’s kind of put out by that. “Why?”
“Because,” Mu Qing starts, then takes a minute. “I don’t know. It seems so complicated.”
“That’s because you literally make everything complicated,” Feng Xin holds Mu Qing’s shoulders and pushes him back to look at his face. He looks so tired.
“Mu Qing. We’re literally friends who are gross and make out. I don’t think leaning into our romantic tendencies instead of suppressing them has changed all that much about us.”
“I fucking hate when you’re right,” Mu Qing looks like he’s still processing what Feng Xin said, but he gets it. He knows what Feng Xin means, even if his brain takes some time to catch up with it.
“If you really want to think about it, I don’t think we were ever friends.”
“I don’t want to think about it,” Mu Qing whines again, and Feng Xin can’t help but smile. “That’s literally my whole point.”
“Unfortunately,” Feng Xin whines back, “That’s the only way to fix it.”
Mu Qing looks at him like he’s suspicious. “When did you get so smart?”
Feng Xin throws a pillow at him.
“No, seriously,” Mu Qing picks the towel back up and hands Feng Xin a t-shirt, before nudging the blanket enough to wipe down Feng Xin’s knees.
“I am not taking that like the compliment you think it is,” Feng Xin doesn’t put on his t-shirt.
“You’re right,” Mu Qing says, ignoring him. “That’s actually true. You’re right.”
Feng Xin wants to push him off the bed. Then maybe make out with him on the floor.
“So?” he asks, after letting Mu Qing have some time in his own head. “Will you think about it?”
“More like,” Mu Qing hands him his pyjamas and leaves to the bathroom, probably to drop the towel and Feng Xin’s dirty clothes. “I need to think about it in a particular way,” His voice becomes distant, Feng Xin assumes he’s throwing them directly into the laundry basket instead of leaving them on the counter. “Rather than think about it, generally.”
“And,” Mu Qing returns, “It really is not that complicated. This is the way things are. This is the way we are. That’s all.”
“Hey, now,” Feng Xin impatiently waits for him to sit down. “That’s what I said. You just said it better.”
“I made sense of it, you didn’t know what you were talking about.”
Okay, fuck that, Mu Qing can sleep somewhere else tonight.
“Don’t get annoyed, you still came up with it,” Mu Qing finally sits down, and Feng Xin tugs him closer. Maybe he can sleep here. He’s on thin ice.
“I feel better,” he tells him. “I mean it.”
“I know,” and Mu Qing is definitely sleeping here tonight. He pats the top of Feng Xin’s head. Feng Xin feels himself blush, god.
“If you want to kiss me, you need to brush your teeth.”
Feng Xin is quite dizzy after standing up for the first time in a few hours. Mu Qing will catch him if he falls.
~~
Feng Xin wakes up on the other side of the bed, sweating. He’d pushed off the blanket and Mu Qing at some point, and it looks like it’s still night. His head hurts, so he gets up and switches on the fan, and goes back to sleep. The second time he wakes up, it’s less night than it was earlier. His headache’s also less. It might be time for him to take some medicine.
He considers waking Mu Qing up. He wouldn’t mind. Feng Xin rolls over and stares. Mu Qing sleeps somewhat elegantly, at least to Feng Xin. His face is blank and pale, beautiful in its simplicity or something like that. He looks nice. Feng Xin flicks his forehead. Mu Qing takes a few seconds to wake up, then a few more seconds to open his eyes. He blinks at Feng Xin. He opens his mouth, mumbles something, and blinks again. “What’s up?”
Oh, Mu Qing sounds nice like this.
“Maybe time to get some medicine.”
Mu Qing nods, eyes closing. Feng Xin taps his shoulder. Mu Qing blinks awake. “Now?”
“Yes. Bad, bad headache.”
Mu Qing stretches, hitting Feng Xin in the face. “I’m sleepy as fuck, love.”
The voice, Feng Xin’s going to lose it.
“How bad is it?” Mu Qing says, into the pillow.
“Pretty bad,” Feng Xin whispers.
“Okay,” Mu Qing rubs a hand over his face, “okay,” he sits up.
He turns to Feng Xin, eyes half shut, and nods. “I’ll be right back.”
He stumbles on his way out.
Feng Xin is going to scream. Good fucking god.
Mu Qing is attractive, he’s known that, but he’s never been this… alluring? Whatever it was, it was not good for Feng Xin. He’d really like it if Mu Qing would talk to him like that in that voice half asleep and whining which is not to say he doesn’t like it when Mu Qing is all calm and composed and cold, that’s great too, just, something about him being comfortable enough to ask things of Feng Xin is great. He loves doing random things. He wishes Mu Qing asked more often.
Actually, he kind of wants Mu Qing to beg him. He’s not sure how, or what for, but if Mu Qing was to look at him with his sleepy eyes and sleepy voice and breathlessly say “please” Feng Xin would combust, happily. It’ll be the best day of his life. He wants that so, so badly.
Feng Xin cannot sit still. He needs to do something, except when he tries to sit up his head pushes him back down. It hurts, and he’s dizzy, and he curls in on himself. Fuck, he should have taken the medicine earlier. Can’t even fantasise about his boyfriend in peace, what is the point of sending him off on a midnight adventure for medical supplies if he can’t kiss him when he gets back?
Feng Xin tries counting the seconds to pass the time. He stops around three minutes and tries to sit up again, and it’s easier this time. Okay, Feng Xin is going to brush his teeth. He needs to do something. He can brave this headache.
And he does, until a shooting pain erupts behind his eyes and Feng Xin grips the side of the sink, toothbrush in his mouth, waiting for it to pass. He’s going to finish brushing and get back into bed. And switch off the fan, it’s getting cold.
He’s slow, but he manages, and now all he needs to do is wait for Mu Qing. Okay, Feng Xin wraps the blanket around himself and sits, patiently.
He falls asleep. He feels Mu Qing’s cold hands laying him down and wrapping the blanket around him properly. He feels fingers pushing hair away from his forehead and the dip of the bed beside him. He’s too tired to say anything.
~~
Feng Xin wakes up again, and he hates that he hasn’t slept properly in a few days. Mu Qing is awake, beside him, but he isn’t panicked so Feng Xin assumes they’re not late.
He drifts in and out of wakefulness until he’s more awake than asleep. Mu Qing hands him a glass of water and medicine before he can say anything. Feng Xin takes it.
“I sure hope that was paracetamol.”
“It was,” Mu Qing’s morning voice is not entirely lost, but its essence is.
“How did you get it?”
“Well,” Mu Qing takes the half empty glass from him and pushes him back to lie down, “someone sent me off in the middle of the night to steal from the infirmary.”
“And?”
“Alright. I got caught. I wasn’t being that inconspicuous, anyway. I told them what was happening and they just let me have the medicine.”
Feng Xin’s taken aback. “That’s new.”
Mu Qing shrugs, “they said we’re old enough to handle ourselves.”
“Huh,” Feng Xin burrows close to Mu Qing, putting his head near his coolness. “That’s true.”
“The things I do for you.”
Feng Xin snorts. “I was staying up waiting for you to come back. I even brushed my teeth.”
He feels Mu Qing raise his eyebrows. “Why? Wanted to do something in particular?”
“Absolutely I did. Someone took way too long to come back.”
Mu Qing doesn’t say anything.
“I braved a terrible headache for it. The things I do for you.”
“Yes, yes,” Mu Qing slides down, opening his arms for Feng Xin, who only really wants to sleep next to him. “We have maybe another fifty minutes, let’s sleep as much as we can.”
~~
Feng Xin is starting to hate waking up. He’s feeling better, but all he really wants to do is sleep, and apparently since they don’t need to go to the infirmary anymore, Feng Xin will do exactly that.
Mu Qing, however, is going to class. When he gets ready in the morning, Feng Xin is too sleepy to pay attention to him for more than thirty seconds at a stretch. Mu Qing is gracious enough to shake him awake to give him a kiss before disappearing for the whole day, and Feng Xin sucks on his bottom lip before he can pull away from the kiss, and Mu Qing muffles a sound of surprise against his mouth, but then he’s gone, and he pouts at Mu Qing.
“Get better,” Mu Qing replies. “Make sure you eat, ask one of the kids to get food up for you.”
“Can you tell one of them to do it for me?”
“... fine.”
Feng Xin gives him a dazzling smile. “See you.”
It’s going to be a strange day. Feng Xin goes back to sleep.
~~
Feng Xin is so utterly bored. The only amusing incident today has been meeting Pei Su, the unfortunate junior who had to bring him food. Feng Xin was awake, staring at the wall, when there was a timid knock on his door. No one ever knocks on their door. He yelled for them to come in.
Slowly, as if the door was too reluctant, Pei Su stepped into the room, tray of food in hand. He stared at him.
“You can put that down,” Feng Xin gestures to his side table. Pei Su takes a few seconds to comprehend this, then another few to follow through. Feng Xin is amused.
“Um,” he shuffles on his feet, looking around their room. It’s bare, apart from Mu Qing’s night clothes strewn across one of the chairs.
“Yes?”
“Your, um,” Pei Su darts his eyes to him, then looks away, to the floor. “Your boy-boyfriend wanted me to tell you something?”
Feng Xin is having an absolute field day.
“Is that so?”
Pei Su panics, ready to deny anything given Feng Xin’s tone, then stops, because yes, it is so.
“He,” Pei Su makes a pleading face at Feng Xin, who minutely nods. “He wants you to eat well and sleep well and recover by tomorrow.” Pei Su says in a rush.
Feng Xin feels warm, but not induced by sickness. He controls his smile.
“He, also, um, said to, um,” Pei Su’s face contracts into a painful expression, followed by a painful sigh. “He said to look forward to the evening,” he adds, again in a rush. He looks at Feng Xin, and the food, and runs out of the room, closing the door behind him.
Feng Xin snorts. How lovely, Mu Qing is truly terrorising these kids. He supports it. Feng Xin decides that yes, he will eat well, and he might sleep well, and of course, he will look forward to the evening.
But he’s so bored. Evening is so far away, and Feng Xin does not want to take another nap.
Feng Xin ends up taking another nap. He remembers to take his medicine, but he needs to eat to do that, so he reluctantly gets out of bed to brush his teeth, and while he’s at it he might as well take a shower. Bad idea. Feng Xin’s exhausted, clean, but exhausted, and he’s contemplating going to sleep in his towel saying fuck it to the medicine. He’s too tired to dig through his drawers and find clean clothes.
Feng Xin realises he can just take Mu Qing’s clean clothes. Not his underwear, that’s gross, Feng Xin will make the effort to find his own clean underwear. Motivated, he stands, only to fall back on the bed. He’s so dizzy. He’s starting to doubt this is just a fever.
Slowly, Feng Xin stands. His head spins, but he’s being brave about it. First, to his own drawers, then Mu Qing’s. It’s a chore to exert himself this much, but at least he can rest comfortably. Mu Qing’s clothes are tighter on his shoulders. He likes that. Mu Qing will also probably like that. Feng Xin burrows himself in the bed sheet, and realises that he needs to eat, and that the sheets need to be changed. Badly.
He forces himself to eat. It’s cold and sad and tastes bland, but Feng Xin’s been so brave already, this one hurdle will not stop him. He will definitely finish the soup. At least Pei Su brought forks and spoons, unlike Mu Qing. Feng Xin is suddenly misses him so intensely that his chest hurts. This is not a regular fever. He shouldn’t feel like this. He doesn’t want to feel like this.
Feng Xin takes his medicine, finishes the water in their room, and tries to sleep. He can’t stop thinking about how he felt when he thought of Mu Qing. Is he really that … dear to Feng Xin? That missing him physically hurts? That’s too much. Feng Xin knows that’s too much, and while he has no problem admitting how much he loves Mu Qing, it’s never felt like this. Of course Mu Qing’s anxious. This is so fucking weird.
The minutes tick by, and Feng Xin knows it’s lunch time. He hopes, fervently, that Mu Qing will come see him, only if to resolve the knot over his heart. Feng Xin feels like he’s yearning for Mu Qing, despite very much being in a relationship with him, which all over feels pathetic and weirdly satisfying.
Mu Qing does come, god bless. He’s concerned, and immediately finds the empty water bottle, then immediately leaves to get Feng Xin water. He doesn’t want that. He wants him to sit next to him and talk about his day and complain about how boring it is without Feng Xin there — he wants his full attention.
Mu Qing brings him water and once again looks for things he can do, then Feng Xin grabs his wrist and weakly tugs at it. Mu Qing sits, and looks at him, finally.
“You showered.”
Feng Xin sits up straighter. “I did.”
Mu Qing’s hand absently reaches to Feng Xin’s sleeve, slightly stretched over his muscles. “That’s mine.”
Feng Xin locks his eyes onto Mu Qing’s wandering ones. “That’s yours,” he agrees.
Mu Qing meets his eyes, Feng Xin sees understanding. Mu Qing doesn’t need to hesitate before moving closer to kiss Feng Xin, but he does, so Feng Xin’s the one reaching forward to meet his mouth, and Mu Qing’s so cold. Feng Xin almost breaks the kiss.
Mu Qing’s hands trail up his arms and cross behind his back. He kisses Feng Xin gently and briefly, then holds him in place as he looks at him.
“Have you eaten?”
“Yes,” Feng Xin nudges his head under Mu Qing’s chin, burying his face in his shirt. He smells good.
“Took medicine?”
“Yup.”
“Did you sleep well?”
“And I ate well, and I’m looking forward to the evening.”
Feng Xin feels Mu Qing’s smile. “I see you met Pei Su.”
“I sure did. You’re terrorising them, love.”
Feng Xin also feels Mu Qing still. It takes a minute for his brain to catch up with his mouth.
“I missed you,” he says, into Mu Qing’s chest. “It hurt.”
“Hurt?”
Feng Xin pulls away to look at him. Mu Qing’s arms are still around him, Feng Xin’s depending on it. “Chest hurt.”
Mu Qing looks concerned more than anything, Feng Xin hopes there’s some reciprocation there. “Should I take you to the infirmary?”
“Mu Qing,” Feng Xin looks at him, seriously, but he’s also feeling sluggish. “Missing you is not a sickness.”
“And I’m the dramatic one,” he pushes Feng Xin’s hair back. His eyes search for something Feng Xin hopes he finds. Mu Qing kisses his forehead then his lips, and guides Feng Xin’s head back to his chest. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours. Don’t lose your mind over it.”
“Fuck off,” Feng Xin holds on to him.
When Mu Qing tries to stand, Feng Xin doesn’t let him. He feels him melt, Mu Qing’s cold hands find the back of his neck and stay there. It feels good.
“I need to eat before class,” Mu Qing’s other hand combs through his hair, detangling it, and Feng Xin needs to wash his hair too, great. Reluctantly, he lets him go. He gets another kiss on the forehead and Mu Qing pushes him to lie down, then pulls the blanket around him. He doesn’t want Mu Qing to give him this warmth when all he wants is the cold.
~~
Eventually, Feng Xin feels okay enough to walk around the room. He even considers going looking for Mu Qing. This is so down bad. Feng Xin doesn’t like it. He’s contemplating the severity of his affections when Mu Qing returns, Xie Lian and Crimson Rain behind him.
“We heard you’re properly sick,” Xie Lian starts.
“Sick in love,” Crimson Rain finishes. Xie Lian shoots him a fond look. Feng Xin shoots him a disgusted one.
“I didn’t say anything,” Mu Qing says, and Feng Xin wasn’t thinking he did, but now he is.
“Whole party’s here,” Feng Xin says instead. “Plotting something?”
Mu Qing sits on Feng Xin’s bed (or was it Mu Qing’s?) and gives Crimson Rain a pointed glare. He turns to Feng Xin.
“Our friend here,” he glares again, “Is convinced that he knows why you’re sick, and what’s going to happen to you.”
Feng Xin frowns. That can’t be right. “Doctor in the making, Crimson Rain?”
He takes this as a cue to proudly present the source of his diagnosis, a book. Feng Xin’s slightly more puzzled now. Xie Lian gives Hua Cheng an encouraging nod.
Crimson Rain opens the book and reads, “Curse of Fang Xie. An intermediate malady that occurs frequently between transitioning from bloodletter to vampire, a lesser known condition of transitioning. Characterised primarily by fever and distinct metallic flavour to blood, but only between two moon cycles.”
Crimson Rain looks from Mu Qing to Feng Xin, nervous. Feng Xin thinks he’s afraid of crossing a line by once again insinuating that one of them is a vampire. Crimson Rain would be right to think that. Nonetheless, he bravely carries on.
“Diagnosis can be confirmed with wounds burning in sunlight. If contracted on the first day of a moon cycle, the malady’s manifestation can be reversed before the last day of the same moon cycle. Since the time between moon cycles is needed for diagnosis, often the malady is left untreated. Within six moons of the second moon cycle, the transition should be complete.”
Feng Xin looks over to Mu Qing. He sees confusion and amusement, but Mu Qing’s not doing a very good job of hiding the fear underneath.
“To reverse the manifestation, the blood of the inflicted must be purified by infusing vital essence. Procedures are unclear due to lack of recorded prevention of the Curse of Fang Xie. The author would urge any inflicted, who attempt the reversal of the manifestation, to observe astutely their procedure and record results. For the interest of future bloodletters, all attempts must be publicised and evaluated.”
Crimson Rain slides the book shut.
Mu Qing opens his mouth and closes it. Feng Xin doesn’t know what to say either.
Xie Lian speaks, “So. We were concerned.” At no response, he adds, “Because,” he vaguely gestures at Crimson Rain and the book, “Yeah. That’ll be bad. I think. No offence, Mu Qing.”
“None taken.”
“Right.”
Feng Xin’s taken aback. “Where,” he clears his throat, “Where did you get that book?”
“The library.” Crimson Rain proudly replies.
“This one’s reading now, is he?”
All heads turn to Mu Qing, who’s cast his eyes to the floor in determination.
“You don’t need to be so rude about it,” Crimson Rain replies, before Xie Lian can.
“You’re insinuating,” Mu Qing looks up, and it’s clear than he will be seething soon, “that I turned Feng Xin into a vampire?”
Crimson Rain takes a step back. Whoops. “No, I was just trying to figure out why he was sick —”
“And it’s because he’s a bloodletter, because I’m a vampire? That is what you’re saying.”
There’s a defiant tone to Crimson Rain’s words when he says, “That’s what the book says.”
“Give me the book,” Feng Xin interrupts. Crimson Rain hands it to him.
Mythical Maladies: A Beginner’s Handbook, it reads. It’s a maroon hardcover, with no inscriptions apart from the title. There is no publishing address nor date on the first page. There is a tear at the bottom of the page, where the author’s name is.
“Bai Wuxiang.”
Feng Xin makes a face at Crimson Rain. “You’re listening to a person named Bai Wuxiang?”
Mu Qing snorts. “Bai Wuxiang.”
“Am I missing something? Do you guys know a Bai Wuxiang?”
Feng Xin is absolutely certain they do not. “You wouldn’t know, Crimson Rain. Leave it.”
“Yeah,” Mu Qing leans over to take the book from Feng Xin. “Don’t worry about it.”
Mu Qing flips to the end of the book. “There’s no sources, or acknowledgements.” He sounds calmer. Feng Xin thinks he’s trying to convince himself of something. “All it says is, ‘hope there is no second edition’. What a joke.”
“Classic Bai Wuxiang.” Feng Xin adds. Mu Qing agrees with him.
“Well,” Xie Lian takes the book from Mu Qing. “That’s a relief, then.”
Crimson Rain stands in the middle of the room, looking lost. Xie Lian makes him sit down. It’s amusing, really. Of course this isn’t true. This is some random book Crimson Rain found in the library, and it’s fiction. Probably. It does make sense, though.
“I think we should still test it.”
Mu Qing restarts his pre-seething. “No one is inflicting a wound on Feng Xin just to see if it burns in the sunlight.”
“You do it.” Crimson Rain says. Shameless.
Honestly, Feng Xin doesn’t mind. It’ll mean he can rule out this anxiety-inducing fake illness. He supports Crimson Rain’s idea, for once.
“Why not?” Feng Xin sits straighter in bed, then tugs at Mu Qing’s wrists. “We can just open the window and see. Bite me.”
“I refuse. I’m not doing that.” Yet, Mu Qing does not remove his hold on his wrists.
“But I’m asking you,” Feng Xin tries. He yanks Mu Qing’s hands, and Mu Qing leans into him. He feels Crimson Rain and Xie Lian’s eyes dart between them in a synchronised manner. “I want you to do this. Let me prove the book wrong.”
Mu Qing doesn’t say anything. “Are you scared?” He tenses, Feng Xin guides Mu Qing’s head to rest on his shoulder. He’s so cold. “You’re scared of a book Crimson Rain found?” Crimson Rain glares at him. Feng Xin continues, “You’re scared some fucker named Bai Wuxiang is right?”
“Bai Wuxiang,” Mu Qing’s resolve crumbles. “How right can Bai Wuxiang be?”
“Okay,” Mu Qing lifts his head, new-found conviction in his eyes. “Let’s get this over with.”
Feng Xin takes his shirt off. He’s suddenly very aware of Xie Lian and Crimson Rain.
“Don’t say anything,” he looks at Crimson Rain. “I’ll kill you with my bare hands.”
Crimson Rain nods, very intrigued. This is their true out-gaying moment.
Mu Qing hesitates. “Are you sure?”
“Mu Qing. I have never been unsure about being bitten by you.”
Mu Qing all but shoves him. “And I’m the dramatic one?”
Feng Xin gives him a dazzling smile. Mu Qing’s eyes dart to his mouth then back to his eyes. He sighs, fond, Feng Xin can tell, and holds Feng Xin’s hands.
“Don’t moan, this time,” he warns, then he bites him.
Feng Xin does not moan. Mu Qing withdraws, mouth bloody, and Feng Xin wants to kiss him so bad. He keeps looking at Mu Qing’s mouth, his teeth, the blood rolling down to his chin and his stained lips. He’s so pretty.
Feng Xin’s distracted by Xie Lian drawing the curtains and opening their window. Mu Qing closes his mouth. There is blood dripping from Feng Xin’s shoulder. He does not want to bleed out. It is not Sunday.
Mu Qing holds his hands and leads him to the window. There is sun too bright for this time of year, like it was waiting for Feng Xin’s test. He flinches from the light in his eyes. Mu Qing’s hands wrap around his elbows. “What's wrong?”
“Bright light,” he blinks into focus. “Too bright.”
He realises how his words are misleading. “I’m just surprised, don’t worry. I don’t feel any burning.”
He angles his shoulder under the rays of the sun. Warmth, lots of it, but no heat. Feng Xin’s relieved. “I’m okay,” he turns to tell Crimson Rain and Xie Lian. They’re already looking back at him. Xie Lian deflates.
“Can I close your wound now?”
Mu Qing’s right behind him. He pulls Feng Xin to his chest and says into his neck, “Is that okay?”
“Yeah,” Feng Xin shudders, not from Mu Qing’s cold breath.
“Don’t moan,” Mu Qing kisses his wound before easing it shut. There’s still blood on Feng Xin’s chest. Mu Qing turns him around to clear that mess, and Feng Xin is so embarrassed but so turned on, and Xie Lian and Crimson Rain are still here, fucking hell.
Feng Xin doesn’t know if they’re looking. He watches Mu Qing’s pretty mouth lick blood from his skin and tries not to combust when he starts kissing his neck instead.
The window’s open. Anyone could see them. Xie Lian and Crimson Rain are still here.
Mu Qing drops a last kiss to his jaw and grins at him. He wipes a trail of blood from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. Feng Xin needs to centre himself.
Xie Lian clears his throat.
He’s looking at the floor, mildly horrified, while Crimson Rain states out the window like it’s his life’s mission.
“I think I’m good,” he tells them. “Just gonna,” Feng Xin awkwardly wanders back to the bed, and sits. “Yeah.”
There’s silence. Mu Qing looks at him, thoroughly amused.
“So, you’re, um,” Crimson Rain looks at him, with some effort. “You’re not turning into a vampire. Congratulations.”
“I told you Bai Wuxiang’s full of shit.”
“Yeah. I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Good.”
Feng Xin feels strangely giddy, having made Crimson Rain and Xie Lian flustered by displays of affection. They’ve succeeded at out-gaying them.
Mu Qing, somehow, senses this, and winks at Feng Xin. He’s never done that before. Feng Xin’s not sure if it suits him.
“Well, that’s the end of that. You guys don’t need to worry about Feng Xin.”
Xie Lian brightens. “I’m glad. You’ll be okay in a few days.”
“And then I can be late for breakfast with you losers.”
“Back to normal. Breakfast has been weird with you missing and Mu Qing mooning over you.”
Feng Xin raises his eyebrows.
“I don’t moon over Feng Xin —”
Crimson Rain snorts at that. That’s confirmation enough for Feng Xin.
“Aw, did you miss me?”
“Shut up, why would I miss you? You’re so annoying.”
“You miss how I annoy you at breakfast?”
“Why would I miss that. It’s annoying.”
“But it’s me,” Feng Xin tries, and he sees Mu Qing soften slightly before glaring again.
“All the more reason to not miss it.”
“That’s not true.”
“It is.”
“It’s not.”
“It —”
“Guys.”
Crimson Rain interrupts them. He turns to Feng Xin, who sits back and looks at him. Mu Qing does the same. It's like Crimson Rain broke some invisible string that was dragging Mu Qing and Feng Xin gradually closer.
He looks at him seriously, Feng Xin notes. The last time Crimson Rain looked serious, he threw a hammer at Feng Xin, if he remembers correctly. Naturally, Feng Xin does not see it as a good sign.
“What would, hypothetically, qualify as vital essence?”
Mu Qing rolls his eyes. “It doesn’t matter.” He turns back to Feng Xin, clearly ready to resume their sexual-tension-inducing banter.
“No, just, out of curiosity,” Crimson Rain commands Mu Qing’s full attention, who glares momentarily. “What contains vital essence?”
Xie Lian smirks, like he knows something they don’t. He pointedly keeps his mouth shut. Curious.
“I don’t know,” Mu Qing joins Feng Xin on the bed, sitting to face Crimson Rain. Feng Xin can feel how drawn Mu Qing is to him. Maybe he should put on a shirt. “Anything that gives energy, I guess.”
“Technically, blood gives you energy, because your vital essence is depleted because you’re dead. That makes blood a carrier of vital essence, though. Not exactly a source.”
Feng Xin narrows his eyes. Where is Crimson Rain going with this inductive reasoning approach?
“Then I’d say, anything that provides life? Like a seed?”
Ah. Feng Xin sees. Crimson Rain is a twelve-year old.
“Seed?” Crimson Rain makes a face of mock intrigue. “Like?”
“I don’t know,” Mu Qing rises to the bait, unaware. “Like, you know, plants, or—” He stops himself. “Oh, fuck off.”
Crimson Rain fully cackles at him, while Xie Lian holds his laughter in. Feng Xin tries to do the same, but when Mu Qing looks at him, genuinely annoyed, he laughs with Crimson Rain. Mu Qing hits him on the back of his head.
~~
Later, after Xie Lian and Crimson Rain stay for dinner and catch Feng Xin up on miscellaneous gossip he didn’t know he needed catching up on, Feng Xin lies in bed, feeling much better.
Mu Qing’s in the bathroom, taking a shower. Feng Xin thinks about what he was feeling earlier.
It’s uneasy, he has to admit. He doesn’t like feeling so overwhelmed with Mu Qing, but it’s comforting to know that Mu Qing feels the same. Besides, he doesn’t need to worry about this now. He can worry about it when it’s actually a concern. His concerns, for now and the foreseeable future, are recovering from illness and getting passing grades. He can do that.
Mu Qing emerges, looking fresh and tired. “Still want to sleep next to a freezer?”
“For now, yes,” Feng Xin replies. Mu Qing climbs into bed next to him and slides his arm under Feng Xin. Feng Xin’s hands settle under Mu Qing’s clothes, the warmth of his palms cooling on Mu Qing’s skin.
“Goodnight,” Mu Qing tells him.
“Goodnight,” Feng Xin replies.