Work Text:
1:
Two days into his friendship with Shen Jiu, Liu Qingge learns that he has a twin. He’s not surprised, per se, because Shen Jiu always looks like he’s going to turn to the side and ask a question to some invisible person, and this mysterious twin fits in that spot quite easily.
What he’s not looking forward to is meeting this twin.
Shen Jiu isn’t his ‘friend’, but since he’s the elder and lives next door and Liu Qingge’s parents are on a business trip this week, he’s been forced to stay at the Shen house for the week, while Liu Mingyan is at her Young Pioneers camp. Shen Jiu is bossy and snappy and ill-tempered and sometimes Liu Qingge wonders which one of them is the elder here. Shen Jiu is hissy and mean and Liu Qingge dislikes him, but -
He can’t disappoint his parents now, can he?
So he pouts when Shen Jiu insists on introducing him to his twin, and thinks that this twin must be a carbon copy of Shen Jiu because that’s what all twins are like, right?
But no, Shen Jiu drags him up to the room that they share and disappears inside for a moment. Liu Qingge hears books falling on the floor and shouts of protests and one thwacking noise before Shen Jiu storms outside, looking quite worse for the wear.
A shorter boy with glasses trails behind him, one hand clutching Shen Jiu’s white shirt.
The other holds a thick book.
Shen Jiu scoffs. “This is my twin, A-Yuan.”
“I’m Shen Yuan.” He says, bowing towards Liu Qingge. There’s an air of formality and grace around him that no 10-year-old should rightfully possess. “A pleasure to meet you.”
Against his better interests, Liu Qingge is intrigued. Mainly by the book that he’s carrying, that’s what he tells himself, not how distracting the light on Shen Yuan’s glasses was or the endearing softness of his cheeks. No, it’s because that’s a really big book - it’s The Two Towers, he recognizes it.
“N-nice to meet you too. I’m Liu Qingge.” He coughs and sticks out his hand.
Shen Yuan takes it, shakes it, and that is when a small smile breaks across his alabaster face.
“You know Tolkien, too? You recognize the book, right?”
"Yes, but - uh - wait -”
“Somebody else who likes it! Jiu-gege won’t read it because he thinks books are boring but you know he’s wrong, right?”
Shen Jiu glares at his twin. Liu Qingge will never admit that Shen Yuan’s sudden enthusiasm is adorable, like the distant, refined manner had been cracked and a sunbeam shone from behind his mask.
“...Yes.”
Shen Yuan cheers and lets go of his twin’s shirt to clasp Liu Qingge’s hands in his own. They’re warm. The book drops onto the floor and Shen Jiu snaps for Shen Yuan to be less careless but Shen Yuan pays him no mind.
Liu Qingge is struck with the sudden urge to run away, but his body is frozen from Shen Yuan’s touch, and he thinks distantly that he’s been proven wrong.
Shen Yuan is nothing like Shen Jiu, and he can’t figure out whether he’s happy or terrified because - two Shen Jius are something he wouldn’t even try to deal with, but on the flip side Shen Yuan is bright, so bright framed by the light streaming through hallway, warm (his hands, too warm, his cheeks, too warm) and Liu Qingge is not prepared for this.
“Come on, come on, let’s go talk about books away from Jiu-gege, I’m sure he doesn’t want to be part of our boring book talk!” Shen Yuan grins at Shen Jiu over his shoulder before dragging Liu Qingge into his room and locking the door.
Shen Yuan tells Liu Qingge to ignore the way Shen Jiu howls for them to open up and threatens to break their arms, his older brother will get over it, in a few minutes he’ll go and watch TV anyways, and he’s right. Shen Yuan makes him lie on the carpet with him and practically shoves a well-worn copy of another fantasy novel in his hands.
Shen Yuan meets him face-on with a brilliant smile and his soft, wise intelligent words and his badly-concealed enthusiasm.
Liu Qingge, still against his better interests, is intrigued by Shen Jiu’s twin, and though a part of his mind tells him that it is a bad idea to let Shen Yuan scoot closer to him, until their shoulders bump, he ignores it. He tells that part of his mind that it’s just so that he can better read from the book Shen Yuan’s holding.
Not because Shen Yuan’s quiet, mellow voice is like the night sparrow’s song, singing on a tree branch outside the window of his room. Not because the sun catches on Shen Yuan’s hair and the other boy has the smallest, softest smile as he flips a page and his fingers skim over the pages.
But then Shen Yuan’s finger pauses at the end of the page, his voice trailing off, and he glances at Liu Qingge.
“So… what do you think of the story, Liu Qingge?”
Liu Qingge blinks, and that moment where all his words had failed him ends. “It - it was good. You read good.”
You read good? Really, Liu Qingge? Great going, he probably thinks you’re no fun now.
(Liu Qingge, still against his better interests, cares whether Shen Yuan thinks he’s fun. Which is… disturbing, to say the least, because the only things he should be caring about are his family, his karate, and his studying. Stop this nonsense, focus!)
“Ah, you liked it? That’s good!” Shen Yuan says - whispers, more so, they’re close enough that the slightest breath from Shen Yuan tickles his earlobe.
Shen Yuan is staring at the page. Liu Qingge is not.
And Shen Yuan turns to meet his eyes, enthusiasm shining in his pupils, and Liu Qingge’s throat constricts.
He is pretty, Liu Qingge thinks, and a moment later - what?
Shen Yuan is nice, and a lot more silver-tongued than any boy his age should be, and smart - quick - determined - and so, so, pretty. For the first time, Liu Qingge’s breath is taken away not by exhaustion after training or gym class or running a mile, but by a person.
By Shen Yuan, who is staring at him with a frown, who is closing his book and reaching out to poke Liu Qingge’s cheek, who is grinning at him now with a secretive quirk to his mouth.
“Liu Qingge, what are you thinking?”
He’s thinking about nothing, nothing at all. He’s thinking of all the books he’d read in the past, and how they’d sound read aloud in Shen Yuan’s voice. He’s thinking about dragons and palaces and swords, woven in golden thread and silver mist in the Shen twins’ room as Shen Yuan read.
(He’s thinking about Shen Yuan.)
“Nothing!”
Shen Yuan giggles. “But you have a weird expression.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You were staring into space!”
“Was not.”
Liu Qingge glares at Shen Yuan. All his indignation disappears when Shen Yuan levels a mischievous smile at him.
He leans forward, fingers running up the book spine.
Liu Qingge doesn’t move. He can’t. He wonders what breathing properly is like. Does his body remember how to do that?
“Hey, asshole nerds, open up!! I need to get something!” Shen Jiu yells.
Shen Yuan sighs and rolls away from Liu Qingge, and air rushes back into his lungs when Shen Yuan stands up. Time moves on. Liu Qingge learns how to breathe again.
“Mama said not to curse.” Shen Yuan scolds.
“Well, mama’s not here.”
“That doesn’t mean you can curse.”
There is a strange buzzing in Liu Qingge’s mind, rushing through his body, electricity sparking when his eyes land on how Shen Yuan’s short hair curls at the nape of his neck. He wants to run, wants to fight, wants to punch something because this new, creeping feeling is completely unwelcome and needs to stop.
Liu Qingge does not have time for this. He doesn’t have time to watch Shen Yuan argue with Shen Jiu. He doesn’t have time to waste on whispering about Tolkien.
(But gods, does he want to, and that scares him.)
“Liu Qingge!” Shen Yuan says. “Tell Jiu-gege that books aren’t stupid!”
“Well, Tolkien is! I can’t understand it!”
“Just because you can’t understand it, doesn’t mean it’s stupid! You’re stupid!”
Shen Jiu leans against the doorframe. “Mean!”
“Jiu-gege is mean!”
Liu Qingge is struck by the overwhelming urge to laugh. Which is not something he does for people who aren’t Liu Mingyan. But he’s watching the Shen twins argue like he and Liu Mingyan never do, and the sunlight casts a monochrome sheen over the walls of the room, and there’s something so endearing about the way Shen Yuan pouts.
He pushes that laugh down, deep down.
In the end, after Shen Yuan begs him to show him the impressive collection of old comics Liu Qingge’s mother has, they escape to the Liu house for the rest of the day.
Liu Qingge learns that Shen Yuan loves Spiderman but hates Batman, that he’s drawn a few comics himself but won’t show Liu Qingge, that he loves all things green or related to fans and sleeping.
(“They aren’t even in the same universe!” He argues. “And I’m sure your comics are - are good!”
“But imagine if they were in the same universe!” Shen Yuan fires back. “And my comics - well, maybe if you think so, then I’ll show you.”)
He goes to sleep that night in the Shen house guest room not thinking of Shen Yuan’s smile as he read of elves firing arrows upon a fictional advancing army. Not thinking of how he’d leaned forward and started to whisper something and he’d thought, maybe this is a secret we both share, just the two of us, and he’d nearly smiled too.
2:
Shen Yuan makes good on his promise to show Liu Qingge his comics. When summer break ends and Liu Mingyan comes back from her camp and everything seems halfway normal, Shen Yuan comes calling in his school uniform after the first day of school.
Liu Qingge’s parents are charmed by him. Liu Mingyan takes one look and becomes instant friends with him. Liu Qingge drags him up to his room, wondering why he feels so irritated.
“So, the comics?”
“Give me a minute! I’m - uh, getting ready to show them to you, it’s a bit scary…”
“Why?” Liu Qingge can’t understand if this is any different than him demonstrating karate.
“Well, Jiu-gege said they weren’t good - and nevermind that, it’s just - private! But I trust you.”
He’ll fight Shen Jiu. He already wanted to, of course, Shen Jiu is just the type of person that makes you want to challenge him to a duel, but this makes Liu Qingge’s blood boil.
Why?
Liu Mingyan says that fighting doesn’t solve anything, but what else is Liu Qingge going to do? Talk? He doesn’t know how to use his words. With words come emotions and Liu Qingge doesn’t know how to do that either.
“Here.” Shen Yuan says. He hands a stapled stack of papers to Liu Qingge from the green folder in his backpack, and Liu Qingge is struck by how… colorful the cover illustration is.
Not that it’s bad. It’s very creative, he thinks that Shen Yuan is, more than anything, brave for drawing without any restraint. Liu Qingge could never think to do such a thing.
But maybe Shen Yuan could do to use less bold splashes of neon red and blue, and more of his favorite mellow green.
The story itself is easy to follow and the characters even easier to cheer for. Liu Qingge finds himself absorbed in how the main character talks, how he smiles and fights and how, even with how rudimentary Shen Yuan’s art could be considered, the character designs are different.
When he hands the comic back to Shen Yuan, it’s with a newfound admiration for people who can create things. Liu Qingge can not do any of the things that Shen Yuan does - talk well, smile pretty, weave his words and create an entire world with his fingers and his voice.
“So, what did you think?” Shen Yuan asks. He’s hiding behind the comic, holding the papers up to his face like a mask, and Liu Qingge wonders whether he’s aware that he’s doing that.
It makes him look like a rabbit, a sparrow, a nervous bird fluttering his wings and hiding in his nest.
Cute.
Liu Qingge bites his lip and attempts to punch his own brain, because what else is he going to do? Think about Shen Yuan? No, no, that is not going to happen.
“It was good. You draw good. I mean! The story is - good.” He finishes lamely.
Shen Yuan laughs. “Is ‘good’ your favorite word?”
“No!”
“Ah, well, I’m glad to hear that anyways! Though, I thought you read a lot of books? Do you know any synonyms for ‘good’?” Shen Yuan flops on his bed without asking. Liu Qingge lets him.
“Of course I know them!” He sputters.
“Then give me some.” Shen Yuan rolls on his back and blinks lazily up at Liu Qingge. If he had an ivory fan in his hand and longer hair, spilling on the white sheets, he’d look like the spitting image of a spirit, a gust of wind embodied, a demigod.
Liu Qingge sighs. “Wonderful. Brilliant. Fantastic. Um, lovely.
You.
“See? There you go, you can do it too if you try, Liu-didi!”
“Liu-didi? You - I - Shen Yuan!”
Shen Yuan pouts and lets the comic rest on top of his chest. His fingers twitch, fiddling with the blankets. “Ah, was that too familiar?
Too familiar! Too soon! He screeches. Liu-didi is - is -! This is not how Liu Qingge had expected it to go. ‘Liu-didi’ is appropriate, sure, given that he is the younger in this situation, but it makes his ribs clench around his heart and his hand want to reach out and stall Shen Yuan’s idle fiddling.
“N-no. It’s fine. Good.”
“See, there’s that word again…” Shen Yuan sighs. He’s pretending to be disappointed. Liu Qingge wonders just when he started to be able to tell when Shen Yuan is pretending and when he is not. It’s been three weeks since they met and he’s spent nearly every day of their summer break with Shen Yuan and, oh, he’d thought that he would hate spending time away from practicing karate, but -
But, strangely enough, terrifyingly enough -
He doesn’t mind. It infuriates him. Who is Shen Yuan, really, to stroll into his life with a book and a pretty smile and turn his routine upside down? Who is Shen Yuan to be so - so - good?
(He wonders if he could also be the type of good Shen Yuan is. Probably not. He wants to. Liu Qingge is not kind and warm and secretly helpful like Shen Yuan. He knows this.)
“Oh! I know! Wanna watch me draw a panel of a character you like?” Shen Yuan is already digging through his backpack for a spare piece of paper and a pencil.
Liu Qingge situates himself on the floor and crosses his arms. “You don’t need to.”
“If it’s for you, it’s fine!” Shen Yuan says.
"What’s that supposed to mean?”
Shen Yuan’s glasses catch on the light when he hops off the bed and moves over to the desk, clearing off Liu Qingge’s well-organized notebooks and study supplies to make room for his skinny arms and the paper. “Exactly what it means. So, who did you like the most?”
“...the guy who fought a lot.” At Shen Yuan’s quizzical look, he clarifies, “the one in white, with the magic sword.”
“He has a name.”
“Forgot it!” He snaps. It’s hot in here today, even though he swears he turned the AC on. The familiar buzzing underneath his skin is back again, spiking every time Shen Yuan looks at him.
“Aw, that’s no good.” But Shen Yuan turns back to his sketching, and Liu Qingge having nothing better to do ( homework, he thinks, studying, preparing snack for Mingyan when she comes back from school) , he moves over to hover behind Shen Yuan.
The pencil skims over the paper, lines and lines of curves and slowly forming images and Liu Qingge is already amazed, because anybody who has the ability to create things like that has his admiration. Especially Shen Yuan.
After a minute, Liu Qingge leans too close and Shen Yuan squeaks when his chest bumps against his shoulder and the pencil jerks on the page. The character in white now has a scar over his eye. Liu Qingge thinks it looks cooler that way.
“Liu-didi, please have patience, I’m almost done.”
Shen Yuan doesn’t erase the scar, but his pencil swirls and creates the character from thin air, from nothingness, from the corridors of his mind. Humming fills the air as Shen Yuan works, and Liu Qingge adds yet another item to his list of things that Shen Yuan does when he isn’t focused.
Not that he has such a list, of course. It’s just a random observation. Of course.
A few minutes later, Shen Yuan puts his pencil down, stretches, and hands the paper to Liu Qingge.
“You can keep this.” He whispers. “But don’t tell Jiu-gege, he’ll want me to draw something for him too, and I don’t wanna draw something for him.”
Liu Qingge is too busy staring at the drawing to answer Shen Yuan. It’s not wonderful by any extent, nothing like the polished and dynamic sketches he sees in the old comic books. It’s obviously drawn by a child barely older than 10 and yet it is good.
There are words within him that beg to be heard and none of them are said. He doesn’t know if he can say anything, right now, even though Shen Yuan is looking at him with expectant eyes and fidgeting fingers.
There are words within him that he can only think, and Liu Qingge can’t weave them into a story, he can’t sketch them out with quick hands, but Shen Yuan can, and that is what steals his breath. He wonders how any one person can hold so much inspiration in their mind. He wonders what makes Shen Yuan so special.
(To shatter my routine like this, to smile like that, to make me so helpless.)
“Liu Qingge? Liu-didi?”
“What?” He snaps.
“Did you like it?” Shen Yuan says. He pauses, and elaborates, eyes darting back and forth between Liu Qingge and the corner of his bed. “Um, will you tell anybody? About - the, the drawing? It’s special!”
He’s oddly insistent, oddly worried, and Liu Qingge’s throat seizes. Against the noise of his heart throbbing against his ribs, he registers himself saying a sharp “yes”, nodding, sighing in relief as Shen Yuan relaxes.
“Good! This is our secret, okay?”
“Our… secret. Yeah. Okay. Okay. ” He chokes out.
There’s something exclusive about a secret for the two of them. Something not even Shen Jiu knows. Liu Qingge likes it, maybe a little too much.
This is unfair. Unjustified. Why should Shen Yuan be so breathtaking? Why is this happening? Why is Shen Yuan smiling at him like the world has ground to a stop and he’s the only one moving against the monochrome background?
Liu Qingge’s chest feels too tight for his blooming heart. His fingers tremble on the sketch and he tries not to crumple it in his hands, no, it is far too precious for him to do such a thing. No, no, no, Shen Yuan can’t do this to me, I’ll fight him for making me feel this way -
He looks up at Shen Yuan.
Back at the paper.
The white-clothed character, caught in action and brandishing his sword, seems to waver in the early autumn sunlight.
“Our secret.” He repeats.
Shen Yuan nods eagerly.
A day later, the paper drawing of a graceful cultivator in white hangs above Liu Qingge’s bed.
3.
The years come and go. Liu Qingge fears that Shen Yuan won’t go to the same middle school as him, but they all find each other at the opening ceremony - him and Shen Jiu, looking scarily alike in their uniforms, talking with Senior Yue.
They sit next to each other at the opening ceremony, and when the highest scorer’s opening speech drags on for 15 minutes longer than any middle school speech has the right to be, Shen Yuan nudges him with his shoulder and rolls his eyes. A small, minute gesture that doesn’t go unnoticed by Shen Jiu.
Liu Qingge, against all his instincts that are telling him to shut up and listen and be a good, rule-abiding student, nudges back and smirks.
The way Shen Yuan lights up after seeing Liu Qingge’s reaction is worth it, he thinks.
They’re 14, stumbling outside the gymnasium after the ceremony and the introductions, blinking in the sudden sunlight, and Liu Qingge is a little bit in love with Shen Yuan.
A little bit. Maybe more than a little bit. Maybe a lot, maybe - probably - completely in love.
Which is a problem, because Liu Qingge doesn’t do love. He loves his parents, his sister, his pet bird. He loves karate and training and reading books about dragons underneath his covers at 11 PM, when the house is quiet.
Shen Yuan is the problem here. Shen Yuan is good and benevolent and kind, Shen Yuan is like the first flash of lightning in a storm and the cherry petal that falls from the tree and drifts into your waiting hand. Shen Yuan is lazy, contradictory, mercurial and flighty, his thoughts race too fast for his own good, and his elegant veneer doesn’t fool Liu Qingge anymore.
Shen Yuan is the problem here. How can Liu Qingge avoid looking at him? How can Liu Qingge not fall in love?
“Oh, let’s go check our classes!” Ning Yingying suggests. She’s one of Shen Jiu’s cousins, moved back to the city the summer after Liu Qingge met Shen Yuan (and if he’s started keeping track of time by measuring how long it’s been since he’s met Shen Yuan, he’s not telling anybody).
Shen Jiu hoists his schoolbag over his shoulder and follows Ning Yingying to the board where the class rosters are pinned.
Liu Qingge holds his breath. He and Shen Yuan are tall enough to stand behind the mass of students trying to catch a glimpse of their placements.
They’re in the same class, as always. Him and Shen Yuan.
It’s a relief, as always. He gets to sit a desk behind Shen Yuan and watch how Shen Yuan moved, tapped his fingers against the desk, how he is a graceful figure poised against the static air of the classroom.
It’s a trouble, as always, because now Liu Qingge can’t focus on his classes, his pen makes nonsensical strokes on the notebook paper and more often than not he finds Shen Yuan’s name scribbled in the margins. It’s a trouble and a blessing, as always, because he has an instant partner for class projects and more time to stare at Shen Yuan and lament the fact that he fell in love far too quickly.
But Shen Yuan is smart and willing to help Liu Qingge learn what he missed, and that is how Liu Qingge passes half his tests for the next two years.
The day they enter high school is when Shen Yuan leaves him, standing in the middle of the stone pathway as students mill around him. The day they enter high school is when Liu Qingge is suddenly and tragically betrayed and left alone, for the first time in 6 years, wondering what is so important.
“Ah.” Liu Qingge mutters. He blinks, once, twice. Shen Yuan’s slim figure disappears into the crowd. A stray cherry petal comes to rest on his schoolbag, and he flicks it off. “What?”
Shen Jiu snorts. “Go check your class placement, idiot.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“You’re an idiot, though, a pining idiot.”
“No, you.” Liu Qingge snaps, for lack of a better response. Shen Yuan would be burying his head in his hands if he heard Liu Qingge speak so briskly, but - Shen Yuan isn’t here, Liu Qingge realizes, and the world tilts on its axis once again.
Shen Yuan isn’t here. Right. Liu Qingge can do this, he’s fine without Shen Yuan. It’s just that, maybe just a little bit, he is lonely, and there’s a ridiculous thought if he’s ever heard one.
“Are you serious, Liu-didi? I hate people, why would I be pining? ”
His schoolbag bumps against his hip when he turns and marches towards the boards where they’ve posted the class placements, ignoring how Shen Jiu gives him a smirk and a peace sign.
Don’t call me that, only Shen Yuan gets to call me that.
The Liu Mingyan inside his head devolves into peals of laughter at that.
It turns out that he doesn’t have to ask Shen Yuan about it, though, because the very next day he shows up at the Liu household with a young boy wearing their old middle school uniform in tow.
“Hello, Shen Yuan. My parents aren’t home right now, did you need something from them?”
“No, Jiu-gege is hanging out with his friends right now -” Shen Yuan shakes his head, like the idea of Shen Jiu having friends is a ridiculous one, “So I’m coming over to your house, thank you very much.”
Liu Qingge sighs, but holds the door open for Shen Yuan and the boy. His hair is fluffy and uncombed, his eyes following Shen Yuan everywhere he goes, and Liu Qingge presses the start button on the mechanical teapot harder than he needs to.
“Oh, yes, Liu-didi, this is Luo Binghe! I’ll be tutoring him for the next year. Binghe, meet Liu Qingge.”
Luo Binghe shuffles into the kitchen with his too-big house slippers and peers up at Liu Qingge. “Nice to meet you,” he says, in his tiny voice.
The kid’s hands are clenched in the bottom of his shirt, his backpack forcing him to hunch over, his lip red from being bitten. Fuck. Liu Qingge can’t not like him, because this Luo Binghe who looks at Shen Yuan with such admiration is also a Luo Binghe who is small and obviously in need of acceptance and definitely not somebody Liu Qingge can ever be mad at.
So he pours the boiling water into three separate cups and asks Luo Binghe what type of tea he’d like. When Luo Binghe hesitates, looks to Shen Yuan (who nods encouragingly), and asks if they have apple juice instead, Liu Qingge sighs and points to the fridge.
“Thank you, Liu-xiong!” He chirps.
Shen Yuan calls him over and pulls out math workbooks, gesturing for Luo Binghe to sit next to him. Luo Binghe’s eyes light up at that and he bounces over to the table eagerly. Too eagerly for Liu Qingge’s tastes.
Stop this, Liu Qingge. Jealousy is unbecoming. Luo Binghe is his student and nothing more.
He downs his tea in three goes, not caring how it scorches his mouth. Shen Yuan gives him a look over the table, when he isn’t busy teaching Luo Binghe how to divide polynomials.
Liu Qingge raises his eyebrows.
Shen Yuan shakes his head minutely and goes back to his tutoring.
The bitterness clenching around Liu Qingge’s heart retreats, just for that moment, just for them alone.
While Shen Yuan is drilling into Luo Binghe what seems like a month’s worth of algebra in two hours, Liu Qingge writes his essay for ancient Chinese literature and studies ten pages of his political history textbook before he feels a headache coming on. Usually Shen Yuan helps him through memorizing the names and the important key phrases.
Usually Shen Yuan doesn’t take tutoring offers. Since when did Shen Yuan take pupils? He has an ocean’s worth of intelligence behind his glass-grey eyes, and he rarely shares it with people who aren’t Shen Jiu, Liu Qingge, and Ning Yingying.
Who is Luo Binghe to take Shen Yuan like this? What right does he have?
But Shen Yuan is not somebody to be taken, no, Shen Yuan willingly gives, so much that Liu Qingge worries constantly, and Liu Qingge’s fingers tighten on the thin pages of his textbook.
He has no right to be jealous, either.
After all, isn’t he simply just a pining fool who is struck by jealousy as easily as Hou Yi struck down the nine suns?
Liu Qingge has no right whatsoever to even love Shen Yuan.
“Shizun, what does this mean?”
“I told you not to call me that…” Shen Yuan sighs. He taps the problem in question with the eraser end of his pencil. “Well, when you encounter an exponent division problem like this, you have to remember that when you move the denominator to the top, if the variables are the same then you minus the second exponent from the first. See, like this - yeah!”
“Oh, I see! Thanks, shizun!” Luo Binghe attacks the next problem with overflowing confidence.
Shen Yuan is watching him with soft eyes, one elbow leaning on the table. His hand pats Luo Binghe’s head, slender fingers ruffling the hair even more, and Liu Qingge swears he sees Luo Binghe lean into the touch. When Luo Binghe solves another problem, Shen Yuan gets an unbearably smug smile on his face, one that never fails to make Liu Qingge want to tackle him to the ground.
“Good job, Binghe! Let’s stop here, I don’t want to bother Liu-didi, he has to do his own studying, after all.”
I’m never bothered by you. Stay with me, I want you here. “It’s fine. You can stay.”
“Ah, no, I’m sure we’ve overstayed our welcome! Binghe, I’ll walk you to the station.”
Liu Qingge wants to reach out and grab Shen Yuan’s wrist. Liu Qingge wants to tell him to stay (right now, forever). Liu Qingge wants to say all the words that he’s been thinking, half of which are I love you, I want you by my side, if you would have me.
Liu Qingge watches Shen Yuan walk towards Luo Binghe waiting at the door with a smile.
There’s the hint of a true smile on Shen Yuan’s face as he ruffles Luo Binghe’s hair once more and hoists his schoolbag onto his shoulder. And just like that, there’s another person who Shen Yuan lets his unconscious mask down for. And just like that, Liu Qingge’s breath slides from his lungs, all of his willpower drained from him, all of his existence dictated by Shen Yuan’s smile.
Just like that. Smile at me.
The wooden door closes behind Shen Yuan and Luo Binghe. The knocker clangs once on the door before all is silent.
“...Stay safe, Shen Yuan.” Liu Qingge murmurs. The page he’s clenching between his fingers crinkles.
4:
The day before their high school graduation, Shen Jiu invites them to a party that one of his friends is hosting.
Specifically, him, Shen Yuan. Him and Shen Yuan turns into him and Shen Yuan and Mu Qingfang, which turns into him and Shen Yuan and Mu Qingfang and Luo Binghe, who seems to be tagging along on each and every one of their outings these days.
Even their bubble tea Tuesdays. Especially their bubble tea Tuesdays, which had been him and Shen Yuan recommending a new book every week for the longest time he can remember.
Liu Qingge knows Shen Yuan’s order by heart - taro, with pudding and grass jelly, 75% sugar. He knows Shen Yuan likes the snacks they offer and that he gets that wide-eyed, lightning-fast warmth spark in his eyes the moment he takes a sip of his tea.
And Luo Binghe knows them too.
He’s not even Shen Yuan’s pupil anymore. Luo Binghe is one of the best students in his grade, somehow brilliant at math and more than competent at literature at the same time, and this is undoubtedly due to Shen Yuan’s tutoring.
He still calls Shen Yuan ‘shizun’. He still follows him around the school, popping up out of nowhere when they’re having lunch together and trying to be on the same team in gym class no matter what. He still manages to elicit a response from Liu Qingge every time he flops all over Shen Yuan.
“Liu-didi! Liu-didi, look at this! It’s a beer.” Shen Yuan sidles up to his side with a cheap can of beer straight from the icebox.
"Yes, I am aware of that.”
“Do you want one? There’s more where it came from!” Shen Yuan hiccups.
“No. You’re drunk. I have to drive us home now.”
The beer can bumps against his bare arm and Liu Qingge jolts. Shen Yuan giggles. “I just turned 18, I can’t be drunk!”
“Being 18 doesn’t mean you can’t be drunk. Anyways, you can drink now… and I can’t believe the first time you drink you turn into… this mess.”
“I am not a mess.” Shen Yuan pokes him in the nose and the frothing liquid in the beer can spills over. “You’re so mean, Liu-didi.”
Liu Qingge blinks to clear the stars crowding in the edges of his vision. When Shen Yuan moves ever so slightly closer, his bangs spilling onto Liu Qingge’s white t-shirt, his mouth goes as dry as Shen Yuan’s beer. The thrumming of his heart in his ears is louder than the bass-boosted song in the background and the whoops.
“Shen Yuan.” He says helplessly.
“That’s me! What do you need from me, Liu-didi? A drawing, a speech…” Shen Yuan throws his arm around Liu Qingge’s shoulder, ignoring his yelp of protest. “Some tutoring?”
“Shen Yuan, please.” He can’t do this. This is not his thing, and now Shen Yuan’s head is nuzzled up against the underside of his jaw, and now Shen Yuan is grinning to himself and looking completely at him in his arms.
(This is not his thing, but everything he’s wished for. Shen Yuan is drunk. He’s not himself. This means nothing.)
“Yes?”
“Let me go!”
“No, Liu-didi is warm!” Those eyes peer up at him, reflecting the dimmed lights of the house, glass flickering prismatic. “Come on, let me stay, please?”
There’s a spark of something low in his stomach at Shen Yuan’s cajoling tone. Hitting him in the chest dead center, when Shen Yuan’s hand slides down to bump against his rough knuckles. Liu Qingge gasps when Shen Yuan presses himself up against his side.
“I - I - Shen Yuan -”
“Oh! Look, people are dancing, let’s go dance too!” Shen Yuan flits off to the middle of the living room, dragging Liu Qingge behind him. He can’t focus on anything but Shen Yuan’s fingers circling his wrist and the way his skin burned when Shen Yuan pulled him close. He can’t break away.
He’s helpless when it comes to Shen Yuan. When has he not been?
That’s a question he doesn’t want to know the answer to, so he fixates his gaze on the couples making out on the couch and walls, and futilely tries to convince Shen Yuan to turn back.
Shen Yuan spins him around once they’re surrounded by moving bodies and flashing lights, and bows towards him just like he’s asking for a formal dance at a ball. Liu Qingge, against his better interests, takes his hand and smiles.
Maybe he can do this. If Shen Yuan is so close with him like this - asking for a dance, smiling at him - maybe he can hope.
“See? This isn’t so bad, is it?” Shen Yuan whispers.
“...No, I suppose it isn’t.”
“Liu-didi, prepare yourself!”
“Wha - ah!” Liu Qingge feels his muscles strain when Shen Yuan lunges forward, one hand braced against his lower back, and dips him. Shen Yuan’s nose bumps against his in this position.
His fingers tremble in Shen Yuan’s hand. Please…
Shen Yuan leans in closer and Liu Qingge resists the urge to let his eyes flutter shut. “Binghe let me do this once, so if you’re asking where I got so good at this, that’s why!”
Why is it always him?
“I see.”
“Aren’t you going to ask me if you’re a better partner than him?”
Liu Qingge stops in the middle of the living room and wrenches his hand out of Shen Yuan’s grasp, only to let it clutch at the bottom of his jacket. “No.”
I already know. Stop driving it in.
I already know! Why won’t you look at me?
“Don’t be so stiff, let’s dance!” Somehow, Shen Yuan has found another beer, and he takes a long sip before bending over and coughing.
“You can’t dance like this!” Liu Qingge snaps. He takes Shen Yuan’s beer and slams it on a nearby table. “Let’s go. You’re drunk.”
“Not that drunk. Maybe a little. A bit more than a little? There’s gotta be a word for that… moderately?” Shen Yuan whines when Liu Qingge tugs him off the dance floor and into a quieter hallway.
“Be quiet and sober up.”
"Everything is round, though, and it’s funny!” The hand that was holding Liu Qingge’s comes up to pat at his face. “Even your face! It looks like Binghe’s now, haha!”
“Don’t compare me to him!” Liu Qingge snaps, twisting away from Shen Yuan.
Shen Yuan’s hand withdraws.
“Sorry.” He says. “I’m sorry. I - I just - he’s not me. I’m not him.”
(He does not apologize for missing Shen Yuan’s warmth. He does not apologize for not being Luo Binghe, and neither does he say that he wants to be Luo Binghe.)
When he turns back, Shen Yuan is standing on his toes, so that his forehead bumps against Liu Qingge. He’s close. Close enough that Liu Qingge can feel his breaths ghosting against his cheeks.
“Ah?” Shen Yuan whispers. He tilts his head just so, and Liu Qingge swears he sees Shen Yuan’s eyes roving over his lips.
Liu Qingge swallows. “You…”
He can say nothing more, because then there is one warm hand curling at the back of his neck, alcohol-drenched lips crashing against his, and he knows nothing more.
Does Shen Yuan know? That Liu Qingge himself knows nothing but the gentle slide of Shen Yuan’s lips against his (kind, giving all his warmth, oh-so-sweet), nothing but their heartbeats pounding in time and nothing but the dizzying heat of Shen Yuan’s mouth?
Does Shen Yuan know, what he’s doing right now? Tilting his head, so that their teeth clack together once before he tilts even more and the tips of their tongues touch? Probing deeper, deeper, every brush of their tongues sending arcs of lightning-hot electricity down Liu Qingge’s spine?
“Shen Yuan!” He gasps, when his legs buckle and Shen Yuan’s teeth catch on his lip. It’s not - no - this is good, feels good, feels right, feels like watching the meteor shower in the middle of August on Shen Yuan’s rooftop and his pinkie linked with Shen Yuan’s, feels like summer rewinding and sweet taro black tea and the end of it all.
He should pull away.
He should shove Shen Yuan away, because he’s drunk, Liu Qingge is drunk on his taste, and he’s one kiss away from snapping.
Shen Yuan is the one who pulls away first. His eyes are glazed over with the daze of drunkenness and his lips are a satisfying bitten-scarlet-red.
He leans in closer again. Those distracting lips part, as if he’s going to kiss Liu Qingge again.
Shen Yuan smells like instant shoyu ramen and bamboo shoots. It should worry Liu Qingge, that the love of his life eats instant ramen enough that it’s become his scent, but it’s endearing. It’s sweet.
“Binghe…?” He whispers.
Liu Qingge flinches. The alcohol taste of Shen Yuan’s mouth vanishes.
“You -”
Shen Yuan’s eyes slide closed, and he slumps in Liu Qingge’s embrace. He’s asleep. Unaware and open.
One way or another, they make it to the car. Liu Qingge stomps through the crowds of people, carrying Shen Yuan over his shoulder. It’s cold outside. Liu Qingge’s skin feels warm wherever Shen Yuan’s soft breaths touch it, and he knows he doesn’t have the right to be so close to Shen Yuan.
It’s not him.
When has it ever been?
Shen Yuan shifts in the car seat, murmuring in his sleep, and Liu Qingge brushes his fingers over his cheek before starting the car. His lips are still buzzing with the memory of their kiss.
“Shen Yuan…” I love you, look at me, kiss me again. “What does he have that I don’t?”
5:
He doesn’t know the answer.
It’s been two years, two years of waiting for the first sign of Shen Yuan falling in love with Luo Binghe, two years of studying and silently walking by Shen Yuan’s side. He’d thought that when they made it to university, Luo Binghe would give up on Shen Yuan, but no.
Luo Binghe does not do such things like give up. Liu Qingge wonders if those two words are even in Luo Binghe’s vocabulary. Luo Binghe graduates and enters the same university as them, and enters the same drama club as them, and somehow, someway, gains the leading role opposite of Shen Yuan in their stage production.
(Luo Binghe grows taller than the both of them, and he likes to rest his cheek on top of Shen Yuan’s head. It irks Liu Qingge more than he likes to admit.)
It’s not that Liu Qingge didn’t try, not that he didn’t train his voice and his dancing and his acting, not that he didn’t try to get Shen Yuan to look at him, finally.
No, it’s that Luo Binghe is better. It is that Luo Binghe has always been better, has always been the one that everybody looks to, the one Shen Yuan chooses to go to.
These days, Shen Yuan seems to be spending all his time with Luo Binghe, studying at the coffee shop five minutes away from their dorms or practicing their lines in the empty theater. Liu Qingge falls asleep to an empty dorm room and wakes up to Shen Yuan in the bed above him humming one of the songs. Luo Binghe seems to be waiting outside their dorm room every day.
And now he’s watching from the wings with a mic strapped to his head and a clipboard with the lighting directions in his hand.
Luo Binghe stands onstage, backlit by white lights and singing of his current predicament, and when Shen Yuan steps onto the stage and glides over to Luo Binghe, Liu Qingge motions for them to follow the cues and switch it to mellow pink lighting.
If only it wasn’t a love song. If only this wasn’t a comedy play. If only Liu Qingge was standing there instead of Luo Binghe. If only -
As the music piping over the speakers swells, Luo Binghe grabs Shen Yuan by the waist and dips him back. Shen Yuan shines on the stage, though Liu Qingge never thought he would enjoy performing like this, and every flourish of his fingers strikes a new chord in Liu QIngge’s heart.
“Cue 20, now.” He whispers into the mic. He’s choosing to ignore how Shen Yuan looks up at Luo Binghe with such life that he would think that they were the only two people in the theater, dancing alone to the violins.
He’s choosing to ignore everything - Shen Yuan’s hands sliding on Luo Binghe’s arms and his breathless, silent laugh. How they shift and dance on the stage, two figures moving like the currents of a river flowing against each other.
This means nothing. They’re just performing. That’s all there is to it, there’s nothing to the way Shen Yuan grins up at Luo Binghe, nothing to the way Luo Binghe looks so much more bright when Shen Yuan closes his eyes and takes a trust fall into his arm. This means nothing.
Liu Qingge tears his eyes away from the happy couple, finishing their dance, and motions for the next cue.
This means nothing.
(It means everything, because Shen Yuan has never been ‘just’, he’s always throwing himself into the worlds he creates and the songs he sings, and Liu Qingge knows this. He knows this.)
When they take their final bows, he sees Shen Yuan looking up at Luo Binghe, the makeup shining on their faces, holding the bouquet together. Luo Binghe’s arm is around his waist. Shen Yuan is leaning into him. They bow once more, before the curtain slides closed and Luo Binghe picks Shen Yuan up in a hug.
And Shen Yuan lets him.
He’s brilliant like this, in Luo Binghe’s arms, lifted a meter into the air and still in his green costume and jade hairpins.
Liu Qingge accepts one of the understudy’s invitation to the afterparty without thinking. He needs a reason to get away from whatever this is.
Afterwards (but there are no afterwards with Shen Yuan, there is only a before and an always, because once you know Shen Yuan there is no forgetting him) he wishes he hadn’t.
Or, he wishes that he had been a minute later to the party, that he had accepted the beer they offered him, that he had done anything but stand up and call out to Shen Yuan and feel the words shatter to pieces in his mouth, glass and hail cutting into his tongue and windpipe.
That he had done anything but look their way and see Luo Binghe’s arm still around Shen Yuan’s waist. Luo Binghe resting his cheek on top of Shen Yuan’s head like he does at the end of every rehearsal. Shen Yuan laughing at something somebody said. Leaning in, tipping his head up, closer, closer -
Shen Yuan kissing Luo Binghe.
The kiss is quick, looking back on it. Not more than two seconds. Two seconds of the 10 years they’ve known each other rewinding. Two seconds of Liu Qingge forgetting, ignoring, looking until he can’t look and wants to tear his eyes out and drown in the neighborhood pond and forget. Two seconds of his blood standing still.
How could he presume to think that he forget this? Forget that Luo Binghe was all Shen Yuan had talked about after taking him on as a pupil? Forget that he cannot forget Shen Yuan?
Liu Qingge runs. He doesn’t know where he’s going. He makes it to their shared dorm room, takes his jacket and his credit card and leaves. He can’t face Shen Yuan.
Liu Qingge runs. This is the only thing he knows how to do. This is the only thing he can do, because Shen Yuan is kissing Luo Binghe and Liu Qingge is helpless and when has he ever stopped to think that he could have done more? Gone after Shen Yuan like Luo Binghe had, instead of keeping to himself?
Or is it that he is not Luo Binghe, and so Shen Yuan would never look at him?
Two days later, when Luo Binghe shows up at their dorm and Shen Yuan introduces him as his boyfriend, Liu Qingge smiles.
"Congratulations, you two.” He says.
“Thank you, Liu-didi!” Shen Yuan chirps. “Are you surprised?”
He’s practically sitting on Luo Binghe’s lap at this point. Liu Qingge is not surprised. “No.”
Luo Binghe pulls Shen Yuan closer. “I thought you’d be.”
“You’ve always been close. It makes sense.”
“Really?” Shen Yuan says. “Well, if you say so!”
Shen Yuan looks happy like this. He wonders if Shen Jiu knows, already, but since the older twin hasn’t flown over from his college in America and yelled at Shen Yuan, he probably doesn’t.
He remembers alcohol on lips and Shen Yuan’s hands in his hair. Luo Binghe must know more than he does. Liu Qingge cannot bring himself to be jealous, anymore, because -
I do not deserve this, I have never deserved this. Shen Yuan is good. Too good, too soft, too sensitive despite what he says. Liu Qingge knows that Luo Binghe will work well with him.
“Come on, shizun, let’s go study!” Luo Binghe says.
“I did say that you can stop calling me that already.”
“Then… A-Yuan?”
Shen Yuan moves out of Luo Binghe’s grasp and holds the door open for him. "Fine. Call me whatever!”
“Shizun! Wait for me!”
Liu Qingge watches the two of them leave. Congratulations, he thinks again, on finding happiness, Shen Yuan.
+1:
He’s invited to the wedding.
He doesn’t know why he expected not to be. After all, Liu Qingge has been one of Shen Yuan’s first friends. Even after 16 years (of watching, of pining, of not reaching out) they still message each other weekly, meet up with their high school friends who work in the same city for a drink or two, and Shen Yuan never fails to take an opportunity to tease Liu Qingge about getting a girlfriend.
“Or, a boyfriend! Don’t you want somebody to cuddle with? Are you not into that kind of stuff?” Shen Yuan had said.
“No, that’s not it…” I only want you.
That’s never changed.
Liu Qingge buys a new, fancier suit for the occasion. Mostly to impress the aunties who will be at the banquet later, after the civil ceremony.
"Hello, Liu-didi.” Shen Jiu says, when they run into each other prior to entering the chapel where the ceremony’s being held. “What a pleasant surprise, seeing you here.”
“Drop it, Shen Jiu.”
“You’re doing better than I expected.”
“What did you expect?” Liu Qingge sighs when Shen Jiu grabs another snack and smirks at him. “No, don’t answer that. Let’s go get seated already.”
Shen Jiu regards him coldly, but trails Liu Qingge inside the ceremony hall and sits in his assigned seat anyways. It’s almost noon, and the sunlight floods the chapel’s marble floor and translucent walls.
It’s beautiful. Liu Qingge watches as Luo Binghe fidgets at the altar, watches as the movement in the pews stops and the quiet music starts, watches as the stained glass refracts the sunbeams onto the green drapings and silver flower arrangements.
He watches as the heads turn towards the doorway and more light spills inside. Shen Yuan stands there with his mother, holding a bouquet of red flowers in his hands and a rose quartz bracelet on his right wrist. Liu Qingge’s chest tightens when he looks up and locks eyes with Luo Binghe.
Luo Binghe bites his lip. That is the look of a man who willingly let go of all reason and fell, a man who would swim the length of Yangtze River for Shen Yuan. The look of a man who is completely and utterly breathless, his eyes only seeing Shen Yuan’s slender figure haloed by the light, knowing nothing but Shen Yuan.
The sweet sound of the piano accompanies every step Shen Yuan and his mother take down the aisle. Here, surrounded by the quiet reverence of a wedding and Shen Yuan’s gentle brilliance, Liu Qingge allows himself to take in Shen Yuan’s beauty once more.
Shen Yuan does not look at anybody but Luo Binghe as he passes by Liu Qingge’s pew.
Liu Qingge wants to reach out and grab Shen Yuan’s wrist, fingers slipping under the rose bracelet. Liu Qingge wants to tell him to stop, to turn around and look at him, to stay for a moment and listen. Liu Qingge wants to say all the words that he’s been holding back for 6 years, all of which are I love you too, I have always wanted you by my side, even if you aren’t looking at me.
Liu Qingge watches Shen Yuan walk towards Luo Binghe waiting at the altar with a smile.
There is a smile only meant for Luo Binghe’s eyes on Shen Yuan’s face as he reaches the altar and takes Luo Binghe’s hands in his. And just like that, he is forever gone. And just like that, Luo Binghe is blinking back his tears and returning Shen Yuan’s smile tenfold.
Just like that. I wish you had smiled at me like that.
Luo Binghe’s hands cup Shen Yuan’s face and they kiss, once, their matching rings glittering on their intertwined fingers. The hall breaks into cheers as soon as their lips touch.
Take care of him, Luo Binghe.
Amidst the cheers, against his better interests, Liu Qingge closes his eyes and forgets.
(He can never forget Shen Yuan, nor can he stop loving him, but he does not deserve to love him, and so Liu Qingge lets go.)