Work Text:
The beginnings of panic were making him frantic. He can hear his heart jumping in his ears and his skin is tingling so intensely it almost hurt ; there’s a tense feeling coiling in his stomach, like an over-stretched rubberband just before it snaps.
He Tian is a fucking idiot.
The fucker’s teeth flash as he grins, “Aw, Momo, did I scare you?” His voice is strained and his expression wavers as he moves to sit up properly, even the smallest of movements making him wince. “Want me to— hold your hand?”
One of his hands— the one previously on his waist when Mo had thoughtlessly dived in to hug him, his heart in his throat and vision blurry because— almost, almost, almost — it falls to his knee, giving a weak squeeze and that with the burn of his lungs registering, Mo realizes he hadn’t been breathing this entire time.
His breath leaves him in a sharp gasp, the fingers of his free hand press to his lips as if to muffle the sound. His other hand has a vice-like grip on He Tian’s arm, fingers digging into the skin hard. His skin feels cold, wet from the rain and smeared with mud, but he’s alive. He Tian is alive.
“You’re alive.” Saying it out loud makes it seem more true somehow, however that makes sense. His initial panic is fading beneath the rush of fear. He’s alive , his heart is still racing painfully but he feels calmer in a way , he’s alive so everything is going to be okay.
“Don’t sound so disappointed.” Despite his playful words, He Tian is watching him with unsettling intensity, and Mo almost punches him when he asks, “You’re not hurt right?”
Mo wants to shout. “ No because someone— someone with shit for brains wanted to be play at being a fucking hero.”
He Tian chuckles weakly, “Okay, my bad.”
There’s clumps of mud in his hair and his skin is the palest Mo has ever seen, a sharp contrast to his dark hair. The line of his jaw is more pronounced, and his breathing seems shallow.
“How,” Mo gulps, “how bad is it?”
“You gonna kiss it all better?” His teasing voice drops at Mo’s expression. The rain has reduced to a light drizzle. The other pair are still not back. “Not much. Maybe a few bruised ribs.”
At least a few bruised ribs. “Take off your shirt.”
He Tian’s brows rise.
Mo scowls, cheeks coloring despite the situation. “So I can check for injuries.”
“I know that. But I can’t ‘cause it kinda.. hurts all over.”
“Oh.” That makes sense. “Okay, I’m gonna pull it up, alright?” At He Tian’s nod, Mo grabs the hem of his t-shirt, biting the inside of his mouth as he starts to lift, expecting the worst.
He Tian makes a choked off noise in the back of his throat and Mo straight up freezes, the t-shirt halfway up. “Ah, f-fuck, that hurt like a bitch.” He Tian laughs, and winces immediately after.
“He Tian? Oi,”
Panic colors his words, and Mo can’t help it. He Tian might seem invincible, but in the end he’s only human.
“Just pull it off, it’s ok.”
Mo nods, resuming and He Tian grunts as the movement presses against his tender ribs. The redhead doesn’t stop this time, pulling the drenched clothing over and off and his eyes immediately fall on He Tian’s torso.
Bruises litter the pale expanse of his skin, along with specks of blood from small cuts but, “There— There’s no blood.”
“Yay?”
“No— you- What if there’s some internal bleeding?” Those are bad, right? He’s pretty sure they are. “Fuck, He Tian, you- you fucking dick— we’re in the middle of nowhere, and you-you—“
“They’ll find something.” He Tian supplies, the they in question having been gone for almost over forty minutes at this point. “Now, calm down, yeah?”
Calm down , Mo repeats in his head. He can’t fucking calm down , he can’t assess the severity of his injury, He Tian looks two shades paler than he was earlier and his breathing looks laboured. And they’ve got little to no chances of help arriving before— what? Before what? What?
“Damnit,” he whispers to himself, eyes stinging, “Damnit!”
“Hey.” Fingers brush his cheekbone and he instinctively leans away from the touch before his fingers wrap around the wrist, and he looks up to meet He Tian’s eyes, “I need you to calm down, Little Mo.”
“I am calm.”
The dark-haired boy huffs a laugh at the stubborn words. “Okay, sweetheart.” When he speaks, next his voice is pitched at an unfamiliar octave; soft, as he says, “I’m not gonna die, Little Mo.”
There. He said it. So now it’s not gonna happen, all because He Tian said so. Because rich mafia brat He Tian said so and what he says goes.
“You better not.” Mo swallows tightly, heart lurching at the mere thought. You better not because I—
Mo’s in one of the many rooms in the He residence. The entire place is silent, so much that he can hear the drip drip drip of the IV attached to He Tian, who’s fast asleep on the bed, as he has for the last few hours.
Mo scoots his chair closer to the bed, his joints stiff and a dull ache throughout his entire body. The woman who came in to collect his half-eaten bowl of porridge earlier had told him to go wash up, Young Master is under extensive care, you don’t need to worry, but he couldn’t find it in himself to move: Not until he makes sure.
Moments before help arrived, He Tian had become a delirious mess, skin burning hot under Mo’s touch and he wouldn’t fucking hear anything and Mo— Mo had never felt so genuinely afraid in his entire life. The mechanical whirring of helicopter blades hadn’t even registered until He Cheng stood behind him, a hand on his shoulder pushing him out of the way as he began inspecting his brother.
He hadn’t had anything, he felt hunger twisting his stomach but food wouldn’t go past his throat. Jian Yi and Zhengxi had gone far enough to get signal on their phones, calling for help immediately. Mo doesn’t want to think what could have happened if they were a bit too late.
It’s been a good sixteen hours or so since they got back.
A team of doctors were already present by the time they landed at the He’s. Jian Yi and Zhengxi left a bit after the doctor’s announced that He Tian was stable but Mo wouldn’t budge. Not even after he was told that He Tian was put under for rest and recovery, he did wake up.
Mo isn’t leaving until he sees it for himself.
He can feel the exhaustion of everything that happened in his bones. He Tian’s skin looks better, no longer pale to the point Mo could see the lines of blue on his eyelids.
And then they’re open.
His eyes. They blink a few times, before he turns his head, dark grey meeting his own.
He Tian smiles wearily, “Hey, Momo.”
Mo’s breath hitches in his throat. His voice is hoarse and his smile isn’t as wide as it usually is but this is real, he’s here and he’s okay and there’s relief flooding Mo’s systems. His eyelids feel droopy. It’s like now that his brain’s dismissed the danger his entire body’s shutting down, exhaustion of everything that happened seeping into his bones.
“Hi.” He whispers back, before making to stand up. “I- I’ll go get someone—“
“Nono,” Fingers wrap around his wrist and he hears He Tian hiss as his body is jostled with the movement. “Don’ wanna.”
“If you say so.” Mo says slowly, sinking back into his seat.
“How long has it been?”
He Tian’s thumb is lightly drawing circles in the inside of Mo’s wrist. “A-A while.” Mo curses inwardly at the stutter. He doesn’t pull away though.
“And how long have you been here?”
“A while.”
He Tian’s ministrations on his wrist halt and his brows rise the slightest in—surprise, maybe. Like he didn’t expect Mo to stay. And Mo can’t really blame him for thinking that. He holds He Tian’s gaze.
A tug at his wrist. “Get in.”
“What?”
“Get in.” He repeats, tugging more. “Bed’s warm and I wanna cuddle.”
“You’re injured, dipshit.”
“Only the left side. Good thing, cause you’re the one right for me.”
“Are you still on drugs?” Mo stares in disappointment. But he’s taking off his jeans and sliding under the covers. It’s not a small bed by any means, but He Tian’s more towards the right side of the bed, meaning the space for Mo is still less. “Dude, scoot over.”
“Can’t. Injured, remember?”
“Worst fucking idea ever.” Mo declares after few minutes of lying stiffly against He Tian’s warm body. He doesn’t know what to do with his limbs, afraid he’d hurt He Tian if he shifts even a little. There’s no way he’d be able to sleep like this.
He Tian tsks, “You’re like a middle-schooler made to sit close to the girl he likes.” Wh— “Mind the ribs, thats all.”
“I—okay,” Mo still doesn’t know where to place his hands but his eyelids are getting heavy. “It hurt a lot?”
”When I fell from heaven? My, my, Little Mo, using such lines on a wounded man. Whatever will my heart do?~”
He presses his face to the side of He Tian’s shoulder, sighing. “Don’t know why I even bother.”
“But you do know.” He says, and yeah, Mo does know. The redhead hums against his skin, eyelids already falling shut. The last thing he hears before he drifts off is, “Now just hold me and I’ll be all okay tomorrow.”
Yeah? Yeah, okay. Mo can do that.
(He Cheng finds them in the morning, Mo with his face pressed up against He Tian’s side, knees pulled up and hands tucked under his chin and his brother’s arm thrown loosely around him, the rise and fall of their chests identical.
Young love.
He exhales audibly, purses his lips and exists the room, dismissing the doctor who’d come for check up and the house staff carrying a tray of food and excuses himself.
But he’s happy. And that’s all that matters.)