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If Jiang Cheng had been with anyone besides Lan Xichen, he would have said this ... implosion was a long time coming, inevitable, that a break would be the only possible outcome for a relationship. He hated to admit it, but he had exit strategies in place for every relationship, romantic or otherwise, in his life. The only exceptions had been his sister, brother, and best friend. Until Lan Xichen.
Lan Xichen took every plan Jiang Cheng had made and destroyed them, leaving only one option in their place — a life with him, til death.
And then he comes home from work one day, ready for a long, relaxing weekend, and finds Xichen packing a bag instead.
“Did I forget something?” Jiang Cheng tosses his suit jacket on the chair by his nightstand.
“I’m going to Mingjue’s for a few days,” Xichen replies, but he won’t meet Jiang Cheng’s eyes.
“Is he alright?” Jiang Cheng asks, noting the current of tension in his words.
“He’s fine.”
Jiang Cheng pauses in the middle of changing out of his work clothes and looks at Xichen. “Are you alright?”
Xichen stuffs a sweater into his bag. “Not particularly.”
Jiang Cheng drops the t-shirt he holds and goes to his side. “What’s wrong?” He reaches for Xichen, but Xichen flinches away and Jiang Cheng drops his hand. “Babe, what’s—“
“I need to be...not here,” he says, still refusing to meet Jiang Cheng’s eyes. He tucks a few more items of clothing into his bag and tugs the zipper shut. “I’ll be b—I’ll be at Mingjue’s.”
“Xichen, what the fuck is going on?” He reaches for Xichen again, but Xichen picks up his bag and shoulders past him. Jiang Cheng grabs his wrist. “Xichen, stop, tell me —“
“Don’t!” Xichen yanks his arm away. “Don’t touch me! Not now. Don’t, just, don’t.”
“Xichen.”
“I’ll be at Mingjue’s,” he says. Then he turns and walks out on Jiang Cheng.
Jiang Cheng stands paralyzed in their room for a good ten minutes before he comes to his senses enough to find his phone and —and what?
He tries Xichen’s number but is unsurprised when it goes to voicemail, so he tries Mingjue instead.
He should call, but he finds that the words will not come. His throat burns as he holds back tears. He sits and texts instead.
i think Xichen just broke up with me he writes.
The reply is immediate.
haha funny
im serious Jiang Cheng replies. he packed a bag, he wouldn’t tell me what’s wrong, and he said he’s going to your place
ok a cheng, just, sit tight and i’ll see whats going on
Jiang Cheng tucks his phone into his trouser pocket and waits, ghosting through the apartment, tidying as he goes. Hours drag on, and still Mingjue does not call. When it hits eleven, Jiang Cheng has just about made up his mind to drive to Mingjue’s himself when the phone rings.
“What happened?” he asks in lieu of a greeting. “Is Xichen there? Is he okay?”
“He’s here, A-Cheng.”
Jiang Cheng sits down on the couch and covers his eyes with his hands. “Did he tell you what was wrong?” he asks, throat tight.
“He won’t say anything,” Mingjue replies. “He asked if he could stay and then went straight to the guest room and shut the door.”
“Does he know you’re calling me?”
“He’s asleep right now.” Mingjue sighs. “Do you have any idea what brought this on?”
“No!” Jiang Cheng takes a breath and fights to control his temper. “Nothing’s changed.”
“You didn’t make any surprise plans? Any big decisions that you didn’t discuss with him first?”
“Nothing, Mingjue! I don’t have a fucking clue!”
“Alright, alright. I believe you.” He falls silent for a minute. “Okay, think back,” he says at last. “When you got home. Did you notice anything out of place? Any mail that might have triggered his panic?”
Jiang Cheng goes back to their room and looks around. He hadn’t touched anything in there but the bed since Xichen left. Nothing looks out of place. His emergency bag is in the middle of their closet instead of tucked into a corner, but he’d assumed Xichen moved it when he dug out his own suitcase, and he tells Mingjue as much.
“What do you mean by emergency bag?”
Jiang Cheng shifts the phone to his other ear and sits down on his bed. “You know, for emergencies. I keep a couple changes of clothes, some cash, a spare battery for my phone, a pay-as-you-go phone, copies of important paperwork. Wei Ying calls it my bug-out bag.”
“Hmmm.” Mingjue offers no further comment. “Anything else?”
Jiang Cheng closes his eyes and thinks. “Nothing stands out. The paper was scattered on the table, and there was a mug of tea and some toast, like he decided to leave in the middle of breakfast. But I cleared it all away.”
“Alright. Look,” Mingjue says, his voice uncharacteristically gentle, “I won’t tell you not to worry. The last time Xichen had a meltdown like this was when his mom died. Just, try and look after yourself, okay? For now, Xichen’s here with me. He’s safe. He’s got people here.”
“Thanks,” Jiang Cheng says, his voice rough as he fights back tears.
“Hey, hey,” Mingjue says, “we’ll figure this out, okay?”
“I just wish I know what I did so I could make it right, you know?”
“I know, kiddo.”
Jiang Cheng smiles at the familiar endearment. “So you believe me?”
“I believe that if this is a reaction to something you did, whatever it was, you didn’t do it on purpose, and I believe you’ll do whatever it takes to make things right between you two.” Mingjue kindly ignores Jiang Cheng’s sniffling. “Look, I’m sending Huaisang over, alright? I don’t want you alone, either.”
“I’m okay,” Jiang Cheng protests.
“Regardless, he’s coming over. Have you eaten, or should I have him stop somewhere?”
Jiang Cheng smiles to himself, grateful that Mingjue is able to engage both Protective Big Brother and Best Friend modes at the same time. “I’m fine,” he insists. “Nothing’s open anyway.”
“I can send him through a drive thru.”
“It’s fine, really.”
Mingjue sighs again. “Alright. He’s packing a few things. He’ll be over soon.”
“Thanks,” Jiang Cheng whispers.
The weekend passes in a miserable fog. Huaisang commandeered Jiang Cheng’s phone the second he got to the apartment, fielding every inquisitive and well-meaning text and call that came through. He even managed to keep Yanli and Wei Ying away with promises of brunch the following weekend. Jiang Cheng vows to never underestimate his best friend’s resourcefulness or strength again. He stays with Jiang Cheng, lets him rant, sleep, fret —whatever the latter needs, he doesn’t leave his side until Sunday evening.
“We need something better than pizza, babe,” Huaisang says. He plays idly with Jiang Cheng’s hair as Jiang Cheng sprawls on the couch and rests his head in Huaisang’s lap.
“I’m not hungry,” Jiang Cheng says
“I am, and I’m really sick of junk food.” He pats Jiang Cheng’s chest. “I’m going to that place that has the duck and all the side dishes.”
“Shit, really?” Jiang Cheng perks up. “I haven’t been there in, like, a year.” He takes his wallet from his pocket and hands over a couple bills. “Get those spicy green beans, and the broccoli, and those candied sweet potatoes!”
Huaisang laughs. “I said healthy, A-Cheng.”
“Those are healthy! Mostly.”
“Fine, fine. Shift over and let me get up.”
Jiang Cheng reaches out for Huaisang’s hand as he goes. “Thank you,” he says, squeezing it. “I’m glad you’re here.”
Huaisang stoops to kiss Jiang Cheng’s forehead. “I’ll be back soon.”
The moment he’s alone, truly alone, Jiang Cheng curls in on himself and gives in to the tears he’d held mostly at bay for three days. He only meant to let some of the pressure off, but once he started, Jiang Cheng finds he can’t stop. Wracking sobs tear through him, and he presses his face into the cushions of the sofa. He doesn’t hear the front door open or the keys rattle in the bowl on the table.
“A-Cheng!” Cool hands grip him, turn him over and --
“Xichen!” Jiang Cheng pulls him in before he can think and kisses him, and to his profound relief, Xichen kisses him back, briefly, before sitting on the coffee table facing Jiang Cheng.
“Xichen, whatever I did, I’m so sorry, and I will do anything, anything to--”
“Shhh, shhh,” Xichen insists, taking Jiang Cheng’s hands. “It’s not your fault. It’s, I need to apologize. It’s me.”
“No, you didn’t, you couldn’t--”
“Stop.” Xichen puts his hand over Jiang Cheng’s mouth. “Let me explain?”
Jiang Cheng nods.
Xichen takes a long, shuddering breath and looks up at Jiang Cheng. “Meng Yao’s getting married. Huaisang told me that morning, so I would be prepared before it hit the papers.”
“Huaisang told you? But he didn’t say--”
“I made him promise not to say anything,” Xichen cuts in. “I hoped you wouldn’t see it.”
“Oh.” Jiang Cheng looks away. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I, I didn’t realize, didn’t know that you still—“
“No, no, that’s not it at all! Jiang Cheng, I didn’t, I don’t, I don’t still want him!” Xichen rubs his eyes. “I saw the announcement, and, I just. It hurt. I didn’t mean for it to hurt, but he was, he was so important, and he just moved on, after everything he did, and he gets to keep living.” He offers Jiang Cheng a weak smile. “I’m not proud of this. I was jealous, even though I want nothing of what he has. I wanted you. I still want you.”
“But you left.”
“I wasn’t going to, not permanently,” Xichen rushes to assure him. “I went to get a few bags because I was going to surprise you with a trip to the mountains this weekend, but then I found your bag, the one you had packed, and I, I overreacted,” Xichen finishes. He looks down at his hands, unable to meet Jiang Cheng’s eyes.
“I should have asked you to clarify,” Xichen continues. “Mingjue has informed me that ‘go bags,’ as he calls them, are not only common but practical, and he insisted I pack one immediately. He also informed me that I was being an idiot for getting my cardio by jumping to conclusions.”
Jiang Cheng snorts a laugh. “Damn, that is harsh, coming from him.”
“I needed it.”
Jiang Cheng slides down from the sofa to kneel between Xichen’s knees and circles Xichen’s waist to pull him into an embrace. “Did you happen to look at everything in my bag?”
“No,” Xichen admits, “ I just saw the phone and clothes and I panicked.”
Jiang Cheng kisses him cheek. “Wait here a second?”
When he returns, he has a small wooden box. He kneels in front of Xichen again. “This is not because your old boyfriend is getting married,” he says, handing the box to Xichen. “I’ve wanted to give this to you for awhile, and this is probably terrible timing, but Xichen --” he opens the box --”will you marry me?”
Xichen gasps as he takes in the two rings sitting on a piece of jet black velvet. The simple platinum bands seem to glow in the low light. “Are you serious? After everything I put you through?”
Jiang Cheng takes one of the rings and holds it out for Xichen. “I’ve wanted this for pretty much as long as I’ve known you,” he says. “Good times and bad.”
Xichen holds up his hand, and Jiang Cheng slides the ring onto his finger. “I can’t believe you still want me,” he says, his voice shaking, “but I’m going to work so hard to deserve you, A-Cheng, every day.”
Jiang Cheng laughs and kisses him. “Let’s not think about what we deserve,” he says. “But if you promise to talk to me when you get scared, I promise I’ll always listen, no matter what you say.”
Xichen takes Jiang Cheng’s face in his hands. “Then listen up,” he says, his eyes flashing. “I met Huaisang on the walk when I got here. He’s gone home, so we have the place to ourselves. I love you, Jiang Cheng, and I want you to let me show you just how much.”