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“Shijie, how do you know when you like someone? Like, like them, like you want to maybe kiss them?” Wei Ying is draped over their sister’s lap as they sun themselves in the backyard of Jiang Manor. He twirls the stem of a daisy with his elegant fingers. Yanli plucks the flower from his hand and bops him on the nose with it.
“Do you like someone, Xian-Xian?”
Wei Ying scoffs. “Of course not. Not like that. I like you, of course, and A-Cheng, and our friends. But no kissing.”
Jiang Cheng stuffs his own rough hands, with ragged, bitten nails, deep into the pocket of his denim jacket and rolls his eyes. Wei Ying always talks like a baby when they’re with their sister, even though he is nearly sixteen and Jiang Cheng less than a year behind him. He knows that Wei Ying has gotten the same birds-and-bees talk -- they’re in the same health class, which is mortifying and only bearable because Huaisang is in class with them and he helps Jiang Cheng keep his temper when Wei Ying is being particularly outrageous. He draws funny little comics in the margins of their notes. And he always has snacks which he shares with Jiang Cheng and Wen Ning.
Jiang Cheng’s right hand strays to his left wrist and tugs on the brightly woven friendship bracelets tied there. Huaisang said he made them during the long car ride back from Qinghe at the end of summer break. He gets carsick if he reads, but the drive is so long and boring, so he listens to books and makes friendship bracelets. He told Jiang Cheng the whole story of the one he listened to this summer as he tied the bracelets on Jiang Cheng’s wrist, doing all the voices, too. They had to walk to Starbucks and back in order to get the whole story into an afternoon.
Jiang Cheng traces the bracelets: a rainbow, a bracelet with various shades of green and purple, a third with alternating stripes of black, white, gray and purple. He shivers as he remembers the sparks along his arm as Huaisang’s fingers touched him when he tied the bracelets on, and the way he was always touching Jiang Cheng’s shoulder, leaning on him when they sit on the bleachers at lunch.
He thinks about the little ceramic husky he gave Huaisang when they first met, almost half a lifetime ago. The last time Jiang Cheng saw it, he noticed the little pup was worn smooth and white, the paint gone from all but the deepest grooves.
He thinks about the night hunts they have just been allowed to join. Huaisang always at his back, razor-edged fans out and a preternatural calm that anchors Jiang Cheng, that allows him to keep a steady hold on his sword even if fear has him in its icy grip.
He thinks about the day last week, when Huaisang’s brother was rushed to the hospital after a particularly bad migraine, their math teacher ushering both Huaisang and Jiang Cheng into the hall to deliver the news. Jiang Cheng drove Huaisang to the hospital behind the ambulance and held his hand when they sat in the waiting room while their father was talking with doctors. His normally vibrant friend was so small and quiet and pale.
Jiang Cheng sits up suddenly.
“...I can’t picture a day where I don’t at least text him,” Yanli is saying. She looks over at Jiang Cheng. “A-Cheng? Are you alright?”
“I need to go.” He snatches the car keys from Wei Ying’s bag, ignoring his brother’s protests. “I won’t be back for dinner. Cover for me, jiejie?”
“A-Cheng—“
He stops and casts a pleading look at his sister. “Please, Jie? I’m alright, but I need to do something. Now.”
“Be careful,” she says, waving him away. She then smiles down at Wei Ying. “I’ll give you a ride to Wangji’s on my way to see Zixuan.”
Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes at his brother’s pitiful whining, but he doesn’t stop. He jogs out to the car.
He drives carefully, for all that he wants to floor it, his well-developed sense of self preservation kicking in. Besides, he really couldn’t bear the lecture he’d get if he got in an accident. He drives carefully, arriving at his destination in just twenty minutes.
Twenty minutes. It hardly seems like enough time to prepare to turn your world upside down, but to Jiang Cheng, it simultaneously feels like an eternity. The walk up to the front door, each step forward an accomplishment. For a moment, he wonders if he should have called ahead, but then his hand is up, and he’s knocking on the broad oak door of the Nie residence, and not a minute later, the door opens, and Nie Mingjue is looking down at him with surprise.
“What’s wrong?” Mingjue asks.
Jiang Cheng takes a breath and tries to shake the anxiety from limbs. “Is Huaisang home?”
Mingjue studies him, and a slow, teasing smile blooms on his typically-gruff features.
“Is it really time?” he asks cryptically, but he doesn’t seem to want a response because he steps back and urges Jiang Cheng to come inside. He closes the door, then claps Jiang Cheng’s shoulder, his grip just shy of painful. “You’re a smart boy.”
Jiang Cheng nods.
Mingjue smiles at him again, and it’s genuinely fond. “Alright, he’s up in his room.”
Jiang Cheng nods again and sprints up the stairs to Huaisang’s attic bedroom. The door is open half an inch, and soft music leaks into the hall. He knocks on the door.
“Come in!”
Huaisang is seated cross-legged on his bed. He’s dressed in sweatpants and one of Mingjue’s old hoodies. His hair is down in a loose braid, and he’s taken out his contacts. He looks up from the book in his lap, blinking owlishly through large round glasses, and Jiang Cheng thinks it might be the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.
Huaisang frowns. “A-Cheng, did we have plans?”
Jiang Cheng shakes his head, and it’s another long moment before he finds his voice.
“I like you, Huaisang,” he says.
Huaisang tilts his head to one side. “I like you, too?”
“No,” Jiang Cheng says. He comes into the room, shuts the door, and leans against it. “I mean, I like you. A lot.”
“Yes,” Huaisang says slowly, as if he’s speaking to a particularly dull child. “I know. And I like you. I thought you knew all this?”
“I think I did, but I just, like, realized it today.”
“Oh, my god, are you kidding me?” Huaisang drops his book. “Just today? Jiang Cheng, I’m sorry!”
“Wait, what? Why are you sorry? I like you.”
“Yes, but I thought you already knew and that’s why you let me be all clingy and stuff. Oh, my god, were you just humoring me?” He looks away, blushing furiously. Jiang Cheng rushes to his side and kneels beside the bed.
“No, I just thought you were really nice and, like, my best friend, and that’s what best friends do!” He reaches for Huaisang’s hand, but stops himself. “Can I?”
“Yes, of course! You don’t have to ask!”
“I don’t want to assume anything.”
“A-Cheng.”
“Shit, okay, so I’m a huge idiot,” Jiang Cheng says.
“What clued you in? That you like me,” he rushes on, “not that you’re an idiot. Because you’re not. An idiot. Probably. No more than me, anyway.”
“Shut up, you’re not an idiot.”
Huaisang smiles. “We both are, a little bit, but we don’t have to tell anyone.”
Jiang Cheng laughs. “I think your brother might know. That we’re idiots.”
Huaisang rolls his eyes. “At least we figured it out before he and Xichen-ge and Meng Yao. I think San-ge is going to have to sit them down and spell it out.” He squeezes Jiang Cheng’s hand. “But seriously, what tipped you off?”
“Wei Ying was whining to A-jie about how you know if you like someone, and, I don’t know, everything just clicked? And then I got in the car and came here to tell you.”
“Okay, we may be a little bit dense,” Huaisang says, “but we aren’t Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji levels of dense. Your brother might figure it out on their wedding day, but he’s more likely to be laughing at the great joke he and Wangji are playing on people.”
“Shit, you are so right!” Jiang Cheng laughs. “God, they’re so stupid! At least they’re stupid for each other.”
“Yeah.” Huaisang sighs. “So. Um. Did you just come here to tell me you like me?” He tucks a loose strand of hair behind his ear.
“Yeah. Oh, no!” Jiang Cheng scrambles up and pulls Huaisang along with him. “Can I kiss you?”
Huaisang grins at him. “Yes, please.”
“Oh, really?” Jiang Cheng blinks, as if he didn’t expect that to work.
Huaisang nods. “Yes, really.”
“Okay, cool.” He doesn’t know quite what to do with his hands, so he lets them dangle at his sides as he leans in and brushes a swift kiss across Huaisang’s lips. “Is that alright?”
“It’s a good start.”
Jiang Cheng grins back. Too wide, maybe, and he thinks he might look a little crazy, but he can’t help it. “Cool.”
“Yeah. Cool.” Huaisang takes hold of Jiang Cheng’s hands. “You probably have time to try it once more before da-ge’s up here demanding we leave the door open.”
This time, Jiang Cheng closes his eyes when Huaisang tugs him closer, and their lips meet. He can taste Huaisang’s minty lip balm and he catches a bit of Huaisang’s breath before they part.
“Better,” Huaisang whispers just as Mingjue knocks on the door and shouts, “Door open!”
“Damn, you were right,” Jiang Cheng mutters.
“You’re lucky he likes you,” Huaisang says as he lets go of Jiang Cheng’s hands to go and open the door. “Remember when Su She asked me out in eighth grade?”
“Ooh, yeah, he was not the same after that dance.” Jiang Cheng sticks his hands in his pockets. “So. Yeah. I just came over here to say that. I ran out on dinner, but jiejie said she’d cover for me.”
“Then you should stay for dinner,” Huaisang says. He sits back on his bed and makes room for Jiang Cheng, just like he has a thousand times before. Jiang Cheng stretches out beside him, and Huaisang hands him a pillow and a comic book. “Da-ge is making baked potatoes with all the yummy toppings.”
“That sounds good,” he says as he flips to his bookmark. He reads a page or two before he says, in the most casual voice he can manage, “Do you think, before I go home, I could kiss you again?”
Huaisang laughs and elbows him gently in the side. “Yeah. I think that will be okay.”
“Cool,” Jiang Cheng says.
“Yeah,” Huaisang agrees. “Cool.”