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There once was only darkness which stretched across his entire plane of existence. He learned of a lot of things during this time, though he couldn’t put a name to any of them. There was so much he didn’t have a name for, and so he gave himself one for others to call, in case there was someone like him out there. Someone who knew a hundred things, yet had no words for them.
Xingqiu, Xingqiu, Xingqiu.
-
There was darkness, until there wasn’t. In one instance, all Xingqiu had known disappeared, making way for a new world filled with a thousand things he once again had no words for.
In this newfound not-darkness, Xingqiu searched for familiarity, and instead found a fresh feeling accompanied by a something that looked recognisable.
“Hello” this something said.
Hello, hello, hello.
A greeting.
“Hello” he repeated. He startled at his voice, unfamiliar yet wholly his. He knew this, but he didn’t know how.
“Welcome to this world. I’ve been watching the water form you, and I remembered myself when I was first created. It would be easier to understand all this with a friend, yes?” the something said.
“I agree,” Xingqiu said, not having known that he could. “What name have you given yourself?” he asked, his very first question. It would be one of many, he already tasted them on the tip of his tongue.
The something stretched its face in a way that he would soon find out was a ‘smile’, and gave him an answer, the first of many.
Chongyun, Chongyun, Chongyun.
-
Xingqiu learned of days and nights and of their passing. Each day, each night, each passing he learned more and more, both on his own and with the help of his dear friend.
Water was the foundation of what he was made of. It was in the way his words resembled waterfalls, the rivers in his movements, the pitter patter of rain in his footsteps. Water welcomed him like home, waves kissing his ankles when he stepped back into the ocean, the tides pulling him under.
Blue, blue, blue, like the depths of the ocean in his hair.
“Water and light and love,” Chongyun would say.
Chongyun was made of ice. It was in the weighted comfort his cold words brought him, in the chill that accompanied his every step, in the trembles that shook Xingqiu at his presence.
Blue, blue, blue, like the layer of frost that Xingqiu’s water could not escape.
“Ice and light and love,” Xingqiu would say back.
-
The cold was something Xingqiu became familiar with quickly. Ever since he first opened his eyes it was there, comforting and grounding.
When it left, shudders would wrack his body, the thin layer of frost on him slowly thawing, turning him back to water, back to what he truly was. And yet he missed it. Missed the bite, missed the way it seemed to hold him, creeping up to his chest, to his neck, and taking his breath away.
Xingqiu had learned early on that spirits of other elements would only harm him. His hand still ached from when he’d stepped too close to Chongyun, trying to get closer to the comfort of his frost.
Chongyun had flinched away, a certain expression on his face that Xingqiu had yet to learn. It had struck Xingqiu then, that despite the many passings that he’d spent alive, there were still so many things he didn’t know. He made it his goal to know it all, so that he would know the strike of fire, so that he would recognise the caress of wind, so that there would never be a glint in Chongyun’s eyes that he didn’t know.
“You..” Chongyun had said, warily eyeing Xingqiu’s hand which had the smallest hints of ice on its fingertips. His voice had trembled. “It burns.”
During one of the passings that his dearest left him so they could cleanse themselves of each other, Xingqiu pressed his lips against his fingertips, indulging himself in the cold that was left.
What was water, if not clear? What was water, if not fluid?
-
It was during his first winter that Chongyun left him.
Xingqiu couldn’t say he missed the cold, it was all around him, covering the land in a white, weighted blanket. During the warmer days he let himself leave the comfort of his realm, feet freezing over and thawing again with each step he took. On these days he could safely wander along the paths the snow had left him with.
His dearest had prepared their land with the utmost care just a week earlier, carving marks into the ground that Xingqiu had never heard of, whispering the few remaining creatures a good sleep, kissing frost onto flowers so they may enjoy the sun just one day longer.
When Xingqiu had asked him what he was preparing for, Chongyun had explained the winter to him.
It was a blessing, a gift from an ice spirit to the land it inhabits. Springs, summers, and autumns were gifts of life and wealth. The land would flourish and leave each creature in it with nothing left to desire. The winter, however, wasn’t kind. It left many longing for the warmth that came with the rest of the seasons, and yet it was still loving. The winter was a time of rest, a time during which a spirit would bless the land with the chance to replenish its energies so that the kiss of spring would taste so much sweeter.
“It’s to keep you safe,” he had explained back then, that same unrecognisable look in his eyes. “I’m already hurting you. To have you be close to me and what I create.. I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself.”
He had to keep himself from disagreeing back then, ignoring a certain type of bitterness in his heart. Chongyun always stayed with him while it rained, freezing, cracking, melting again and again. Did he think he couldn’t handle himself? Did he think he was too weak?
A hundred words he didn’t know he had threatened to spill from him, and yet he held his tongue. He didn’t want to scare him away.
“Will you be back?” he asked instead, small and meek and hopeful, guilty of the things he didn’t say.
Chongyun had softened at that. “Of course. I always come back, don’t I?”
Of course. Of course. Of course.
The many preparations Chongyun had made were hidden now, covered by the white powder that he had dressed this land with. Xingqiu allowed himself some selfishness and let his hands crack and heal as he ran them over the blessings the ice spirit had left this place with.
-
In the deepest days of winter, when the frost had full control, Xingqiu’s voice could be heard alight with laughter.
How reckless, he thought, holding the finely crafted ice petals in his hands. Never before had he felt such pain, and yet his heart soared with each cold, stinging pulse that wracked his body.
Chongyun had sent him a flower woven of ice crystals that only magic could create. Not a single petal had a crack in it, and each of them were thin enough to both cut and break at the lightest touch. As all things that Chongyun touched, this too was covered by a thin layer of frost. Xingqiu wondered quietly if, just like real flowers, this was meant to protect it. He swiped his thumb over it and felt himself ripple with the cold that struck him.
He knew the other spirit had intended this to be a gift for his eyes alone, and perhaps he would have accepted it as such once. Now, however, he sank himself into the way the cold gripped him relentlessly, indulging in the flutters in his heart.
-
“Did you see my gifts?”
His voice shouldn’t have surprised him, really. He felt Chongyun return, felt the heavy weight of his presence coupled with the remnants of winter push him down, forcing him to seek safety of the tides. It scared him, the sheer force of the cold, much stronger than he remembered.
Thankfully Chongyun seemed to have been aware of this, as he’d avoided meeting him until his energy finally seeped into the cracks his absence had left.
Days and nights passed until the snow melted and the earth and all its creatures showed itself once again.
Now Chongyun stood at the edge of the waters Xingqiu came from, shy and hopeful.
“I did,” Xingqiu said, daring to lift his eyes above water so that he could look at Chongyun better.
The air no longer cut him the way his ice flowers did. He was now free to breathe, free to take in the other spirit’s appearance, free to let the overwhelming feeling of something akin to relief wash over him at the sight. Oh, how he’d missed him, how he wishes he could reach out and pull him under so that he could hold him the way a lover would. Or perhaps he would step out of the waves and allow Chongyun to turn him to frost, so that they may never melt and fade.
He reached out his hand, expecting the other to flinch away. Instead, when the ice spirit saw it, he fell to his knees and bowed his head, gripping the earth next to it. So, so close, yet never touching.
Xingqiu watched as Chongyun took deep, shaky breaths, his form trembling as he kneeled before him.
“I’m glad,” Chongyun said after a while. He lifts his head and Xingqiu doesn’t understand the way his chest tightened when their eyes met.
“I really am glad.”
-
He found that he enjoyed spring, enjoyed his say in the happenings in it. What once was Chongyun’s would thaw and melt, and become Xingqiu’s. Another gift, another offering to his heart which he gladly accepted.
These days the rain showed no signs of stopping, and the layers of snow flooded the land, leaving it in a constant state of cold wetness. Xingqiu let himself merge into the scenery, laughing in delight at how easily he could become mist. Chongyun instead hid in the frosty shadows, always huddling away from the water that would drown him alongside the earth.
There would be times during which Chongyun would disappear for days, and Xingqiu wondered if he would let his fingers drift across the wetness that had covered the land, and if so, he hoped it burnt itself into his being and left a permanent mark. Perhaps it was selfish to wish for his lover’s pain, and yet he couldn’t help but dabble in the thought.
A constant, dull throb matching his own.
Much to his disappointment, the ever flowing currents of spring flooded his body with such power that this pain subsided. He hoped it wouldn’t disappear, he knew Chongyun would never bless him with as much as a whisper of his ice along his arm.
-
There were scars on Chongyun’s hands.
Were they accidental? Was he not fast enough to escape the water? Were they intentional? Did he relish in the pain? Did he wish for it to wrap around his body and bite itself into his skin? Did he long for how it could choke his lungs and force itself into his depths?
Breaking him, rebuilding him, ruining him,
There were scars on Chongyun’s hands.
Did they match his? Were they caused by the same burn that they had experienced many seasons ago? Did they make him feel loved the way they did Xingqiu? Did he press his hands into damp moss and cry out in pain as his body rejected the mere thought of everything Xingqiu was? And did he press on, letting it seep into him, letting it leave kisses on him that would never leave?
Xingqiu’s gift to him, if he was so kind as to take it.
The sun was getting terribly hot.
-
It was almost laughable, the way Chongyun withered away during Summer.
Being water, and therefore ever present in all cycles of life, Xingqiu had only ever had to resort to jumping into a pool of it to preserve himself. Even then it was his very essence that he could find comfort in.
Summer seemed to force the frost away, and Chongyun accepted his defeat near instantly. Xingqiu was thankful for the mistflowers that the other spirit had managed to hide in. Talking to a flower felt a bit silly to him, but it was worth it. He remembered how overwhelming Chongyun’s presence had been when combined with all that winter was, and he was sure that this must feel different in its way, yet similar in its intensity.
Xingqiu reached out his hand and brushed over the mistflower petals gently, fondness blooming in his chest at the burn.
The flower swayed, “It hurts.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
He dropped his hand.
-
There were scars on Chongyun’s hands and Xingqiu wanted to touch them.
“When did you hurt yourself?” he asked, a long overdue question.
It was a colder day, and Chongyun had let himself be coerced into leaving his safe haven and joining Xingqiu on some cool rocks in the shade.
Chongyun looked at his hands, turning them over and examining the marks that had been cut into them. There was not a single thing in his short life that Chongyun had not explained to him. He knew that if he asked, then he was sure to receive an answer. That was how things were, and that was how things would always be.
“When did you hurt yourself?”
“Much too early ago,”
“Why?”
“Why do you hurt yourself?”
Xingqiu bit his tongue. It stung in a different way that ice did, and he didn’t enjoy the warm taste that flooded his mouth.
This wasn’t the way things usually go.
He didn’t know why exactly. He had hoped to find this out from Chongyun. The feeling was something he was far too familiar with, and yet he still had no name for it. An ache in his chest, a painful squeeze in his stomach, the need to reach out and touch, even if just to brush the hair from his face. The way that pain crashed through his body like tidal waves whenever he came too close to everything that Chongyun was, and the way he never stopped reaching out despite it.
He was too young to know.
-
Light blue hair, just as the sky tended to be during this season, and eyes to match. These were the only things Xingqiu couldn’t mimic. It was uncanny how easily he could shift his form to match that of his dearest, and yet the reflection that stared back at him looked foreign and frozen instead of simply cold.
Xingqiu reached up and touched his face.
Waves.
He wondered if Chongyun felt any different.
He let his appearance drip into the water he was staring down at, once again returning to Xingqiu.
-
Summer had gone, Autumn had come, and along with it coloured leaves, chilled winds, and Chongyun.
He had been ethereal, a thin fog following him wherever he went now that he was finally allowed to unleash his entire self once more. Xingqiu had missed his presence when he was like this, unrestrained and powerful. Most of all, however, he missed the smile that he’d been gifted the second Chongyun’s form had manifested from the mist in the air.
“Xingqiu,” he whispered, his smile brightening after he uttered his name. As though he enjoyed having to form it with his lips, he again said, “Xingqiu, Xingqiu,”
A small noise escaped Xingqiu’s throat. He didn’t know why.
“Chongyun,” he just barely croaked out. He had always adored the name. The day he learned to speak it with his tongue rather than his soul, he spoke it a thousand more times.
He reached his hand out, “Chongyun, Chongyun.”
Oh how Chongyun smiled. Xingqiu wondered briefly if he would ever find a name for the look in his eyes, but this thought was quickly discarded when he felt frost shoot up his veins, and into his spine, curling around his heart.
He gasped, staring at his hand that had been gripped tightly, Chongyun wincing in pain.
A sob bubbled up his throat, and he pulled him closer. His body ached and he felt his joints stiffening. Every touch of ice he indulged himself in could not compare to the way this seared through him and ripped him apart inside out.
Chongyun’s arms enclosed around him, his hands rubbing circles onto his back, and he was so, so cold. He felt tiny shards of ice fall onto his shoulder, and he wondered if Chongyun felt his tears just as prominently.
The air was punched out of his lungs when he began to shatter. He dug his fingers into Chongyun until they were no more, sobbing into his dearest’s neck, begging it to stop.
They pulled apart, just barely. There were crystals on Chongyun’s cheeks. He’d always been so, so lovely.
“I’m sorry,” Xingqiu said.
“I’m sorry,” Chongyun replied.
And despite the way his body stiffened and cracked and shattered, Xingqiu couldn’t remember a single time he smiled this wide. He leaned forward.
There was a whisper of a cold breath on his lips.