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Xingqiu had always expected to be the one who confessed first.
Some days, he would sit on the edge of his bed, fingers digging into silken sheets and his legs swinging as he rehearsed lines he could never find the will to actually say out loud. Much less, say out loud to Chongyun’s face. Even still, Xingqiu hadn’t actually imagined Chongyun to come out with his feelings before him. Maybe Chongyun was good at hiding his feelings, maybe Xingqiu was just too caught up in his to even recognize his companion’s own (looking back, the swordsman now feels dumb to have not realized the way Chongyun’s face dusted pink when the both of them would accidentally get too close), but somehow the two managed a way to communicate.
It was a sloppy confession, really. If Xingqiu had ever envisioned a confession happening to him before (which he had), he would have pictured one akin to something within the novels he reads. A darkening sky tinted orange with a sunset, clouds painted pink and purple, the scent of silk flowers and glaze lilies wreathing around them, warm hands taking hold of Xingqiu’s own. It would have been a romantic confession. Chongyun’s however…
Well, in all honesty, Xingqiu wasn’t sure whether Chongyun genuinely didn’t know how to be romantic, or if he tried to be and just didn’t have any particular grasp on it. No matter which way it was, Xingqiu still found it cute and stored the memory permanently in his heart.
They’d been bidding each other goodbye at the doorsteps to the Feiyun Commerce Guild after a day of wandering Liyue. But, the moment Xingqiu turned to step inside, Chongyun grabbed his friend’s wrist and yanked him back, staring so intently, Xingqiu worried the boy just might burn a hole through the fabrics of the Guild’s son’s jacket.
And then, to top it off, Chongyun had blurted in the most deadpan way possible, “I like you.”
It had dazed Xingqiu for a good few seconds, his mind mulling over those three confusing, yet simple words. And then he burst out laughing.
“Chongyun,” Xingqiu had said once he regained control of himself. “What… what are you talking about?”
The boy in front of him immediately shrank into himself, eyes dropping and face lighting up with a red Xingqiu oh so adored. “I, um, well…”
Chongyun kicked loose gravel with his shoe, eyes still glued to the cement. But then, he snapped his head up, an “Oh!” coming past his lips as he reached behind him to reveal a now wilting silk flower from seemingly out of thin air.
“This is— it’s for you,” Chongyun had managed to say, holding the sad flower out to Xingqiu. “Ah, but I guess my pocket smothered it. Sorry… I meant for it to look pretty.”
It was then that realization sparked in Xingqiu. Slowly, he extended his hand and allowed Chongyun to delicately place the flower in Xingqiu’s palm. Even with it’s dying state, the boy handled it with as much care as possible, fingers burning against the cool skin of Xingqiu’s hand.
Xingqiu stared at it, lips parted slightly in awe. He didn’t notice it at first, but tears began to slowly make their way down his cheeks. Alarmed, Chongyun reached out to gently touch his shoulders, apologizing for things he honestly didn’t need to apologize for, but, Xingqiu supposed, that was just how Chongyun was. And so, he embraced him, bringing Chongyun forward in a hug that was much closer and tighter than any hugs they had shared before. At the time, Xingiqu hadn’t wanted to let go.
“It is pretty,” Xingqiu had whispered into Chongyun’s ear. “Thank you, dearest. Thank you so much.”
Though he hadn’t had the chance to tell him, Xingqiu had plans to try and save the silk flower. When Chongyun had left, Xingqiu had brought up a vase to his bedroom, filling it with water and slowly nursed the flower back to good health. That night, he stared at it from where he laid in bed, moonlight that filtered through his window igniting the petals in a purple flame.
————
From then on, Xingqiu came to recognize a lot of new things about Chongyun that he didn’t particularly see before. Most noticeably, being the frequent touches. They had locked arms before they dated, poked each other’s cheeks, brushed gentle hands over shaking shoulders. But that had never really meant much of anything. Well, maybe it had meant something to Chongyun and Xingqiu just hadn’t realized it at the time. Admittedly, Xingqiu would be lying to himself if he said the times he cupped Chongyun’s cheek prior to the confession weren’t out of self indulgence.
Though he’d always known Chongyun like the back of his own hand— even better than Xingqiu knew himself, he would dare say— he didn’t realize that Chongyun’s love language would be physical touch. It suited him quite well, though, given his inability to voice his emotions clearly at times.
They’d be sitting at Wanmin Restaurant, eating whatever dish Xiangling cooked up for them (some more experimental and questionable than others), and then Xingqiu would feel Chongyun’s hand hesitantly snake around his own under the counter. Xingqiu couldn’t help but smile everytime it happened, twining their fingers together and giving a light squeeze. Out of the corner of his eye, he’d sometimes catch the red that coated the shell of Chongyun’s ear. If Xiangling ever saw what transpired, she never said anything.
Other times, when Chongyun caved into Xingqiu’s antics (which was all the time) and joined him on a trip to the bookstore or literally anywhere else, he’d stick close to Xingqiu. At some point, his finger would loop around the boy’s vision clip, the bend of his elbow, or hold gently onto the cuff of his sleeves. He always found a way to hold onto Xingqiu, it seemed. As if the Guild’s boy was an anchor of sorts.
Chongyun absolutely loved to hug Xingqiu. Most notably, he loved to be hugged back. Whether it was his arm wrapping around Xingqiu’s shoulders in what would appear to onlookers to be a friendly gesture, or more forwardly a hug from the front, head buried in his boyfriend’s shoulder, Chongyun would always melt right into the other boy and let out a contented sigh.
Xingqiu came to understand with careful experimentation that Chongyun enjoyed those touches the most, even when the exorcist wouldn’t say so himself. It’d calm his mind and ease whatever anxieties the boy was experiencing.
When they’d be out in public and hoping that no one was looking, Chongyun would nuzzle his nose into Xingqiu’s neck, arms wrapping around his waist.
“You smell good,” was all Chongyun had said when Xingqiu questioned it. And being the nervous and overthinking boy he was, Chongyun tentatively questioned a moment later, “Is it… is it okay?”
“Of course it’s okay, Yun-yun,” Xingqiu had replied, hand coming up to run through Chongyun’s hair.
Chongyun had immediately sunk right into Xingqiu, head tilting into the other boy’s hand. That action had never ceased to make Xingqiu’s heart jump and his own cheeks flush with color.
When they’d be out of the view of the harbour, or at a secluded mountain top overlooking the beauty of Liyue, Chongyun would be a bit braver and ask if he could lay down. What Xingqiu didn’t know at first was that lying down meant Chongyun’s head in Xingqiu’s lap. After the first time it happened, it became a regular thing between them. Xingqiu would often prop himself against a tree, book in one hand and the other lazily in Chongyun’s hair as the other boy dazedly circled the patterns on Xingqiu’s coat. Never before had Xingqiu realized that he needed the weight of Chongyun against him like this.
————
Another thing Xingqiu noticed was that Chongyun was not a heavy sleeper. He’d somewhat known this before the two were together, occasionally hearing Chongyun shift on the futon he would claim when the boy would stay the night at the Guild. But, dating each other and having such a strong and almost unbreakable desire to be close to one another led to the futon being ditched at one point.
It was new. Somewhat awkward, too. It began with a hesitant excuse to just hold hands while they slept because Archons knew Xingqiu was not going to lean over his bed all night just to hold Chongyun’s hand.
“Just come up here, Chongyun,” Xingqiu huffed, glaring with mock annoyance at the boy on the floor.
Chongyun’s eyes had widened a fraction, hands gripping at the thin sheet draped over him somewhat tighter. “Are you… are you sure?”
Xingqiu just laughed. “Of course I’m sure. Now come on, stand up already.”
And so, he had. Chongyun stood and Xingqiu scooched over on the bed to make room, shoving the heavier, more thick blankets he knew Chongyun wouldn’t want over to the other side. For a while, Chongyun had just stared at the spot made for him, twisting his fingers together and eyes flicking from Xingqiu’s to the bed, a contemplative expression cementing his face. Then, with movements that were slow and delicate, as if anything rougher would snap the bed in half, Chongyun climbed in, shuffling a bit to get comfortable and adjust his head on his pillow so that he was facing Xingqiu.
“See? That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Xingqiu said, reaching out to brush Chongyun’s bangs from his eyes. He loved touching his hair.
Chongyun seemed to shrug, the motion somewhat lost given his sideways position. “I guess not.”
Xingqiu smiled, bringing his hand down from Chongyun’s hair to cup his face. He leaned forward to softly kiss the spot between Chongyun’s eyebrows, eliciting a noise from the other boy, but successfully erasing the frown that was found there. “Stop worrying too much.”
Xingqiu wormed his other hand out from underneath the covers and searched for Chongyun’s own. When he found it, he interlaced their fingers and brought it up so that their hands rested up near the pillows. Chongyun’s gaze had fluttered down to look at them, a smile tweaking at his lips.
“Okay,” Chongyun said simply.
And though sharing a bed with Chongyun had been something Xingqiu had only dreamt about before, he wasn’t all that happy to wake up the next morning to a Chongyun who had only slept seven hours (which was apparently healthy, but not to Xingqiu’s standards) when he had slept a whopping eleven. He apologized profusely, worrying that sleeping in the same bed had perhaps made Chongyun anxious all night or uncomfortable. Chongyun simply waved him off, saying it was fine. What Xingqiu wouldn’t come to know was that Chongyun had actually stayed those extra four hours in bed, still and content on watching his boyfriend sleep with a dumbstruck grin.
————
Chongyun did tend to go to bed early. Or at least, that’s what he had once claimed, stating he kept it up merely due to his exorcist practices. He’d often fall asleep next to Xingqiu in bed on the nights he stayed over while the bookworm was still reading a novel. And while having an actual healthy routine for sleeping had seemed desirable, Xingqiu would— more often than not— find himself curled up on his bed after dinner, reading whatever book he was currently immersed in with only the dim light of his lantern beside him to guide his eyes. Chongyun insisted that if he were to stay up reading, then he at least have something other than the weak light of that “puny paper sun”, lest Xingqiu’s eyes go bad.
Sometimes, however, Xingqiu would manage to catch the time, having either finished his book early or drifted his gaze to catch the rising moon outside his window. When that happened, he’d promptly ready himself for bed.
On most nights however, he’d stay up reading. That, or he’d lay awake on his bed, the moon coating his ceiling in a pale lavender-grey as his mind mulled over whatever stories he’d recently interested himself with. Sometimes he’d stay awake not thinking about his books at all. And sometimes, with rosy cheeks and a silly smile he couldn’t shake, Xingqiu would be thinking of Chongyun.
One day, however, had left both of them exhausted. While Xingqiu had flitted around the Feiyun residence, attending complicated and far too boring business meetings, as well as running a few tasks for his father, Chongyun had mercilessly been sent on an excruciating commission all the way to Wuwang hill. When Xingqiu had first seen him that morning, Chongyun was bright and happy, no doubt hopeful about the suspicions of haunted spirits that were rumored to dwell there.
It seemed, though, that it didn’t turn out the way the exorcist had wanted it to. Xingqiu found this to be especially true once the poor boy had stumbled rather unceremoniously into the second heir’s bedroom, covered head to toe in sweat, dirt, and other muck that Xingqiu dared not question (Chongyun seemed to have thankfully left his shoes at the front door to the house, however, given that he was barefoot). What Xingqiu did question was how in the Seven’s names Chongyun had actually managed his way into his home without being kicked out by the maids. Archon’s forbid anyone saw him or he’d no doubt be promptly kicked out.
“How…?” Xingqiu began, not really sure which part to question first. But given the other boy’s state, clearly overworked and on the verge of collapsing, Xingqiu shook his head. He’d shelve those questions for another time.
Xingqiu stood, sighing, and made his way over to the other standing in the room.
“Hey,” Chongyun croaked out as a greeting, a tired smile lining his features. He practically falls right into Xingqiu once the boy is within distance.
“Chongyun,” Xingqiu catches him by the shoulders to steady him, voice soft, yet still scolding. “You better not be hurt.”
Xingqiu takes a small step backwards to analyze Chongyun’s face, frowning at the smudges of dirt and grime (as well as a dark, crusty, indistinguishable substance near Chongyun’s temple that he hoped wasn’t blood) he finds there. Nevermind that, Xingqiu thinks to himself. No matter what was on him right now, Xingqiu knew Chongyun needed to be cleaned up.
“M’fine,” Chongyun mumbles, head falling to rest on Xingqiu’s shoulder. “Jus’ tired.”
“You pushed yourself too hard again,” Xingqiu says matter of factly. At this point, it wasn’t even necessary to ask it as a question. Xingqiu knew Chongyun well enough to know.
“Stay here,” he orders, guiding Chongyun to the edge of his bed where he sets him down to sit. Xingqiu begins to make his way out of the room before turning on his heel. “And don’t lie down. Father will be furious if he sees dirt stains on my sheets.”
Chongyun hums an acknowledgement and Xingqiu notes the way the boy’s body leans precariously, as if he was naturally gravitated towards the comfort of the silken sheets and pillows that were familiar to him. Quickly, Xingqiu leaves. From downstairs, he snatches a basin and snags a washcloth from the nearby bathroom. He also remembers to grab the bowl of soup (now thoroughly luke-warm) that he had sat out to cool for Chongyun hours earlier.
Though Chongyun didn’t visit every night, Xingqiu still set some sort of sustenance out for him as an “in case of emergency.” With the now increasing number of night-time visits the exorcist made to Xingqiu’s housing, the extra meal became a part of the routine: Chongyun would lumber his way up to Xingqiu’s bedroom (sometimes by means of the window which was two stories high— and Chongyun insisted was easier than sneaking in through the front door), sometimes just to visit him, other times because he’d recently returned from an expedition and was tired and “wanted Xingqiu’s company.” Xingqiu would welcome him in, and then feed him.
But more often than not, Chongyun would crawl up to visit Xingqiu and the two would silently hold one another until they fell asleep. And, maybe also visited because he knew it meant free food.
When Xingqiu returns to his bedroom, he sets the bowl of soup in Chongyun’s hands which seem to subconsciously latch onto the pottery.
“Eat,” Xingqiu says simply when Chongyun shows no means of picking the spoon up.
Xingqiu then pads away to fill the basin with water, running the inside of his wrist under the stream to ensure it wasn’t too warm. He comes back, placing the water at the base of his bed. To his surprise, the bowl he’d given Chongyun not even one minute prior is empty, sitting on the bedside table.
Xingqiu sits down beside Chongyun and brings one knee up to rest on the sheets. Chongyun immediately leans right into him, forehead knocking against Xingqiu’s shoulder.
“Chongyun,” Xingqiu sighs, bringing his hands up to cup the other boy’s face and pulling him back so they could face one another. His thumb rubs underneath an icy eye, dirt smudging slightly. Chongyun’s eyes are heavily lidded, blinking slowly at Xingqiu.
“You kept the silk flower,” Chongyun mutters softly.
“Huh?”
Chongyun nods at the vase sitting on Xingqiu’s table. Inside, the silk flower the boy had given the swordsman months ago stands tall, shaded by shadows that line the walls of the bedroom. With how delirious he seemed, Xingqiu was surprised Chongyun even noticed it.
Xingqiu raises a brow. “How’d you know it was the one you gave me?”
“Dunno. Just knew, I guess,” Chongyun says, swaying into Xingqiu’s palms, slurring, “Was’t always there?”
Xingqiu nods softly. “Yeah I… I used a special food the Guild uses to raise our silk flowers to keep it alive.”
Chongyun hums, dipping back into Xingqiu’s shoulder, arms loosely finding his waist. “Glad you kept it.”
“Of course I kept it.” Smiling softly, Xingqiu runs a hand through Chongyun’s hair. “It was a gift from you.”
Chongyun sighs deeply, saying something Xingqiu can’t hear.
“Hey, I know you’re tired, dearest, but let me first clean you up and then you can sleep, okay?” Xingqiu brings his hands back up to Chongyun’s face.
The boy in his hands hums, leaning further into Xingqiu. Xingqiu can’t stifle the small breath of laughter that comes through his nose. He then twists down to grab the washcloth, dipping it into the water and wringing it out slightly. He gestures to Chongyun’s hoodie and the boy struggles somewhat to take it off, leaving Xingqiu to assist him by pulling it over his head. Carefully, the gloves are removed, as well as the golden cuff around Chongyun’s wrist, the bandages. Then, with feather light movements, Xingqiu dabs away at the streaks of dirt littered across the boy’s face and arms. With each stroke, Chongyun seems to grow impossibly sleepier, leaning further in with every touch, eyes fluttering closed, his breathing slowing.
“Your hands nice,” Chongyun says at some point.
With gentle fingers, Xingqiu lifts light blue bangs from Chongyun’s forehead, bringing the cloth and wiping away at the hopefully-not-blood-like stuff.
“I told you to be careful,” Xingqiu whispers delicately, frowning when the cloth comes back with a deep, dark puddle. It’s hard to tell what color it is with only the dim lantern beside him to light up the bedroom.
Chongyun makes a noise, as if roused from sleep by his words. “I was.”
“This isn’t your blood, is it?” Xingqiu asks, bringing the cloth into Chongyun’s view.
Chongyun squints at it, blinking once. Twice. Then he shrugs. “I… I think I banged my head against… something.”
“Chongyun—“
“It didn’t hurt,” Chongyun protests weakly, eyes finding Xingqiu’s. His eyes drift away. “Much…”
Xingqiu exhales slowly, setting the cloth down back into the metal bucket and bringing his hands to Chongyun’s shoulders. “You promised me you’d be careful.”
Chongyun frowns. “Can’t I just sleep now?”
With a huff, Xingqiu nods, deciding not to be offended by the fact Chongyun ignored his statement. “Yes. But let me wash your hair. And you have to change into clean clothes first.”
Xingqiu dunks the cloth into the bucket again, rubbing it around Chongyun’s head to remove a bit of the stench of mud. Chongyun’s head bobs back and forth with the movement, and the job isn’t perfect, but at least he wouldn’t smell bad.
Xingqiu stands, his feet guiding him over to his drawer where he pulls out an extra pair of sleep wear that had come to exist simply because of Chongyun’s frequent visits. He hands them to Chongyun, picking up the basin and cloth before he leaves the room. When he returns, Chongyun is under a thin sheet, the heavier duvets having been shoved up against the other side of the bed. His head is buried in the bed’s left pillow— the one he had claimed on that first night they shared a bed. Quiet breathing echoes across the silent threshold.
Carefully, as to not disturb him much, Xingqiu clambers over Chongyun to the other side of the bed, dunking himself under the sheets. Almost instantly, Chongyun shifts closer to him, nuzzling his head into the crook of Xingqiu’s neck and making a pleated noise against the boy’s nightshirt. A hand is brought to Chongyun’s hair, fingers curling gently in a well practiced motion.
“You’re awfully clingy tonight,” Xingqiu teases, voice muffled against fluffy hair. “Not that I mind, though. I rather enjoy this side of you.”
Chongyun doesn’t squirm like he usually does against Xingqiu’s torments, most likely out of lack of energy. Even still, his words still make Xingqiu’s heart skip a beat.
“I missed you,” he breathes against Xingqiu’s neck, hugging him somewhat closer.
Oh.
They hadn’t been apart for more than eight hours. Just one day, really. But given they now spent almost every waking hour glued to each other’s hips, Xingqiu wasn’t surprised that Chongyun had begun to feel lonely during his commission work earlier that day. Xingqiu, too, had missed Chongyun's presence by his side. It makes him bury his mouth further into Chongyun’s hair, kissing him there lightly.
“Yeah, me too.”
After that, Chongyun doesn’t say anything, but Xingqiu feels the way his nose brushes against Xingqiu’s neck and it’s all the response he needs.
For now, they’d just sleep and be each other’s source for recharging. And so, with that, Xingqiu takes a deep breath in, inhaling the faint scent of qingxin that lingers in Chongyun’s hair and skin, and closes his eyes, feeling the way the other boy’s heartbeat thrums against his chest.