Work Text:
Yu Liang opens his eyes at the sound of approaching footsteps amidst the distant bustle of Fangyuan city. Shixiong is sprightly despite being over a decade his senior, Instructor Bai Chuan a little slower several steps behind.
“You can't go on like this,” shixiong says without preamble, but they both know better than to take the chair, Shi Guang's chair, next to him.
“I'm a retiree,” he ripostes. “Relaxing outside my Go salon is a retiree thing to do.” And here, he can reminisce, he can watch the few kids coming by, carrying on their legacy.
“Not like this,” shixiong argues. “All you do is come here and go home. If you leave home at all.”
“Have you been eating right?” Instructor Bai Chuan adds. “You've lost so much weight.”
“Shi Guang wouldn't w—”
“Don't,” he cuts in sharply. “Don't.”
Only here, seeing their shared passion living on, seeing future generations reenact their memories, does it feel like time is moving forward again. For so long now, it's felt like he was living in reverse.
●○
“I'm afraid,” Shi Guang confesses as soon as they're back in the car, and Yu Liang doesn't think he's ever heard these exact words from his partner in their forty-odd years together.
It started with worsening forgetfulness, and Shi Guang just joked about getting old, but Yu Liang was, of course, the first to notice when it started affecting his Go.
“Retire,” he suggests — the doctors said medication could only slow the deterioration.
Shi Guang whirls around. “But the Qisheng—”
“That's exactly why.” He takes his husband's hands, squeezes them. “Didn't you say you want everyone to remember the successor to Bai Ziqiu, to Chu Ying, as the greatest Go player who ever lived? I do, too. I want them to remember you as the longest reigning Qisheng, the undisputed world champion, the man who beat AlphaGo. Call it cowardice if you will. But to see you lose to this... I can't bear it.”
“Yu Liang...” Shi Guang slumps into him, despairing, and he wraps his arms tightly around his spouse. “What will you do?”
“Retire, too, of course,” the twenty-year Mingren says simply. “What meaning is there in a world without you?”
○●
They set their affairs in order, sell the house and move into assisted living. Go professionals worldwide express their regrets; journalists come for interviews; friends and students visit and send gifts in turn. They read, walk in the garden, play Go and watch TV. Occasionally, he drops by the Go Salon and their favourite shops. In all, life goes on as usual, aside from medical check-ups replacing professional matches.
Until the morning Shi Guang wakes up, alarmed. “Yu Liang, aren't we late for the Roewe Cup?!”
Beneath his reading glasses, Yu Liang pinches the bridge of his nose. “That was six years ago,” the last time they held that tournament.
“S—” Shi Guang freezes. “Yu Liang, that's not funny.”
“No,” he agrees, burying his face in his partner's shoulder, “it's not,” as he begins to cry.
●○
“Hey.”
Shi Guang smiles, soft; blinding like this, backlit by the dappled sunlight, with their noses almost touching. “Hey.”
“What's the last thing you remember?” They've started this ritual of sorts, asking every morning, but he doesn't know when they'll be forced to stop.
Shi Guang's memories are like the sand in an hourglass, trickling away day by day, and it haunts him that no one knows the rate at which they go, that there's no way to tell how much is left.
“Mm...” The other contemplates it, then beams. “Beating you to win the Ing Cup.” The rest of the years, the title match was against someone else, so it could only be the one from nine years ago.
He smacks his partner's hip to hide his distress. “Trust you to remember that and not that I won the next year.”
“Oh, I do.” Shi Guang giggles, rubbing their noses. “It's just that you won most of those, and winning against you is always special.”
He pecks his honey-tongued husband on the lips, focuses on the positive. “Every game with you is special,” no matter how many times they've played. How many couples can say that they're just as in love today as they were forty-five years ago?
“That's true. Guess what else I remember?”
He smiles, tucks a lock of thinning hair behind his beloved's ear. “Winning the last Breitling Pair Go Cup with me the year before?” They won for so many years that they were practically the face of Breitling in the professional Go world.
“Well, yes, but more like,” Shi Guang shifts atop him, “what we did in the hotel the morning after.”
“Ack.” He laughs as his spouse pins his hands on either side of his head and rocks their hips together. It's always been easy to want Shi Guang, and he steals another kiss, deeper this time. Still, “Slow down,” he teases, “we're not twenty anymore, and you're still heavy.”
“Hmph.” Shi Guang nips the tip of his nose and retorts, “We weren't twenty then either,” kissing his neck, and even if they don't have the stamina they used to, he can't deny that he's eager to savour as much as he can.
“All right, all right; I'll try to keep up.”
Who knows how much longer he can anyway?
○●
“Yu Liang, who's here?”
Their visitors exchange glances and quickly hide their dismay as he forces a smile. Going to his partner's side, he wraps an arm around the other's waist just as Shi Guang stumbles — it's been happening more often lately, so he's too worried to visit the Go Salon as often as he used to.
“They're our students. You don't even remember Yijun?”
The bespectacled young man bows. “Shifu.” Master Sang Yuan's grandson was their first disciple, probably heard more bickering than proper lessons and started the conspiracy theory that they let each other keep their respective titles on purpose. Believe it or not, though, although they've swapped and lost the Tianyuan, Guoshou and other titles before, somehow they've held on to Qisheng and Mingren respectively for so many years that their names are practically synonymous with the titles.
“We have students?” Shi Guang exclaims, awed, as he's guided to the couch.
“Of course we do,” he forges ahead although his smile falters. “You had a crowd lining up to learn from you as soon as you won your second title.” He even had to put his foot down at a dozen, or they may as well have started their own dojo, given the horde of hopefuls clamouring to be apprenticed to the Binary Stars of Go.
“Had to prove it wasn't a fluke, eh? I bet nobody ever thought your wins were flukes.”
Well, that's true, but “You're the popular one, though.” Side-eyeing the kids, he adds, “I heard many people didn't even dare ask me,” and they duck their heads, embarrassed.
“Aww...” Shi Guang places a placating kiss on his cheek. “They just don't know you're a total softie.”
“Only with you,” Yinghua mutters reflexively and squeaks when Yu Liang shoots her a sharp look. She and Yueyin run the Go salon together now that Qingmei-jie has retired, so that also makes him her boss.
“As it should be!” His husband chuckles, then cracks a sheepish grin. “Well, you've heard how it is. Sorry I can't remember anything. Tell me about yourselves again?”
So they do — fighting back their tears to introduce themselves anew to their favourite shifu.
“I'm rubbish at teaching,” Shi Guang always said with a laugh —that's why he co-opted Yu Liang into jointly taking disciples— but he's always had a way with people, and Yu Liang may have done most of the actual Go teaching, but Shi Guang's the one everyone adores like a parent, the one they confide in, the one who shared their highs and lows.
Even now, everyone's all smiles again, trading funny stories and happy memories. What was supposed to be a brief solemn visit turns into hours of laughter, and they finish all the gift snacks they brought. He's about to turn on the lights when the knock on the door comes. It's Dr Zhang on duty today, here for this week's check-up, and the kids briskly pack up, excusing themselves.
“Hey, didn't you say it's my birthday soon?”
“Yeah,” says Xitao, the youngest, “in three weeks.” He's the most like Yu Liang, the one everyone says is a prodigy.
“Yu Liang, do they allow parties here?”
“As expected, shifu,” Liyan says with a laugh the others echo. “Even if the sky was falling down, you'd want fourteen birthday parties a year.” He's the most like Shi Guang — lots of interests besides Go. Unfortunately, he isn't quite as talented, so his progress up the ranks has been slow.
Yu Liang turns to Dr Zhang in question who says, “Well, not in here per se, but you can use the hall downstairs.”
Shi Guang cheers. “That's settled then. You'll all come? Maybe tell me all about yourselves again?”
“Yeah!” Yueyin gasps, wiping her eyes as the rest nod along. “I'll bake your favourite cake, too!”
●○
“I'm sorry,” Shi Guang whispers as he's woken by wet clothes and sheets.
Oh. He was warned to expect this. “It's okay.”
“I—it won't happen again.”
“I know. They've got something for this. It'll be okay.”
“You're d—di—grossed out; I know you are!” Shi Guang wails, bursting into tears. “At this a—”
“No,” he interrupts firmly, tightening his embrace. “No, I'm not. Don't put words in my mouth. Let's just go shower, all right? C'mon.”
As he helps Shi Guang up and to the bathroom, Yu Liang presses the call button for housekeeping. It's true that he's throwing out these sets of clothes, but by tomorrow, Shi Guang likely won't remember they ever owned them anyway.
○●
“Mom didn't make these.”
It's the Winter Solstice, and they're eating tāngyuán, but of course Mum didn't make it — she passed away sixteen years ago.
“Why isn't she here with us anyway? And where's Mum and Dad?”
They passed away twelve and eleven years ago respectively, but he doesn't want to upset Shi Guang on what has otherwise been a lovely day.
“My parents went to Japan, remember?” he says instead. “Their flight got delayed, so they will only reach home tomorrow.” Recalling a lie Shi Guang once used, he adds, “And Mum said she had some urgent business to meet your father about, but the train tickets back today were sold out, so she'll only arrive tomorrow, too.”
“Oh.” Shi Guang pouts, and it's still adorable after all these years, even with some wrinkles. “If she went to find my dad, why didn't she just bring me along?”
“Do you even want to meet him?”
The other pauses to think, then shrugs. “That's true. If he only wants to know me now that I'm famous, then I'm better off never meeting him anyway.” He resumes eating. “These are still good, though.”
“Of course.” He smiles, heart heavy — thankfully, Shi Guang never even suspects duplicity, never tries to call anyone or verify his white lies. “It's from your favourite dessert shop.”
His partner lights up, leans into his side. “You're so good to me, Yu Liang. It's enough that you're here.”
He wraps his arms around his spouse and hums, yes, “I'll always be here.”
●○
“You playing?”
A breeze picks up, tousles their greying hair, and he winds an arm around his husband's waist on the garden chair as Shi Guang leans into his side to look over his shoulder.
“Mmhm.”
Mostly, these days, he plays on Weida, or with Shen Yilang, Hong He, Mu Qingchun and the others when they visit. Sometimes, he plays at the Go salon, too; sits at their usual table and tells people about all the silly arguments he used to have with his partner over teaching games. Of course he still plays with Shi Guang, even if he has to go easy to match now, and he often wonders if his partner can tell, how much the other does or doesn't retain.
“Th— Good.” Shi Guang recently started struggling with speech and things like counting, but he still seems capable of understanding Go to a certain degree. Maybe that's all that matters.
“Here.” A quivering finger points at an intersection like he does when they play —Yu Liang places the stones for him now that he can't properly hold them anymore— and sometimes, he still has bursts of insight like these. Or maybe it's instinct. The retired Qisheng was always amazing at speed Go.
“It's not fair of you to help, you know,” he teases as he obligingly plays there.
“Ca—h—sorry.”
He kisses the pout away, then places another on his partner's brow. “It's okay. Just once, our secret.”
His opponent responds, and Shi Guang gasps, “Ah, bad,” but it's the correct play. It just takes reading about thirty moves ahead to see its value.
Come to think of it, Shi Guang was always like this —inexperience and occasional deep insight, memories of what Chu Ying would do alongside his own fledgling understanding— and the déjà vu makes him smile. It's still heartbreaking to see all those hard-earned Dan levels fade away, to see the retired world champion space out even mid-game now, but he'll take what he can get.
He's plenty grateful that Shi Guang hasn't forgotten him.
○●
“Uncle, y—look s—like my hu—b—friend.”
“U—uncle?” He knew this was coming, but it doesn't soften the sting of reality. “How old do you think you are?” he retorts, recovering.
“I, thirty!” Shi Guang announces cheerfully, then pauses, frowning. “Thir...one? Four? Nine?”
“Shi Guang,” he takes his husband's hands, holds up their rings for the other to see. “It's me, Yu Liang.”
Familiar brows furrow. “Yu Liang? How... so old?”
“You're not young yourself, you know?”
“O— Yo— Huh?”
He cradles his partner close, kisses confused frown lines away. “Do you trust me?”
“Always,” comes instantly, and Yu Liang blinks his tears away. “I— I— wh— promised! I promised.”
“Yes, we promised. So let's go to the bathroom.” He shifts, so he can help Shi Guang up — walking is hard now, but shuffling along is still possible with assistance.
“Why? D'need.”
No, Shi Guang just can't tell anymore, but he only says, “Let's go anyway. We'll shower together like always, and I'll tell you everything.”
●○
The doctors warned him that personality changes are common, but it's jarring to see Shi Guang turn paranoid, to see him jump at the knock on the door and cower behind him on the couch when Dr Yang and her nurse, Miss Lei, are allowed in.
“Wh—who?”
“She's a doctor,” he explains gently, rubbing his spouse's back soothingly. “She and her nurse are here to check on our health. It's just a check, right?”
Dr Yang confirms, but Shi Guang still shakes his head and burrows into Yu Liang's side.
“It's okay, Shi Guang. I'll be right here with you the whole time. See, I'll even go first.”
He turns to the doctor, and she plays along, gives him a basic check. It does calm his partner down to see him cooperating with a harmless inspection, and Shi Guang allows the doctor to check on him, makes an effort to follow her instructions and answer her questions, although it's clear he doesn't understand them all.
“All right,” she says, turning back to Yu Liang when she's done with her more thorough examination. “Has he been taking his meds?”
“Yes, I've made sure of that.”
“Great.” She smiles, scribbling on her notepad. “It's wonderful that you have such a good relationship.”
He nods — he's seen their neighbours, the other patients, crawling away from visitors, from their own loved ones, now strangers they no longer recognize. At least, once he's proven his identity, his partner trusts him completely and will obediently eat, drink and do whatever and whenever he asks.
“Will you see that he comes by for a scan later?” Oh, it's that time of the year again.
“Of course.”
“All right, you both take care. See you later.”
It's not till the two ladies have left that he realizes Shi Guang has fallen strangely silent. “Hey,” he murmurs, stroking silvery hair. “What's wrong?” When Shi Guang doesn't immediately answer, he adds, “You know you can tell me anything.”
“I... sick, no?” That small voice makes his chest ache, and it's hard to breathe. “Body d—s—weird.”
“Yes.” He decides the truth is best. “You've been sick for a long time.”
“What? Sick how?”
“You've been forgetting things. Now you don't even know when you last ate, right?”
“Last...?” Shi Guang shakes his head. “What? How?”
Yu Liang thinks over their conversation for a moment, then guesses, “You mean how long? What is a long time?”
The other tilts his head, then nods.
“It's been...” what, “seven years now?” Even Shi Guang's oldest friends rarely visit these days — his spouse doesn't recognize them anymore and takes poorly to 'strangers.' Shixiong, Instructor Bai Chuan and their students still regularly drop by, but they're mostly here to see him.
His partner frowns — numbers rarely make sense nowadays, so maybe Shi Guang doesn't know what he means, but then “Wh—why... you here?”
Yu Liang gasps, unprepared for the sharp stab of pain. “Shi Guang.” He takes his unresponsive husband by the shoulders, eyes stinging. “Shi Guang.” He cups that precious face, now morose, makes the other look at him. “Shi Guang, I love you. You're my husband. Of course I'm here. Where would I go? There's nowhere else I'd rather be.”
Shi Guang starts crying. “H—hard... You... better.”
He pulls his spouse into a tight hug. “No. No, I'm fortunate. Fortunate that we've been together for so long that no matter how much you forget, you still remember me; you still love me.”
“Y—Yu Liang,” his partner sobs, returning the embrace as best errant arms can. “Important.”
He nods, smiling through his tears. “Yes, important. That's why I can't miss a single moment with you.” He doesn't know how many they have left, and in his heart of hearts, he's terrified. Terrified that, one day, Shi Guang will forget even the day they first met, and his name won't mean a thing anymore.
“A—yu—fo— Always! Always love.”
“Please,” he begs even though he knows it's futile, “promise you'll never forget me.”
Shi Guang nods, clinging on tightly. “Love Yu Liang. Important. Never forget.”
○●
“Shi Guang?!”
Yu Liang drops their papers, rushes to his spouse's side. Shi Guang is on the floor, looking distraught. He'd only been away for fifteen minutes, sorting out this year's paperwork at the office.
“Shi Guang, are you okay? What happened?”
“I... L— Friend. Ch—c— Missing...” The other looks at him then and flinches away. “U—uncle? You, who?”
He sits down, takes his partner's hands and holds up their rings. “Shi Guang, it's me; it's Yu Liang.”
His husband frowns. “Lie. Yu Liang s— li— y— Old. Not old.”
He slumps — this day has finally come. Before he can think of another way, Shi Guang starts looking around wildly, trying to move.
“Shi Guang, please, just tell me what's wrong. Let me help you.”
Usually gentle eyes narrow, but perhaps unable to see any other way out of their predicament, Shi Guang relents — “Missing friend.”
“Friend?” But if Shi Guang were looking for him, the other would ask what he'd done to Yu Liang when disbelieving his earlier claim. Maybe Gu Yu, Wu Di or Xueming? But then why would he be frantically searching the room? There's no reason for them to be... oh. It finally dawns on him as old memories come rushing back. “You mean Chu Ying?”
Shi Guang whirls on him unsteadily. “You know?!”
“About Chu Ying? Yes, you told me.”
His partner blinks, then leans closer, scrutinising his face. “Really Yu Liang?”
He nods, then adds, “I've never run through the rain holding anyone else's hand.”
Shi Guang laughs, lacing their fingers. “Why old?”
“You're old, too, you know. We've been together for fifty years.”
He lifts their wrinkled hands again, and Shi Guang properly looks this time, then gets upset all over again.
“Why... body weird?” The other hits his own thigh with his free hand. “Ca—wo—no feel, no listen.”
Yu Liang tugs his husband into his side, pressing the call button on their tags for assistance as he gently restrains both hands — he can't lift Shi Guang by himself. “Shi Guang, you're ill. You've been ill for a while.”
His spouse leans into him, head resting on his shoulder. “Mom?”
“Tomorrow,” he lies. “We can't all live here. She asked me to take care of you. Maybe she'll visit tomorrow.”
Shi Guang nods slowly. “Work. Always work.”
“Yes,” Mum was always working.
“Ch—Chu Ying?”
“He had to go home, you said.” Well, more like that's what they theorized later when they found out that there was another supernova the night Chu Ying disappeared for the last time.
“G—gone?” Shi Guang asks, voice small and choked, and he tightens his hold.
“I think so. But you still have me. You'll always have me.”
That's when a bunch of staff show up at the door he left ajar, and Shi Guang jumps, tries to hide behind him.
“It's okay,” he coos, rubbing the other's back. “It's okay, Shi Guang. They're here to help. Nobody will hurt you. I won't let anybody hurt you.”
Thankfully, that seems to suffice, and Shi Guang allows the staff to carry him to the bathroom to clean him up and check him for injuries, then back to the bed, although he grips Yu Liang's hand the whole time.
When the staff leave, Yu Liang closes the door behind them, then picks his fallen documents up and files them tidily away in the drawer. Next, he pockets his most treasured gift and fetches a yellow cardboard box from the cupboard to bring it over to the bed.
“I thought you might like to see these.” He crawls under the covers to sit beside his partner and opens up the box between them. Inside is every Chu-Ying-related thing Shi Guang ever owned — fan, books, pictures, even the antique Go board from Grandpa's old storeroom.
Shi Guang smiles fondly, struggles to run his fingers over the items, lets Yu Liang help him flip through the books. “Kept for me?” he asks when they're done, shifting closer again.
“Of course. I know how precious they are to you.” He fishes the blue watch out of his pocket — it stopped working long ago, of course, but he's kept it clean all these years. “I always kept this, too. Do you remember it?”
Soft eyes light up. “I g—ga—give you. After game. You lo—k—cry.”
“Yes,” he says, drawing his beloved into his arms. “Thank you for caring about me ever since then. I treasure it even now.”
Shi Guang snuggles into him, content. “Thank you. Love. T—caring me. Always. You... Enough.”
“Yes, I love you, too.” He buries his face in the remains of soft hair. “You've always been enough for me. I never needed anyone or anything else.”
“N—even Go?” his partner teases, and he's glad Shi Guang still knows how to do that.
“That's a part of you, too. You and your Go are everything to me. So stay with me, Shi Guang,” he pleads, he prays. “Always.”
Shi Guang nods, jerky, halting, like any movement he can still manage now. “P—promise.”
●○
“M—morning... Grandpa who?”
“G—grandpa...?” he echoes. Oh no. “I'm Yu Liang,” he tries hopefully, and Shi Guang cracks up.
“Lie you,” the other says, giggling. “Yu Liang not old!”
Okay, that's a little better than the worst case scenario, so he forces a smile and plays along. “Since you're so smart, how about you guess who I am then?”
“Oh. Hm... You look him. You... Yu Liang grandpa!”
In spite of himself, he bursts out laughing. “Okay, but if I'm Yu Liang's grandpa, and Yu Liang listens to me, does that mean you'll listen to me, too?”
Shi Guang seems to think about it, then “Okay,” he decides. “Yu Liang b—x—fierce. S—sc—scold me! If no listen you.”
He chuckles helplessly, patting the other's head as he calls for assistance. “Okay. Then let's get you clean and ready for brunch, all right?”
“Mm!”
Perhaps due his current mental age, Shi Guang is surprisingly amenable to being carried and bathed by the staff, docile and playful unlike before. It, at once, fills Yu Liang with relief and dismay, freeing him up to pick out brunch, but gripping him in cold dread. How much? How much sand is left in that hourglass? When will they finally run out? And what happens then?
“Yu Liang!”
He turns to see the staff leaving and Shi Guang staring at him, sombre.
“Is everything okay?” he asks, approaching the wheelchair his spouse uses during the day now that walking requires more motor coordination than the other can muster.
Shi Guang mumbles, and he leans down to hear better — sometimes it's nothing, idle sounds from an absent mind, but sometimes...
“Really you.”
Oh. “Yes, it's really me.” He takes Shi Guang's hands, sitting on the nearby couch.
“S—sister say, Yu Liang best hus... what... sick? Long? You t— care always. S—sad you if re—no, forget.”
He wipes his beloved's tears away with his fingers. The staff here are well-trained at communicating with patients and explaining things to them.
“You didn't forget me. I just look different now.”
“S—sorry.” Shi Guang tries to shift closer, but doesn't quite manage, so he closes the distance instead, embraces the man he's loved since they were the children his spouse remembers. “Sorry!”
“Don't be. It's not your fault. This isn't what either of us wanted or planned for, but we're still together. We've been together for sixty years, can you believe that? You became Qisheng, I became Mingren, and we even found the Hand of God.”
He's sure Shi Guang found it beating the AI, and that one year he came dangerously close to losing the Mingren to Shi Guang, he's sure he found it, too, somehow turning the game around just enough to defend his title. He still remembers that game, that hand, 8-6, as if it shone with mystical light, as if the fan his partner held hovered over that intersection, and once the game was over, they just stood and embraced each other for so long that someone had to remind them of the press conference.
“Hand of God real?”
“Yes. Yes, it's real. We found it. Together like we always said.”
“Chu Ying, sorry.”
He laughs, kissing his partner's temple. “I'm sure he won't blame you. None of us were sure it was real until we found it.”
“Say.”
“Hm?”
“All. Oh! Tell. Tell all. I forget.”
“Oh,” he smiles, wiping his spouse's face again, “of course.” There's a knock on the door, so he says, “Wait,” and goes to open it. It's a staff member delivering their brunch, and he takes it to the table, then wheels Shi Guang over. “Let's eat first.” He tests the temperature of the udon he ordered, then scoops some to feed his partner. It comes broken into little pieces here, since many residents can no longer properly chew.
“Why udon?” Shi Guang pouts. “Not mee.”
Yu Liang snorts. “Heavens, you were always like this? Well, the ramen isn't very good here, but I'll order some from your favourite store for dinner, so will you eat this first?”
The other brightens, “Mm,” and opens his mouth, “Aah...” for the spoonful.
“Good. There's a story to this, too,” he adds as he continues to feed Shi Guang.
“Hm?”
“Udon is the first thing you learned to cook. For me. For my birthday. So it's very special to me.”
Shi Guang beams, but asks, “What cook?”
So he explains —there are many words Shi Guang doesn't comprehend anymore— then wheels Shi Guang to the garden for a stroll. As they walk, he talks about their lives, about the sixty years they shared, about the happy memories they made together. It's nice to reminisce, to see his husband smile and rest a cheek affectionately on his hand while listening. Shi Guang spaces out, of course —it happens often these days— and probably understands less than half his words, but no questions come, so Yu Liang just uses those as water breaks and resumes whenever his partner says, “Tell,” again.
When evening falls, they go back to their apartment, and Shi Guang is delighted to be fed ramen, even if it must be all cut up. He's wholly cooperative when the staff come to bathe him and carry him back to bed, but struggles to turn and snuggle close. No matter what changes or how much Shi Guang forgets, they always sleep like this — cuddled in each other's arms.
“Yu Liang best,” Shi Guang says again, puckering up for a chaste kiss that Yu Liang obliges. “Happy.”
“Same,” he says, but the fear is back again. Every night, he falls asleep wondering if he'll be forgotten the next day, and now they're close, so close to the end, to the time they first met. Will Shi Guang finally forget that, too? Or...
“Love Yu Liang,” his partner says, nuzzling in contentedly, and he switches off the lights to hide his tears.
“Yes,” he whispers, “Shi Guang, I love you, too. You'll always stay with me, won't you?”
“Mm, always!” Shi Guang agrees lightly — of course he doesn't understand, but what does it matter? They're powerless against this looming inevitability.
Yu Liang squeezes his eyes shut and tightens his embrace. He can only cherish every single moment that remains.
○●
“Yu Liang.”
He opens his eyes — the moon is high in the sky, and as always, he's in Shi Guang's arms, lying nose to nose.
“How are our students doing?”
His heart sinks — it's been so long since Shi Guang recognized them, remembered them, and he's heard... right at the end, sometimes they get moments of perfect lucidity.
But “Good,” he answers anyway. “Yijun won Qisheng last year. Xitao won this year's LG Cup. Liyan finally reached Ninth Dan, so that's everyone.”
“Good,” Shi Guang nods, “That's good. Thanks for always taking care of everything.”
“D—” He chokes up. “Don't go. Please.”
Shi Guang smiles, wry, just like that time outside their first Hokuto Cup preliminaries, and he's been enchanted for so long now, a lifetime. “Haven't I burdened you long enough?”
His vision swims. “Shi Guang, you are the love of my life. How could you ever be a burden?”
The other leans in to kiss him, sweet and heartfelt as their first time, and his eyes flutter shut. “Thank you. You've given me so many years of happiness.”
“Not enough.” He shakes his head, inhaling shakily. “You promised you'd never let me go.”
“Oh, Yu Liang,” Shi Guang sighs, cradling him close. “You know the truth is I'm already gone. I'm sorry. I never wanted to leave you behind. I kn—”
“Then don't.”
His partner stiffens, then sighs again. “It's my fault, isn't it? You've taken care of me for so long now; that's all you know anymore.”
“No,” he sobs, face buried in his beloved's neck. “I told you — in my world, you've always been the sun. Watching the sunset held some nostalgic beauty, but you can't ask me to live in an endless night, Shi Guang; you can't.”
“It's not like that,” Shi Guang protests, stroking his hair. “There's still the kids; there's still Go. Don't talk like you have nothing to live for. You're just like Chu Ying, aren't you? You could play for a thousand years, and it wouldn't be enough.”
“Yes,” he agrees, “I'm just like Chu Ying. I could play for three lifetimes and never tire of Go, but I can't play without you.”
The other huffs in fond exasperation. “Good heavens, what am I to do with you?”
“Shi G—”
“Okay, all right!” The arms around him tighten. “Sheesh, it's impossible to say no to you.” Another sigh. “Well, hold me then,” and he does, perhaps painfully, but Shi Guang doesn't complain. “That's it,” his partner says instead. “I'll keep my promises. It's my turn to take care of you now. We're binary stars, right? We can't escape each other's gravity. We'll be together forever.”
“Yes,” he breathes, settling in, heart at last light as a feather. “Forever.”