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Chongyun was labeled a handful of things during his lifetime. An exorcist was the most common, the second being a martial artist. Sometimes, he was called a fake, other times just that one customer at Wanmin who refused to eat anything spicy despite the restaurant priding itself on such dishes. He was also an only child. A son. A friend. Best friend, even.
One thing Chongyun was not, however, was a dancer. So, naturally, when Xingqiu requested to dance with him, he was rather confused.
They had left the city after eating dinner, climbing an old but familiar stone path up to a hill that overlooked the harbour. It wasn’t something they did often, given that Xingqiu was called home rather early on most evenings. But some nights, such as the one they currently shared, the rebellious boy would smirk at Chongyun, wave a dismissive hand, and provide some lame excuse. This time, his reasoning for staying out longer was just a vague, “Father won’t notice this time.” Before Chongyun could even ask what that meant, Xingqiu had grinned widely and grabbed his hand, dragging him up the mossy cobblestone.
Once they had reached the peak, settling themselves in their usual places on the grass, Xingqiu pulled out the book he had recently finished and recounted the story in all its glory. Perhaps it was the scene Xingqiu had retold about the two main characters dancing that prompted his own request to do so with Chongyun. Perhaps it was the silence the two immersed themselves in later, the moon rising high above the clouds and the stars freckling the dark expanse above, silently calling to both of them. Perhaps it was the celebration they could hear near one end of the city that sparked the bookworm’s imagination, tiny lanterns lighting up a home somewhere down far below them, amiable music from erhus, flutes, and accents of a piano finding their ears.
Whatever the reason, Chongyun didn’t know. Perhaps it was just a spur of the moment thing, kindled by nothing more than the fantasies of young desires.
“Did you know that we are made of stardust, Chongyun?” Xingqiu asks, head tilted up to study the darkened sky.
Confused, Chongyun looks at him funny, raising a brow and pausing mid-lick on his popsicle.
Xingqiu sighs wistfully, “It sounds rather poetic, does it not? To think that our bodies are melded from the same contents of the stars we see right now.”
Offering a quick glance at the sky, Chongyun only shrugs, uncertain of how to respond. It sounded somewhat ridiculous, and while Xingqiu read a great deal of fantasy novels, he was also the more knowledgeable between the two, so Chongyun didn’t find the mind to question it.
Carefully, Xingqiu plucks a strand of grass from the earth, twisting it around between his thumb and index finger. “Supposedly, it’s also the stars that decide our fate. But I’m not so sure if that’s true.”
Xingqiu lowers his hand, dark lashes fluttering a few times over hazel as he blinks. They flick up to meet Chongyun. “Do you believe in fate?”
Chongyun tosses his now finished popsicle stick to the side. “I don't know.”
Xingqiu hums once, falling into silence then. Teeth find his bottom lip as he eyes what is above for a moment, tracing the outlines of the clouds. And then, as if having made a resolute decision, Xingqiu raises himself to his feet in one swift motion. Chongyun’s gaze follows him as the boy gracefully side steps to face the other and offers his hand.
“How about we play with chance, then,” Xingqiu suggests, a gentle smile playing on his lips. “Dance with me.”
And for a moment, Chongyun is stunned, mouth parted slightly in awe as he looks up, white light from the moon illuminating an ethereal halo around the navy ocean that was Xingqiu’s hair.
“What?” Chongyun splutters out, frowning up at Xingqiu. “But, I don’t know how to dance.”
With a fond huff, Xingqiu shakes his head lightly. “I don’t mean dance dancing. Not the kind you see at one of Xinyan’s concerts, anyways.”
Then, he smiles again, this time soft and tender, his eyes catching hold of Chongyun’s own and fixing him with a look that was somehow much more delicate. Much more personal, much more affectionate. It makes Chongyun’s heart rate pick up speed by the tiniest bit.
“I mean dancing,” Xingqiu explains. And the way the words fall from the swordsman’s mouth, cool and crisp like flowing waters from a river, prompt Chongyun to reach out slowly, fingers grazing the edges of even cooler skin.
“Is there really that much of a difference?” Chongyun asks, his hand slipping into Xingqiu’s.
Xingqiu snorts. “Of course there is. Come on.”
With a small grunt, Xingqiu pulls Chongyun up and forward, the latter stumbling slightly from the unsuspected lift. Xingqiu leads them out of the dark shadows of the tree behind them and into the open space in front, hand never leaving Chongyun’s. Instead, he raises their joined arms so that their hands are at shoulder height and angled out, the other finding rest on Chongyun’s shoulder. When Chongyun awkwardly finds himself standing stiff, casting a skeptical glance towards his friend, Xingqiu just laughs.
“No need to be so shy, Yun-yun,” Xingqiu teases, thumb roving over the exposed skin on the said boy’s shoulder.
It’s not the first time Chongyun is donning just his black undershirt around Xingqiu, hoodie forgotten at home. Even still, it most definitely is the first time Xingqiu has touched Chongyun there without the protective fabric. He feels a strange flush of warmth despite the cool air.
“I… I don’t,” Chongyun begins, fingers fumbling anxiously within Xingqiu’s grasp. With Xingqiu’s face so close to his own, he feels his mind go a little foggy and so he flicks his eyes down to stare at the limp hand hanging uselessly by his side.
“I’ve never done this before,” Chongyun admits sheepishly, gnawing at the inside of his lip.
“I know,” Xingqu replies rather knowingly. It makes Chongyun wonder if he hadn’t said or explained anything simply to see Chongyun all embarrassed like this.
Chongyun frowns, opening his mouth. Before the exorcist can comment on it, though, Xingqiu is extracting his hand from Chongyun’s shoulder (smug face not going unnoticed) and grabbing the boy’s free one, directing it to rest at Xingqiu’s waist. At this, Chongyun tenses for a whole new reason.
His eyes blow wide open, heart leaping up into his throat. “Um, Xingqiu…?”
“Relax,” whispers Xingqiu gently, firmly settling his palm over the back of Chongyun’s hand when the boy tries to yank it away.
Chongyun’s gaze snaps back to Xingqiu with panic. “But—”
Xingqiu rests a finger on Chongyun's lips, immediately quieting the other boy. Chongyun blinks.
With a tenderness Chongyun has only rarely heard before, Xingqiu murmurs a hushed, “It’s okay.”
Slowly, Xingqiu withdraws his hand, corners of his mouth tweaking up in a small smile. He leans forward, face bathed in the gentle caress of the moon’s light as he reaches up to brush away a strand of hair out from Chongyun’s eyes.
In his own golden irises, a question lies open. Between a flicker of worry, a scintilla of hesitancy, Xingqiu begs an answer. An answer Chongyun wasn’t sure how to provide.
And yet, it's so enticing, the way Xingqiu’s knuckles ghost over his cheek doing funny little things to Chongyun’s heart that he simply finds himself being swept away by it all.
“You’re sure?’” Chongyun finds himself whispering back, his voice fragile and doubt curling his tongue. For some reason, to speak any louder seems inappropriate.
“Of course I’m sure,” Xingqiu breathes airly. He settles his hand back down on Chongyun’s shoulder, thumb moving over the same spot as it did earlier. Chongyun subconsciously leans into it. “I was the one to ask you to dance, was I not?”
Chongyun shifts nervously. “Yes. I’m not going to be any good, though.”
“Don’t worry about that, dearest,” Xingqiu says with a laugh. “Just follow my lead.”
“Alright,” comes Chongyun’s silly, stupid reply. He’d be lying if he said his mouth did mimic Xingqiu’s grin at the nickname.
And so, they dance. Xingqiu swings them in a gentle motion, dipping their linked hands as they step around each other. They sway slowly, feet shuffling just enough to turn them both around in a small circle. It doesn’t feel like dancing and Chongyun knits his brows together because when Xingqiu had said “dancing,” this was not at all what he was expecting. Then again, Xingqiu was ultimately right when saying this dance was different from the stuff Chongyun knew of.
This waltz, this little tiptoeing around each other, was quite a contrast to the jigs performed at parties Chongyun had only heard of. It was slow, it was mellow, quiet. It was warm, too, Chongyun realizes, letting out a shaky breath with the way Xingqiu feels underneath his palms, where they hold each other’s hand.
Slowdancing, is the word that comes to mind. It's a word that’s relatively foreign to him, only gathered once or twice from a conversation Chongyun overheard between people he didn’t even know. But, as he finds himself tripping up more times than what was probably deemed normal, overestimating the pace Xingqiu is going at and accidentally losing balance on a tiny pebble wedged within the grass or miraculously managing to step on Xingqiu’s shoes, he begins to understand.
He apologizes rather nervously everytime such accidents happen, feeling the way his ears burn because he really is messy at this whole thing and they’re both really close to one another it's distracting.
Even still…
Chongyun turns his head to catch sight of the celebration taking place below them, the music that rises faintly from the occasion settling in the space between them, the space between tiny giggles and awkward movements (well, Chongyun’s awkward movements).
Maybe he doesn’t have to be good at dancing, Chongyun supposes. Maybe Xingqiu doesn’t want him to be good, given his silly grin and delight at seeing him stumble with inexperience. And maybe Chongyun didn’t want to be good at it, either, his heart flip flopping everytime Xingqiu graced him with such a lovely sight.
This dance they treat themselves to is new. And that’s okay.
Chongyun is not a dancer— that much is proven by his clunky maneuvering. But, he finds that he’s smiling. He’s smiling and laughing lightly when he messes up. The dance is gentle and soft and his heart stumbles a little more so here and there at the tiny squeezes Xingqiu gives his hand and somehow… somehow it’s all so natural feeling. It feels oddly right. It feels beautiful.
And Xingqiu, Chongyun notices, turning back from the harbour to look at his partner, has his gaze trained on something off to his side, a distant and thoughtful complexion taking over his features.
With a sigh that Xingqiu exhales, one that’s sweet and sweeps across both of their knuckles where their hands are held near their faces, Chongyun is all so suddenly hyper aware of their situation. The warmth that seeps from Xingqiu’s palm and onto his own, the gentle curve of the boy’s waist underneath silk fabric, his pulse that thrums faintly along Chongyun’s fingertips.
The stars themselves seem to weave galaxies across Xingqiu’s eyes, gold turned silver under the light of the moon. Chongyun catches sight of lips that are drawn together in a small, wistful-like grin, following down to a jawline that meets hair melting right into the night sky. It makes Chongyun want to lean in just a little bit closer. To reach out and brush the back of his hand across star kissed skin.
It’s a dangerous feeling, Chongyun knows. But he’s not so sure as to whether or not he wants to suppress the fluttering in his stomach.
When Xingqiu turns his head back to meet the exorcist’s gaze, he offers yet another smile that leaves Chongyun staring, staring, staring because Xingqiu was so…
Archons, Xingqiu was so…
So, so…
“Beautiful,” Chongyun mumbles.
Xingqiu’s eyes widen.
For a moment, Chongyun just looks right back at him, wondering if it was a trick of his mind that Xingqiu was coming closer to him. When the other simply startles a small inch backwards, cheeks dusting a shade darker, Chongyun realizes it was he who was actually leaning forward rather than the other.
“Oh,” Chongyun says dumbly, reclaiming his space. “Sorry.”
“It’s-- It’s alright,” Xingqiu stutters out with a small, nervous chuckle, eyes drifting to someplace over Chongyun’s shoulder. His grip on Chongyun tightens ever so slightly.
For a moment, the two are silent, their slow circles coming to an even slower stop as Xingqiu’s feet make smaller and smaller movements. Chongyun allows him, doing his best to match the tread of which Xingqiu is slowing down.
“Xingqiu,” Chongyun begins carefully, toes curling into his shoes as he steps around a lone pebble. He finds interest in the way their fingers slot together in the air, fitting nicely. A perfect match, at that. It makes him swallow. “Did I say something wrong?”
“Why do you say that?” Xingqiu replies just as shyly. It’s so uncharacteristic of him that it makes Chongyun turn back to stare at him.
“Because I called you beautiful,” he says tensely. “Was that wrong of me?”
Xingqiu hesitates, lip roving back and forth as he nibbles on it. Their dancing comes to a halt.
With a voice so quiet Chongyun has to strain to hear, Xingqiu breathes out, “No.”
When Xingqiu releases his grip on Chongyun’s hand, he feels a spike of worry that maybe, despite the answer of “no,” perhaps he did do something wrong after all. Such worry disappears, though, when Xingiqu glides his fingertips up Chongyun’s bicep and flits fingers across his shoulder.
“I told you, didn't I?” Xingqiu says without looking at him, eyes hazily focused as he traces small patterns across the thin seams of Chongyun’s shirt. “Let’s play with chance.” At last, Xingqiu lifts his amber gaze back up to Chongyun’s icy one. “Would you be okay with that?”
“Well, what kind of chance are you talking about?” Chongyun can hear his voice tremble.
“The kind that’s new,” Xingqiu replies vaguely, just as nervous.
Slowly, Xingqiu’s hands wound around Chongyun’s neck, both arms following suit. Chongyun stiffens, inhaling sharply as Xingqiu brings himself closer, placing his cheek upon the other’s shoulder and nudging his nose just underneath the exorcist’s jaw.
“The chance of something different, maybe,” Xingqiu says gingerly, breathlessly. Chongyun feels the way the boy’s eyelashes flutter just over his earlobe. A pause, and then, quietly, “The chance of us.”
“Yeah?” Chongyun manages, heart begging to break free from his rib cage.
“Yeah,” echoes Xingqiu.
With just as much care, Chongyun raises his own hands to wrap around Xingqiu, finding the dip of his lower back. They stand, simply embracing each other, their dance having stopped and nothing but arms wrapped around one another. The music is still playing down by the harbour, now a series of melodic thrums coming from only a single instrument.
It’s so warm, something that would normally come off as alarming for Chongyun. Oddly enough, he finds he doesn’t want to leave. He doesn’t want to let go— let go of Xingqiu, let go of whatever was happening. Briefly, Chongyun wonders if he’s dreaming.
“If the stars guide our paths,” Xingqiu ponders aloud, lips ghosting over Chongyun’s collarbone. “and we ourselves are made of stars, does that make us the deciders of our own destiny? Or do you think freewill simply doesn’t exist?”
Xingqiu’s fingers find a few strands of Chongyun’s hair, twirling themselves up into his scalp. Chongyun presses his cheek to the top of Xingqiu’s head.
Stray strands of blue tickle his chin as he says, “I’d like to think we have at least some freewill.”
“Do you think it was by our freewill we found ourselves here?” Xingqiu continues.
“I’m not sure,” Chongyun says after a moment of thought, thumb rubbing over Xingqiu’s back once.
Xingqiu lets out a breath of small laughter. “Am I boring you with my selfish indulgences, Yun-yun?”
Chongyun pouts, subconsciously hugging Xingqiu closer. “No. Why’d you think that?”
The swordsman just sighs, his own arms tightening around Chongyun’s neck. “The dancing, my questions.” Xingqiu buries his nose deeper. “This… this closeness. You’re alright with it?”
It’s terrifying, the silence that settles between them after such a simple question. Doubt creeps up and Chongyun fears saying the wrong thing. Fears his heart will spill out just enough to scare Xingqiu away, fears that he is misunderstanding it all. Misunderstanding the careful touches, the coloring in their cheeks, the wishful questions, the quaver in Xingqiu’s voice, the unfamiliar yet alluring catch in his eyes.
He fears he is misunderstanding the way Xingqiu pulls back, just enough to face Chongyun and skim the tips of their noses together. He fears the way his heart aches, chest tightening as Xingqiu looks right back at him with just the same uncertainty because, what if?
What if he was misunderstanding this all? What if he was simply letting his own fantasies carry him away?
Or what if…
“Chongyun?” Xingqiu whispers tentatively. “Would you allow me to indulge in one more selfish act?”
What if it wasn’t a misunderstanding?
He gives a nod, bobbing his head just enough to tickle Xingqiu’s nose, just barely picks up the way it makes the other smile.
Chongyun is no dancer. He never was and probably never would be. But as he feels the way Xingqiu presses close to him, feels the way his heart beats just that much quicker, feels the way Xingqiu’s hands tremble just behind his neck, sees the nervous flickering of his eyes, the hope inside him kindles brighter.
And when breath clouds over his cheeks, Chongyun waltzes for a second time that night. It’s a waltz that has no steps, no intricate pattern, no slow orbits around each other.
Xingqiu simply captures his mouth, smooth skin encompassing him in a kiss that tastes of the crisp night air.
The stars dance across his lips.