Work Text:
Historians will call them anything but.
Zhou Zishu remarked to himself of the beauty he found himself gazing at, the soft features of Wen Kexing’s face ironed out as if drawn on fabric by the finest tailor. “Very beautiful,” he complimented, playing around with his fingers as they tangled themselves in the younger’s. “Are you talking about yourself, A-Xu?” he heard Wen Kexing say, and he scoffed with a soft snarl, looking to face the gentle eyes that were looking right at him. “I’m talking about you, Lao Wen.”
He could see the small smile dancing like a flame on Wen Kexing’s face, lips twitching with delight that sparked a certain emotion – love, perhaps. “Thank you, A-Xu,” he said, tone honest and pure. “You are also very beautiful.” His eyes roamed along Zhou Zishu’s body as if to look for a reaction that will tell him anything, and the flustering motion of reddening in his cheeks made the smug expression on the other’s face light up. “Perfect, even.”
“Lao Wen,” tutted Zishu, playful in nature as he pinched the younger’s arm slightly.
The surrounding murmurs of the wind and slow churns of waterfalls kept them trapped in their own world, quiet whispers echoing in the passing fog and the colours of their conversations engaging the wildlife’s reflective music.
Carefully, as if lifting the gourd any harder would result in a horrid crash of broken ceramics, Wen Kexing picked the gourd up, feeling the weight of the liquid in his hands. “A-Xu,” he called warmly, gently pressing the pottery against the palm of his hand, “have some.” Zhou Zishu gave him a smile, moonlight glittering his facial expression, and he took hold of the alcohol as he took a sip.
The night was quiet, tranquil, the only sounds being the songs of nature and the soft hushes of their conversations. Stars were particularly bright that night, looking down upon the darkness of the world with a light of hope trailing their appearance, the moon full and yellow as it reflected the Sun’s light as its own on a lit-up night.
Subtle actions of their knees pressing against each other, their hands lingering with the other’s for more than a few seconds, and their eyes meeting for long periods of time kept them awake, fire burning in the keel as it waited for the flame to begin its heat.
“A-Xu, can I kiss you?” Wen Kexing still had his twinkle of admiration in his eyes, love flowing from the sweet tone of his voice. “May I kiss you?”
He could vaguely sense the feeling of Zhou Zishu shuffling closer – their bodies gluing with the others from the lack of distance – and he could see the vague shape of his face dangerously closing off the amount of space left in between their lips. “You may,” came the soft response, gentle and delicate, and Wen Kexing brought his hand to help guide Zhou Zishu’s chin to his. He gently nudged Zhou Zishu’s lips with his, other hand still holding on to the elder’s with a loose grip.
Their heads bumped into each other’s for a bit, a short period of time they quickly recovered as they fixed their position and twisted their necks, feelings surging control and emotions on adrenaline as their minds took over the situation.
Twilight was beginning, the moon relaxing its grip upon the sky as it drifted away from view, and the Sun made its way over with light. Yet for the two young lovers who held euphoria in their bliss, night was not yet over, and for them it will never move from their forever phase of lovers.
But history hates lovers.