Work Text:
Historians will call them anything but.
The night was colder than most, light scarce as the horizon gathered dust, air thinner in the high mountains. Kunlun watched Shen Wei with an inquisitive gaze, his eyes warm as fire when it settled along the outline of the Undergrounder’s body, shoulders slumped and his chin resting on the palm of his hand. The lollipop that was in his mouth had been beginning to feel tasteless, the sugar dissolving on the weight of his saliva, bobble of colour fading against his tongue. “Hei-paoye,” he called out, catching the other’s attention, “have you ever wondered what your future will be like?”
He could see the slightest twinkle of naivety through the shrouded night, gears churning in his head as he awaited an answer. “Not really,” he heard, voice gentle and soft. “I only wanted to free my people and the world from this war before returning to whatever I could salvage left.”
Kunlun should have expected such answer, the philosophy clear in his head, the tone pleasantly calm and in question. He gave a hum in response, unsure of what he should say next – something that he was not used to after years of extreme extroversion and curiosity – and he kept silent, eyes refocusing on the young version of Shen Wei; the one that he knew still there somewhere.
“Have you, Kunlun?” asked Shen Wei, his words slow as if he was not used to the language. “Have you ever wondered about your future?”
Zhao Yunlan, came a thought to his mind, his memories of his own life passing through each second he had allowed himself to breathe. “Not really.” Brisk, short, and a half-lie to the person he owes his several lifetimes to. “Only glimpses of my own future return to me with a feeling of reality.”
Reality that he wants to make sure can come true for the young, naïve Shen Wei. The new warrior who deserved more than scars and war.
Who should be able to live his ten thousand over years of life the way he wanted to, and did not have to feel the guilt of the world weighing upon his shoulders.
Shen Wei gave a nod in acknowledgement – the simple gesture not entirely registering in the dark. “Care for a fire?” he offered, noticing how the awkwardness eased with the dark made it harder for him to detect the other’s emotions – plastered along the creases of his facial features, they normally reside.
“Sure.”
Before he could manage to retrieve his items to start a flame, a burst of orange was ignited, the colour seemingly sprouted from a metal contraption that rested in Kunlun’s palm. “Magic,” he said, amusement in his tone from the bewildered reaction. The confusion soon became a show of happiness, a grin forming on his face. “Magic,” confirmed Shen Wei, eyes meeting Kunlun’s with pure entertainment.
Slowly, however, their gazes fell with silence, lips carefully folding themselves into half-frowns.
“Shen Wei.”
“Yes?”
“Have you ever fallen in love before?”
A blistering moment of waiting made Kunlun’s skin prickle, sweat itching by his neck. “I believe that I have.” The reply was soft, so much that Zhao Yunlan had to watch his lips to read the response. Discrete as he tried, the motion was noticed by Shen Wei – his hands restless as they fidgeted – and the mask tucked in his robes began to unravel with no care. “H-Have you?” stuttered the awed warrior, causing Kunlun to have wide eyes of delight.
“Maybe I have,” he said. “Maybe I haven’t. Maybe it’s in the future, written in the stars.”
Shen Wei looked at him wishfully, almost as if he regretted not doing something. Before he could force words out, he managed a small chuckle and looked overhead where the clouds had dispersed, the stars more visible than the other parts of the sky. “Then let us watch.”
“Let us,” replied Kunlun, eyes lingering over Shen Wei’s face before he could finally force his stare to the sky, consuming the view of flickering lights and a half-smile moon. “Let us.”
But history hates lovers.