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“Ming-Xiong..” He muttered, and then a piercing glance he couldn’t help but to shiver and try to step back was sent in his direction, “I…” He breathed out, almost choking mid-word. Then a loud noise echoed in the lair. It was made by He Xuan, who hit the rigid but smooth wall behind him.
“You what?” He muttered grit teethed, “You regret this? Do you feel ashamed of your brother’s deeds? By the secrets behind your ascension? Or do you, rather, pity me? My dead fiance, my long-dead family? Lineage?” He said quietly, clutching his fits while doing so, but he still spoke the ‘dead’ louder than any word in his sentence. And the young man tied by the chains couldn’t help but whimper, his ears ringing and ringing until he could only accept the pain, thoughts, and actions committed. Tears newly fall again, dirtying the youth’s cheeks even more, and then mixing with the blood and sweat covering him up.
“Is this some sick, twisted feeling of obligation, pride speaking?”
The now fallen God heard, watched with his mouth open, quivering as if trying to spit something out but couldn't. And that's right, he didn't have the right to refute anything or to say anything. He wanted to deny it, he wanted to say he really, really regret everything. But not his friendship, but he couldn’t just say it. Not for his pride, not for self-respect, but for him. For the one he called “Ming-Xiong”- No, he might as well say He Xuan.
The once bright boy covered by the aura of a God couldn’t think or say something correctly, his mind was in a daze, and he himself never noticed when Xie Lian had left. - or if he even had left, and maybe he was watching still, he would be astonished, unable to talk then - Shi Qing Xuan never appreciated the present that at first glance was perfect, but behind the covers, a melodramatic, insensible, and ignorance were playing the scenes; it could be felt.
He never really appreciated those days of peace, where he would get a scolding or “You can do better”’s from his brother, where he would talk, smile, and laugh with the once known ‘Ming Yi’, where he would freely talk with His Highness.
It was all taken away in a blink of an eye. And Shi Qing Xuan couldn’t stand up, couldn’t talk for himself or his brother, because they weren’t the real victims in this affair. They never really were. He couldn’t talk, not because his pride made it unable to, but because he felt a never satisfying punch in the head and gut, he felt something crawling in his throat, he felt broken. He felt thousands of swords penetrating his heart, he felt sincere sorrow and regret.
Those feelings were genuine, but He Xuan thinks they aren't. And Shi Qing Xuan is helpless against it, against him. He doesn't know what he feels, he doesn't know what to do, he can't understand, he doesn't know how to help or what to do in the matter. He can't do anything.
They were like a candle; burnt onto it all melted.
"He Xuan," He began, staring at the floor - yet his eyes were unfocused, Qing Xuan could only feel wetness surrounding his eyes - while trying to say out aloud more words. "You were my best friend, you know that right?"
He Xuan didn't bother to look at him or recognize him. They both were foreign faces now, even after all the centuries. Shi Qing Xuan's eyes were once bright, sparking and emitting life. He Xuan's were dull and tired, undisturbed. But now, it was switched. It was ironic, even. He Xuan's were lifely; he seemed broken, rage still lingering in his eyes. He couldn't tell if it was towards himself or the Former Wind Master. Now Qing Xuan's were dull and tired. So, so tired of how his life came crashing down in just some hours.
"Look at me! Aren't I your best friend" Shi Qing Xuan screamed while moving forward, but he was unable to move where he was by the restraints. On the surface, he just sounded like a brat, unperturbed, unprotected by reality. But it was really just agony, the only thing he spoke after all the turmoil in his mind and heart. He yelled in a fit of grief.
"Aren't I..?" He sounded less certain, waiting for a confirmation. Not a confirmation made by him, but said by the one known as Black Water. He was like a puppy, waiting for their master's approval.
"You never were." That was what he got. Shi Qing Xuan thought he wouldn't have minded not receiving a reply at all.
He let out a dry and deranged laugh, ignoring the looks of something akin to disgust from the other's eyes. The laughter abruptly stopped, and the crooked smile Qing Xuan held faded away. Then he began screaming, anguished screams filling the room, echoing his screams until they faded away to silence; then he would start yelling incoherently again, swinging his free foot, trying to kick everyone but none at all. The cries for help, the incoherent yells of the former God began to fade. His screams began losing their voice, sounding quiet and quieter than before, the noise mixing with the choked cries Shi Qing Xuan tried not to cry out.
Those agonizing shrieks seemed to last for hours, and not once did he get silenced or comforted by someone or anything. Not once did He Xuan show an intent to kill him. Not once did He Xuan give him a glance again.
"Kill me." He bitterly and hoarsely spoke, dry tears leaving his face, subtly crashing and dirtying his robes that now seemed blood red, crimson-colored. "Kill me, He Xuan." He repeated.
"Kill me, please, please! Just kill me already!" He tried to yell, but his voice simply cracked. He tried to unleash himself from the handcuffs, from the metal that must have left a white yet red spot in his once fragile skin, and point at himself. But he couldn't. He could have as the Wind Master, but he wasn't the darling of the Heavens anymore. He never was.
Now, the corpse of his brother’s body is laid down on the floor, the head long-missing. The scene will never truly leave him, never alone. The spluttering blood coming from his neck had seemed endless, the shot open, red and dry, but burning pride in his eyes, the defiance in his sight was something that was burned in his memories. The blood engulfed his robes, his broken fan. His face. He was cursed to never forget.
"Ge… Ge, what have you done…" He whispered, his voice husky from the screaming. He Xuan inevitably broke him free from his chains without much hesitation, but he was deep in a trance to even notice. Or to see him. He stared at the pavement below him that was tainted in the blood of his brother, aside from the blood it was mostly clean. But there were some dark, wet spots made by all his tears spilled. He Xuan furrowed his brows, an intense look on his eyes.
"Shut up.” But Shi Qing Xuan did not stop, but got quieter and spoke more, his focus still on the floor beneath him.
Then a pearl came rolling to his restricted perception, it was almost shining.
"I'll leave you in the Royal Capital." That was what he could hear him say. He could find in his memories that, in that place, was their original location. The place where he planned to confine himself and drink until he couldn’t. The place he wanted to go see in his godhood. He Xuan didn’t appear to have forgotten.
But who could spare him a look of fascination anymore? Who could accept him in such a bewildered state? How could one accept someone broken who was grieving? In the least, he was just a mourning kid who didn’t have a home, or a family, or somewhere to go back to.
He was mourning for his brother and the one once known as his best friend.
But He Xuan didn’t seem to care for those implications; he actually seemed to care enough to leave him there. Free. Alive.
Shi Qing Xuan didn’t like those things anymore. He didn’t want to live or to be free without having someone to return for.