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Wei Ying was in the streets, shivering as he looked at the people buying gifts and warm food, and going into their houses with big smiles on their faces.
He stared, wondering if he would ever have a family to take him in.
Ever since his parents died in a car crash one night near the woods, he forced himself to run and leave them behind, knowing that he would never last there in those woods. And so now, he was on the streets, tummy grumbling and skin marred with scars and dirt.
Until one day, on the day before Christmas, a man held out his hand saying that he was a friend of his parents. He had a gentle smile on his face, and warm clothes on. On the other hand which he didn’t use to pull Wei Ying up, had warm bread in it.
After being carried by said man, he felt warmth and love again.
This Christmas isn’t so bad.
••
As Wei Ying grew older, he slowly read the atmosphere the house was giving off. Jiang Fengmian didn’t go near him most of the time, and mostly pretended he was a shadow. Yu Ziyuan never really liked him, but she dare not kick him out either. Jiang Cheng and his Shijie were the only two people he could rant to, tell his secrets to, and talk to.
Despite having Christmas gatherings with a lot of relatives, the three siblings still hold their own little festival inside their shared room, exchanging handmade gifts for each other, and treasuring them until the day they die.
••
Everything went down one day.
A Wen who Wei Ying doesn’t know the name of, accused him of things he didn’t do and caused him to get kicked out of college. He couldn’t tell Jiang Cheng who was abroad, living a good life and meeting new people, after being stuck inside a house where he could barely be free. Wei Ying is not taking away his freedom, just because of this problem.
His sister was married to a rich man whom she loved, ever since she laid eyes on him. She just had a little babe, so small, his little hands could barely wrap around Wei Ying’s finger. So he decides, that no, he isn’t going to tell her.
What about Jiang Fengmian and Yu Ziyuan? His uncle and Madame Yu?
No. Stepping foot inside the threshold would only make things worse. His uncle wouldn’t even bat an eyelash if Madame Yu started scolding him, calling him pathetic, calling him a worthless child who didn’t deserve to be taken in. She would most likely tell him he would be better off in the streets.
Maybe she was right. Maybe he was better off in the streets.
He spent that Christmas in the cold, behind a closed resto whose walls still had a bit of warmth in them, until he fell asleep.
••
While working, from one place to another, hoping to make money and help his two friends and their nephew from starving to death like him, he bumped into someone and destroyed his painting.
Wei Ying had apologized profusely and asked how he could repay the man— who looked quite scary with his one red eye, and his silver necklaces. The man only huffed and dusted his sleeves, telling him to just help gather the things he’s dropped.
He apologized again, and gave the man his things, as neatly as he could.
That Christmas night, he felt his heart beat loudly, his cheeks red.
Not from the cold.
••
During the entirety of his year, he’s been bumping into that same man. When he had the courage to ask, he found out that they were living in the same neighborhood. Thanks to this, they started hanging out. He learned his name, Hua Cheng. He was an artist, aspiring to show people his feelings through his artworks. Wei Ying had offhandedly asked if he could see those works, to his shock, Hua Cheng agreed to.
They met in his house.
Hua Cheng’s place was clean and neat. The only place where it seemed was used a lot was the art room, where pain was scattered all over, and canvases littered the room messily.
Wei Ying could see, that despite the room being messy, the man had loved his work. In each and every painting, showed his different feelings. One he showed, he was lonely. In another, he showed his thanks. In another, he showed warmth. Hua Cheng was explaining how he cleans his brushes (since Wei Ying had asked— and who was he to ever deny Wei Ying anything), when he saw what Wei Ying was looking at.
In a sketch pad, good for practicing watercolors, was his face while they were drinking in the Café near Hua Cheng’s place. Wei Ying was looking outside the window, sipping on his cold drink during winter season.
In another page, he saw himself smiling while looking at a ladybug in the park, holding out his forefinger, hoping that the insect would eventually climb on his hand (it didn’t. But Hua Cheng thought that he was much more of a sight than a mere ladybug).
In another page, Wei Ying saw himself in his work clothes in the store he had one part-time job at. He looked tired in the painting, but his smile was as bright as ever, eager to please the customer whose face cannot be seen.
Wei Ying had looked back, only to see Hua Cheng frantically snatch the sketch pad from him, look away and blush, asking if Wei Ying could forget what he saw.
Wei Ying, being the brat that he is, said no and poked the two-inch-taller-than-he man’s cheek. “Thank you. I look wonderful.”
That Christmas, he admitted to himself, for the first time in years, that yes: he is beautiful. He, though, is embarrassed that someone saw that first before he did.
••
One day, Hua Cheng was away. They had finally been together after some dates and bickering. That day, was Christmas Eve.
He couldn’t hold Hua Cheng back even though he already planned the entire holiday for the both of them. Hua Cheng was rising in ranks, and his art was more appreciated, more noticed by people. He shouldn’t hold his boyfriend back, now that he had gotten what he wanted.
He was returning all the food he’s made into the fridge, losing the appetite he had, and grabbed the wine from the top shelf, when he felt arms wrap around him.
“Hi.”
His voice, deep and satisfying to hear, had rumbled against the back of his neck, warmth breath tickling him. But then he realized something, and sharply turned around. “Why are you back? Didn’t you say your art exhibition would last longer? What about the people? Your art? Your dream?”
Hua Cheng smiled. “I’ve told you many times before and I will say it again.” He caressed his lover’s cheeks and kissed his forehead. “The only art I’d show off the most is you. The only people I’d show you is you. The best art I’ve ever met and made is you. You are my muse and my art. You are my dream.”
Wei Ying giggles. “How do you say I was your dream when you never even met me before?”
“Dreams change Wei Ying, and in each and every dream, I had a favorite but it was never complete. Ever since you appeared in one, I wished for you to appear on more. I wished for you to be a part of me. I wished to be complete, with you.”
Wei Ying, red faced, snuggled into his neck, pouting. “Shut up.”
“I won’t.” Hua Cheng grins. He pulls out something behind him and gives it to Wei Ying. “Merry Christmas, baobei.”
It was a bouquet, and the wine he loved so. And what was beside it were adoption papers, of the little boy Wei Ying had been eyeing. The same boy whose aunt and uncle were Wen Ning and Wen Qing. “I am ready, and I am sure you are too.”
That day, Wei Ying had received a Christmas gift he’d treasure his whole life.
A family.