Work Text:
in xingqiu's eyes, chongyun was something to behold. chongyun was his childhood friend, his partner in crime (more or less), his closest confident. as children and into adolescence, it was always the same; xingqiu and chongyun, chongyun and xingqiu. rarely apart, never far off. but one thing that changed as they grew older was the space between them, the roles they were made to fit at an age where they were fresh and soft and pliable.
and his father, beloved father of his, would always remind him of the molde made for him. 'xingqiu, be careful around that boy', 'xingqiu, don't get too attached to that boy', 'xingqiu, that boy is from a family of poor illusionists. he will do you no good', but he couldn't be any more wrong. chongyun worked hard when he was away, and worked harder just to be by his side. chongyun would tell him his struggles, and he'd witness him working through them in whatever painstaking way he could; when chongyun went missing for a week, when he came home disheveled, shivering and sick - he watched as his mother lead him to his cot and visited every day for two weeks more to watch him struggle to recover. xingqiu would never forget.
nor would he forget the time he walked in on chongyun's favourite spot to train atop mount tianheng to him exercising relentlessly, jacket discarded and pristine skin luminous in the golden light with sweat. neither the time chongyun knocked on his window near midnight, how blisters and callouses dug into his hands as he helped him in and saw blood spotted bandages firm around his palms. "where have you been," xingqiu asked. "training," chongyun returns, a quiet thing. xingqiu would never forget how he fell asleep on his shoulder minutes after sitting down on the bed with him. how he regarded chongyun's strong, worn hands in his when he changed his bandages. how vulnerable he seemed when he was laid to rest properly in the sheets. the look on his face as he founds himself halfway out the window in a frenzy to not be caught by xingqiu's father.
little moments xingqiu couldn't condemn for a social status, priceless tidbits of chongyun's life shared with him. chongyun consoling his mother after coming home beaten and bruised, chongyun tucked away in the corner of the bookstore looking for answers to questions none have asked before, chongyun nipping away at something cold as he turned his back to xingqiu and xiangling's laughter. chongyun practicing spells and writing seals, chongyun brandishing the greatsword as if there were nothing left for him to do, chongyun lighting up to every bit of false hope he could provide. no, chongyun was more than a poor boy from a poor family with an impossible dream.
xingqiu squeezes the hand in his to his father's words echoing in his mind after his fond recollection of a mishap in the mail on chongyun's birthday; chongyun was more than any of that. the head in his lap shifts, chongyun slowly rising from where he slumped over without warning and effectively caught the attention of his friend - sparing a glance to the book that was once below his head, chongyun grunts apologetically, a subdued noise. to this, xingqiu simply laughs, closing the book on it's crumpled page with no mind, "so modest! no need to worry," yet somehow chongyun looks even more guilty. "i'm sorry, i just felt… ah, was something on your mind?" he asks. "hm? oh, no no. i was just considering - it's been a bit since we've visited wanmin's."
chongyun's eyes narrow in minute fear, and as xingqiu bursts into laughter, his heart melts.