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Soft beams of light drifted through the thin glass of the window, the room frozen from a deafening silence that had been roaming ominously over them. The air had stilled; it was cold and crisp, like a fall breeze when the sun is just beginning to set, almost. In fact, the sun had already set, many, many moments ago. Therefore, it was already deep into the night, the sky a dark, threatening ebony. Speckles of white were thrown haphazardly amongst the dark backdrop, too, shining brightly and emitting a faint, twinkling light that barely even reached the sky.
The perfect conditions for a good nights sleep. No sound, no light, only the faint rustling of cedar leaves every so often or a chirp of a night owl.
Ah. Peace. Just like Chongyun had always liked things; calming, relaxing, no conflict, no questions. Simply allow your mind to rest.
Of course, everything had gone as planned for Chongyun until he was… strapped into a wooden chair. It was tight, as he felt the hard wood press against his back and thighs, feet pushing down against a completely black floor, so black that no light was reflecting off of it. The walls were the same eerie black, so black he couldn’t tell if there were walls there to begin with. A void, almost, a mysterious empty hole where Chongyun sat and waited, waited until something decided to happen, whatever that was.
Wait.
Xingqiu was standing there. In front of him. With his back turned to face Chongyun. His hands were tucked together neatly beside his back. Navy-blue locks of hair stayed completely frozen, still, draping over his teal coat.
He didn’t say a word. Simply stood and stared away, ominously, eyes pressed against the other side of the room. A noise can be heard from somewhere. An ominous noise, almost. Threatening. Dangerous.
Panic bubbled up inside of Chongyun’s chest. An urge to run. An urge to hide. Yet he couldn’t do anything. So he simply sat and waited, patience wearing thin as fear began to spoil his mind. Dapples of black, almost, infecting and spreading within himself, plaguing his heart and mind like ice forming on a lake, frozen, still, and cold.
With a dry, stinging throat, he finally decided to speak. Say something. Anything. He let out a shaky breath that he had been holding within his chest for seconds too long, preparing for the words to erupt from his throat.
“Xingqiu.”
Nothing.
No response.
Instead of staying still, Xingqiu then began to walk away. Gradually. Slowly. Heels clicked against the non-existent floor, hair swaying ever so slightly. No words were said as he walked. He simply did so, almost as if it were out of spite, legs moving so slowly yet his silhouette blurred so, so fast. It was painful to say the least. Agitating. Frustrating.
“Xingqiu!” he yelled. “Xingqiu!” he yelled once again.
Despite his efforts, the navy-blue-haired-boy kept dragging himself away from Chongyun’s sight. Wetness began to stain his cheek as he attempted an escape. All he achieved was the rope to rub against his skin painfully as it began to burn. No progress was made. He couldn’t do anything. Only sit and watch as he walked, so painfully slowly away, being swallowed by a mysterious void to never be seen again, darkness consuming his faint figure like the night swallowing the daytime sky.
Then, the sound from earlier appeared again.
A harsh, cutting sound, only to be replaced by a gust of wind, a cry of anguish, a scream for something, anything, only to disappear within a second. A stain of red caught Chongyun’s eye. Chongyun screamed, painfully, ignorantly, Xingqiu was gone, what had just happened, what just-
***
Chongyun’s eyes burst open, chest inflating and deflating hastily, breaths shaky and unpredictable as he ripped himself away from his bedsheets. The area around him slowly came into focus; there was a navy-blue bed, pale walls, and a bookshelf littered with miscellaneous fantasy and fiction novels. The blackness was gone, the chair was gone, it was only Chongyun. Himself. His real self.
Oh. Right.
It was a nightmare.
Chongyun placed his palm on his chest to still himself and took a deep, long breath. He bit down against his bottom lip, hands and face nearly colorless out of utter fear. He had been having dreams like these for a while now, ones where Xingqiu left Chongyun whilst Chongyun was not able to do or say a single thing about it.
Suddenly, something wet began to roll down his cheek. Acidic and salty, rolling down his skin towards his chin, yet clear and transparent like freshly made glass.
Tears.
Ah, tears, what a familiar foe.
More began to escape his eyes dreadfully, one after the other like a little dance on his cheeks. He placed his face in his palms, he couldn’t be seen like this.
As if someone were reading his mind, though, a voice rang in his pained ears.
“Chongyun, are you okay?”
…Shoot. He forgot he was with Xingqiu. At his house. Of course, his silly little inconvience had to of waken Xingqiu up when they were meant to have a good time, and Chongyun ruined it.
“I’m sorry,” Chongyun whimpered instead of answering the other boy’s question. Guilt rang loudly in his chest; why did he have to do this?
Slender arms suddenly wrapped around Chongyun’s torso. A chin was placed on his shoulder, a sudden weight against him that caused his heart to pick up pace. He felt Xingqiu’s breath against his back, a friendly reminder that he’s real, he’s here, he isn’t gone. Something inside of him though said otherwise, though; a voice that was muffled and quiet, one that Chongyun had tried to mute ever since they had sloppily confessed to each other years ago.
“Hey,” Xingqiu said, his voice quiet, soft, “you can cry. It’s alright.”
“We- but, I don’t want to-“
“I don’t mind.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
Chongyun then finally reciprocated the hug and wrapped his arms around Xingqiu’s back, allowing himself to uglily sob into the other boy’s shoulder. His fingernails pressed against Xingqiu’s skin, digging into his nightclothes as his heart rate quickened. He began to wear a bittersweet smile on his face, happy and shining yet stained by tears all at once.
“What happened, Chongyun?” Xingqiu finally brought himself to ask, voice muffled from Chongyun’s incoherent sobs. The lighter haired boy composed himself for a moment, taking a deep, shaky breath against Xingqiu’s nightclothes and willing the tears to end.
“It was-“ he began, pausing for a moment to swallow rather thickly, “-a nightmare. About you.”
Chongyun could sense Xingqiu’s confusion, yet he didn’t ask anything more. He simply stayed quiet and still, room for Chongyun to speak more if he’d like. An open request, so morally right yet cruel at the same time, room for Chongyun to spill everything out at once yet not allowing full permission to do so.
The tension grew thicker, though, and Chongyun knew he had to continue.
“You… Walked away and I couldn’t do anything. I-I know it- it sounds dumb, but I-“ Chongyun started, suddenly getting caught up in tears and his throat seeming to become narrower, despite nothing within him changing. A reminder of his sobs, ugly cries, a reminder of what was happening.
“It isn’t dumb, don’t think like that,” Xingqiu reassured, “but, why was I leaving?”
“I don’t- I don’t know, you just- left and I couldn’t do anything about it and I’ve had these dreams for a while and I don’t know what’s going on with me and I just-“
Xingqiu suddenly paused after the boy’s rambling, the silence suddenly reappearing, the reassuring, comfortable silence, only for it to soon be destroyed by Chongyun’s own cries. Xingqiu didn’t seem to mind, though, he stayed still and allowed Chongyun to cry, allowed Chongyun to rant.
Something fluttered within Chongyun’s heart, a feeling of hope, a feeling of clarity, a butterfly forming within himself. It fluttered gracefully, not being crushed by his own fists, by his own feelings, by his own irrational thoughts. It stayed there, flying, allowing Chongyun to feel a moment of happiness. A moment of true peace.
“Chongyun, you know, I love you, right?” Xingqiu finally responded, Chongyun’s sobs seeming nearly silent, even if it was only for a moment. “I won’t leave you. I couldn’t.”
These words shouldn’t mean much to Chongyun. They couldn’t. Why would they, anyway?
But they did. They meant everything. Simple words, little butterflies of hope that could so easily be crushed, so easily be lies, but to Chongyun, it meant everything.
He hugged Xingqiu tighter, squeezing his eyes nearly shut. The cold feeling he had once felt had vanished, disintegrated into nothingness as warmness wrapped around his ribcage, a warmness that who knows if it’s temporary, a warmness that who knows when it’ll leave, yet Chongyun indulged in it none the less.
And maybe this time, Chongyun thought, falling back asleep wouldn’t be as hard.