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“Xie Lian! I’m leaving your clothes down here, okay?”
Yin Yu places a neat pile of freshly folded clothes on the step at the bottom of the stairs, pressing it as close to the wall as possible. Last time, Xie Lian’s feet caught them on his way down, and he loudly crashed to the floor.
If Hua Cheng had been there, he would’ve undoubtedly freaked out. Maybe kicked Yin Yu out on the spot. Thankfully, the fall only left Xie Lian with soreness and bruised knees. Thus, Xie Lian pretended he tripped on his own. Again. In the end, all was well, but from then on Yin Yu always made sure to notify him before dropping off any laundry.
“Thanks!” comes Xie Lian’s reply. Yin Yu instinctively looks up to where the voice is coming from. It’s slightly distorted, as though he’s brushing his teeth or speaking from the furthest point of the apartment. Or both at the same time.
Yin Yu can’t quite tell. He’s never been upstairs.
All he knows about it is that there’s a bedroom, a bathroom, and it’s Xie Lian and Hua Cheng’s space.
With no other solution, Xie Lian suggested Yin Yu move into the guest room of his and Hua Cheng’s apartment after he was evicted from his old, moldy place. Almost a year has passed since and, not having a good reason to, Yin Yu has never stepped foot on even the stairs.
Not that he minds. He’s lucky to be here at all. He doesn’t want to intrude on any more space than he already does.
But, for how much longer?
He drops on the couch with a sigh. He half-heartedly picks up E’Ming—who’s been meowing at his feet for the food that’s been in his bowl for the past thirty minutes—and settles it on his chest, where the cat merely glares at him. At least, it doesn’t swat at him anymore. Yin Yu would even dare say they get along quite well now, though he doubts he’ll ever reach Xie Lian’s level in its eye.
Yin Yu mindlessly turns the TV on. It’s still paused on the movie they all watched together last night, the love interest staring adoringly back at him. He’s fairly sure Xie Lian asked to stop there and go to bed out of secondhand embarrassment.
In Yin Yu’s humble opinion, Hua Cheng looks at Xie Lian ten times worse, but he supposes the heart wants what it wants. Maybe it’s different when you love someone back.
There’s a faraway noise of a closing door. Soon after, footsteps echo down the stairs and, a moment later, Xie Lian flops next to him, wearing shorts and a tank top that’s slightly too large for him. E’Ming doesn’t waste a second to abandon Yin Yu in favor of Xie Lian’s lap.
“You want to keep watching?” Xie Lian asks. He sat so near their shoulders are brushing. He radiates warmth, and Yin Yu has always been cold; it’s hard not to crave some of it. But he never asks; never fills the gap. If he doesn’t indulge now, it’ll be easier when he has to say goodbye later.
Yin Yu inwardly groans, berating himself. Why does he have to care that much? It’s not like when he inevitably leaves, he’ll never see them again. It’s not like it was ever part of the deal, either. It was never meant to be forever—but nor had he meant for them to get so close.
That, maybe, is what makes it all more complicated than it has to be.
“Not really,” Yin Yu replies, twisting his fingers together. “I don’t know why I turned it on.”
“What’s on your mind?” Xie Lian inquires, ever so perceptive. “You look a little sad. Did Yizhen call you again?”
Yin Yu shakes his head. “No. I told him I didn’t want to hear about it anymore.”
Quan Yizhen, who works for Yin Yu’s old employer (and in his old position, no less), is another complicated thing all on his own. Yin Yu doesn’t want to think about him now.
“You don’t have to talk about it,” Xie Lian says gently. “But you know you can tell us anything, right?”
The corner of Yin Yu’s mouth curves up, just a bit. “‘Us’? Not that I hold it against him, but I don’t think Hua Cheng would notice if I abruptly disappeared—or just, you know. . . left.”
Xie Lian gives a low laugh. “Don’t say that. It’s hard to get it out of him, but he cares more than he lets on.” Yin Yu sucks in a breath as the warmth suddenly presses against him, Xie Lian’s arm looping with his own. “We’re both really happy to have you here.”
Yin Yu sneaks a wary, hopeful glance at him. “You are?”
“Of course!”
Yin Yu gazes down, opening and clenching the fingers of his hand. Not for the first time, part of him wishes he’d have the guts to take Xie Lian’s. It wouldn’t have to mean anything; just fulfilling the desire for a little extra warmth.
Xie Lian is, after all, rather amazing. Yin Yu hasn’t known him for as long as Hua Cheng, but he’s the strongest person he’s ever met. He’s also the kindest, and when Xie Lian looks at him, he feels like perhaps, there is someone in this world who can see the worth he himself can’t find within.
Hua Cheng is rather wonderful, too. He likes to pretend he’s not so much of a good person, but Yin Yu wholeheartedly believes that isn’t true. Although it took him some time to see it as a kindness rather than an opportunity, back when everyone saw him as weak and useless, discarding him to the side, Hua Cheng was the first one to pick him up and give him a chance. A bad person wouldn’t have done that.
Yin Yu is not foolish, naive enough to believe Xie Lian would ever return his feelings. Hua Cheng, even less so. The feelings themselves are difficult to pinpoint, but at any rate, he’s happy with what he has. He doesn’t need or want more.
Whatever what he has even is.
With a small start, Yin Yu blinks in rapid succession, bringing himself back to the present. His eyes snap down, and his chest feels strangely full. It happened again; Xie Lian closed the gap himself, casually taking Yin Yu’s hand in his in an attempt at comfort. Not for the first time, Yin Yu wonders how it can be so soft despite all the hard labor he does.
“Is that what's been bothering you, then?” Xie Lian asks. “You’re not thinking about leaving, are you?”
Yin Yu is surprised to hear he sounds a bit woeful.
“What—no, no!” he hurries to say. “I don’t—I want—I’ve just been staying here for so long, and I don’t want to impose, but I—” Helplessly stumbling on his words, Yin Yu’s shoulders slump. He risks a glance at Xie Lian, but all he sees is quiet understanding. Finally, he finishes in a murmur that part of him wishes Xie Lian won’t hear, “I’d stay forever if I could.”
“Stay forever, then,” Xie Lian replies kindly. Of course, he listened. “Like I said; we’re happy you’re here.”
Yin Yu can’t believe what he’s hearing, staring at Xie Lian dumbfoundedly. He thought that surely, his continued presence in their routine had to be resented to at least some extent. “But. . . why?”
Xie Lian gives his hand a reassuring squeeze. Yin Yu feels it all the way to his heart. “Why not? You’re our friend, and only good things came out of you moving in with us. It works, so if you want to stay, why should you leave? We don’t want you to go.” He halts, seemingly remembering something and promptly reddening. “Oh. Is it because of the other day. . . That was unfortunate, but we weren’t—I mean, we were, but—”
Yin Yu waves a dismissive hand before Xie Lian’s whole body changes colour. “It’s okay! It wasn’t the first—” He coughs into his fist, the plethora of faint, hot sounds that cross the walls of his bedroom a couple times a week resonating in his ears. “It’s fine! It really is.”
Xie Lian lets out a small sigh of relief. “Good. Aiya, this is very embarrassing. Please pretend it never happened.”
Although Yin Yu is fairly sure it’ll happen again—the walls aren’t that thick, and Xie Lian may be embarrassed, but Hua Cheng definitely doesn’t care—he’ll gladly do so. Sex isn’t something he cares to think about, be it regarding others, and most certainly not regarding himself.
Besides, he knew what he was getting into.
“I mean it, though,” Xie Lian continues, happy to change the subject. “Stay with us as long as you want.”
With that, Xie Lian lays his head over Yin Yu’s shoulder, getting comfortable. On top of the sincerity of the statement making hope bloom inside his chest, Yin Yu holds his breath—he isn’t sure he’ll ever get used to this.
Not that he wants to. If he had to leave, he would take all these precious moments with him, and never let go of a single one.
It didn’t start on purpose; one day, Xie Lian merely fell asleep like this. After he woke up and realized Yin Yu hadn’t moved and kept reading his book, he began doing it more and more often.
The first time Hua Cheng stumbled upon them, Yin Yu was convinced he would be killed in his sleep for it, but surprisingly, the next morning, he was still alive.
If he’d died, though, it would’ve been worth it.
He’s always been baffled by the ease with which Xie Lian and Hua Cheng move around each other, and how simply and naturally intimacy comes to them. But he also knows that perhaps no one understands him as well as Xie Lian; for a time, his life was as lonely as Yin Yu’s. He must have struggled with it, too.
Yet he picked it up so fast, while Yin Yu still stumbles far behind. Not that he had many occasions to, but.
In any case, he’d never thought even an ounce of that hardwon intimacy would be extended to anyone, and certainly not him of all people.
Still, Yin Yu never dared return the gesture, like it would cross an invisible line.
“Xie Lian. . . is this really alright?” Yin Yu wonders quietly.
“What is?”
“You know. . . you. . . being casual like this. . .”
There’s a heavy pause before Xie Lian answers slowly, “Oh, I’m sorry. Does it bother you?”
Hearing the hint of worry in his voice, Yin Yu quickly clears up, “No! I—I don’t mind it at all. To tell the truth, I—” He pauses, steeling himself. The hold Xie Lian still has on his arm tightens reassuringly. “I rather like it. But. . . You’re not—I’m not—We. . . Ah, well, you know?”
Somehow, Yin Yu hears the gentle smile in Xie Lian’s voice as he answers, “I know. And that’s okay. San Lang and I were close like this even before we admitted our feelings.” Xie Lian gives Yin Yu a look before he can protest that it’s not the same—he’s nowhere near as close to either of them as they’ve been to each other since the beginning. “Regardless of what kind of feelings they harbor, if two people are comfortable around each other, I don’t see why it wouldn’t be alright. Should we sit on each end of the couch like strangers?”
Yin Yu clenches and opens his fingers. “I’ve, ah—I can’t say I’ve had many friends, so I’ve just never had the occasion to become close like this with anyone.”
“There’s a first for everything, no?” Xie Lian wonders. He readjusts his position, startling E’Ming into jumping off its spot on his lap, finally seeking its bowl of food instead. “But if you want me to stop at any point, you have to tell me, okay?”
Yin Yu’s eyes suddenly sting a bit. He isn’t sure why he feels so emotional. Perhaps because, until he moved here and got to know Xie Lian, he never thought these things could be so easy.
Whenever it happened in the past, he greedily clung to it, letting the feeling of comfort and acceptance found in such intimacy wrap around him like the safety of a childhood blanket. Like any time could be the last.
Truthfully, he doesn’t want Xie Lian to ever stop at all.
Inhaling deeply, Yin Yu rests his head against Xie Lian’s. A small smile delicately stretches his lips, and something in his heart settles, knowing that this is alright.
“If Hua Cheng tries to kill me, you’ll protect me, right?” he tries to joke, although he’s half serious.
Xie Lian laughs, the sound reverberating through Yin Yu’s chest. “I won’t have to. He’s just too proud to admit he wouldn’t mind joining in.” With that, he cuddles up closer, although he’s not as touchy and clingy as he is with Hua Cheng. Rather, he’s just close enough to be a comforting presence—someone to hold on to. “Isn’t it time for that show you like? About the ocean?”
Yin Yu blinks, not having expected Xie Lian to have noticed his habits. “Oh, huh, yes. It is. I fear you’d find it boring.”
Xie Lian yawns. “Who says I will? Besides, you like it, and there isn’t anything else to watch. Crime Crackdown isn’t on until later.”
Unable to contradict that logic, Yin Yu switches from the paused movie to today’s showing of his ocean show. He’s always wondered what it’d be like to be alone in that vast expanse. It sounds soothing and terrifying all at once. Perhaps it’s not so different from what his life was like before he moved in.
Not even ten minutes in, he’s amused rather than offended when, still feeling somewhat self-aware, Yin Yu distinctly notices Xie Lian getting heavier and heavier. He’s truly made of muscles, under that averagely lean appearance of his. Not that it does anything for Yin Yu, it certainly seems to affect Hua Cheng.
Soon enough comes light snoring next to his ear.
Yin Yu leans more comfortably into the couch and goes very still. That’s something he’s already good at, but with Xie Lian falling asleep, he doesn’t dare move further.
Between Xie Lian’s warmth, the comfiness of the couch, and the song of the whales, it takes no longer than another ten minutes for Yin Yu to slumber as well.
It’s slightly darker when he opens his eyes again. The weight against him hasn’t moved much, however, someone is carefully placing a blanket over them both. Yin Yu catches the flicker of Hua Cheng’s long silver necklaces, the sway of his hair as he bends down.
This gesture alone says more than any words could have.
Xie Lian snores quietly, not noticing Hua Cheng until a delicate kiss is pressed to his lips. He rouses, blinking his eyes open blearily. They light up as soon as he realizes Hua Cheng’s home, letting go of Yin Yu’s hand to frame his face and kiss him back.
“I missed you,” Hua Cheng half murmurs like a love-struck romantic, half whines like a spoiled child.
Xie Lian pokes his nose, but replies sincerely, “I missed my San Lang too.”
He then opens the blanket in a silent invitation, and Hua Cheng eagerly slips next to him, snuggling up as near as he can. Xie Lian takes Hua Cheng’s hand and, to Yin Yu’s surprise, hooks his other arm with Yin Yu’s again. Hua Cheng notices, but doesn’t say a thing. He simply peppers Xie Lian’s jaw in tender, playful pecks, making Xie Lian laugh.
Yin Yu watches from the corner of his vision, perhaps with a little bit of envy.
For sure, with a little bit of wonder.
Wonder at the vastness of such love, but also at being allowed to witness moments like these, and feel his own inadequacy fade away with the echo of Xie Lian’s earlier words, and the casual acceptance of his presence in the fulfillment of their welcome home routine.
When Hua Cheng swings his arm around Xie Lian’s back, Xie Lian lightly jabs him in the ribs, and he begrudgingly extends his arm to Yin Yu as well. But, they all know that should Hua Cheng truly dislike it, he wouldn’t squeeze Yin Yu’s shoulder as he does now. And, well—he wouldn’t have let Yin Yu stay at all.
Turns out, Hua Cheng’s touch isn’t as cold as Yin Yu imagined it.
Later, Hua Cheng rises with him to make dinner while Xie Lian sleeps a little longer. E’Ming makes sure to take their place, sneaking under the blanket and onto Xie Lian’s lap once more.
Hua Cheng unblinkingly chops the onions. Yin Yu is already fighting back stinging tears, and he’s not even the one holding the knife.
“Do you like him?” Hua Cheng asks, breaking the silence.
Of course, Yin Yu knows what kind of ‘like’ Hua Cheng means.
It’s best not to lie to Hua Cheng—somehow, he always knows—so Yin Yu answers truthfully, “Maybe. I don’t know. It’s complicated.”
“Mh,” Hua Cheng says, which does little to reassure Yin Yu that he’s not the one who’s going to be cooked and served hot tonight. But, he adds, glancing at Yin Yu with a piercing eye. “Only fools would not.”
“That’s a lot of fools, then.”
“Indeed,” Hua Cheng snickers. He drops the chopped onions into the hot oil of the pan. “You’re not one, though.”
Feeling bold from how open Hua Cheng has been so far, Yin Yu admits at the same time he adds the ginger, “I like you, too.”
“My mistake.” Hua Cheng hands him a couple carrots. “Perhaps you’re a fool after all.”
“I don’t think I’m in love with either of you,” Yin Yu clarifies. His self-awareness at speaking such words might swallow him whole. “I just. . . like you both a lot. But I’m not sure it’s like. . . that.”
“Just don’t go breaking your own heart.”
In contrast with his words, Hua Cheng bumps his shoulder in a gesture of goodwill.
It’s sort of awkward, and despite appearances he abruptly doesn’t look as at ease anymore, but Yin Yu understands it for what it is; he heard the warning clearly—more advice than a threat—in Hua Cheng’s words, but there was something else in there: whatever Yin Yu’s feelings are, they’re alright with him.
Nothing has to change.
Not only did he hear it then, he sees it in Hua Cheng’s behavior now, too.
“I won’t,” Yin Yu assures. Somehow, he’s never been more confident of such a fact. He’s happy. Happier than he’s been in years. All of this. . . it’s more than enough.
He takes a proper look at Hua Cheng slicing the meat in thin stripes. He’s acting as usual, calm and nonchalant along with his typical air of quiet arrogance and underlying mischievousness. Sensing his gaze, Hua Cheng tips his head towards him.
Yin Yu doesn’t know what else to say. So, he bites back his smile, blinks away the wetness of his eyes that can’t be blamed on the onions anymore, and goes back to work.
After half an hour, Xie Lian is roused by the appetizing smell of a well-cooked and ready to be served meal. He wraps himself around Hua Cheng’s back, making it difficult for him to move with ease, but Hua Cheng only smiles with a kind of tenderness Yin Yu hadn’t thought possible of him until he saw them together.
By the time they finish up, Xie Lian has unwrapped himself and helped out with serving three bowls, which he places all together on a tray.
He excitedly claps his hands once before picking up the tray. “Let’s eat it upstairs!”
“Wait, you took my bo—”
“I know! Yin Yu, you too!”
Yin Yu’s heart skips a beat, having expected he’d be eating on his own tonight, just like every night. “What?”
“Come eat upstairs with us!” Xie Lian repeats, before joining Hua Cheng, who has already turned away.
Yin Yu follows, trailing behind them as he grapples with the invitation.
He lays his hand on the railing and pauses, looking up the stairs. He’s never been up there—truthfully, barely a few hours earlier, he hadn’t realized yet how much he wanted to. He still thought he never would; even believed he wouldn’t be allowed to stay long enough to entertain the possibility.
How funny, that it took so little—just a moment, as simple as any other—to be proven wrong so sincerely.
His mind finds focus again when a “Ohh, whoa!” escapes Xie Lian. The bowls on the trays, now secured, almost slid to the floor when he turned back for Yin Yu, while Hua Cheng indifferently stares down from behind Xie Lian’s shoulder.
“Are you coming?” Xie Lian asks softly.
“Yeah,” Hua Cheng says, “I don’t want to eat cold.”
Despite a hint of nervousness, a giddy sense of happiness builds within, and a small, almost shy smile tugs at Yin Yu’s lips. He’s still getting used to that feeling; that same feeling that comes when Xie Lian cuddles up to him and hooks their arms together, or when Hua Cheng does or says something nice with deceptive disinterest, although Yin Yu knows no one else but Xie Lian has ever gotten an ounce of such friendly treatment from him.
That same feeling that nestled inside him earlier when, for the first time, he felt it was safe to return the gesture, knowing that it doesn’t have to be anything more, but not anything less, either.
Maybe he’s truly not intruding on their romance at all. Maybe, he can have this, and it can be just that simple.
Taking a deep breath, Yin Yu makes his first step up the stairs.