Work Text:
When Xie Lian opened that morning, he could feel that something was different. There was something about the way the light poured through the windows. The high arches and the glass allowed the rising sun to pour into the shop like a pool of light. It was getting warmer now, and Xie Lian could feel it in the way he woke up in the morning, and no part of him felt chilled.
The shop opened early on Saturdays, and Xie Lian was always the one to open on the weekends. He didn’t mind. He liked the methodology of being able to unlock the doors, and then begin turning on the lights. When the sun was out, the lights did nothing to illuminate the shop more than it already was. He liked turning on the register, and setting up new displays. He liked restocking the books that were running low. He liked climbing up the ladders for the books on the higher shelves and dusting where the cleaning crew had neglected maintenance.
Xie Lian just felt like something was different. There was something about the way the clouds opened up just right for a sunbeam to filter in through the high windows and illuminate the center of the room. There was something about the way the sun rose and stayed golden, and the clouds hung low on the horizon all the way into the afternoon.
He felt languid, like a pot of melted gold. His hands were warm when they packaged up books in brown paper for those who asked for their books to be gift wrapped. They were short-staffed, too, and instead of being stressful, it only felt peaceful. Xie Lian liked it when he worked alone. He was able to do things his way, and he was able to be of service to everyone instead of having to direct them to someone else.
He enjoyed working with his coworkers. There was nothing wrong with them. Sometimes they did things differently. Sometimes they were loud. Sometimes they argued with one another. Without them, it was quiet. There was music playing somewhere, but it was faint, and most of the sound that Xie Lian heard was from the bell ringing on the door whenever someone entered or exited. He could hear the occasional soft chatter from their customers. He would hear the periodic shuffle of papers as someone flipped through a book.
The thought of the bond raised in his mind as he moved through the shelves throughout the day. There was little known about it. All Xie Lian knew was that he’d always wondered what it was like, that he felt different, and that it was so pleasant, so syrupy, that he could not help but let his mind stray to those thoughts.
Xie Lian had just received an order when it happened—when the world tilted on its axis, and everything changed. He had just come back to the table with the books he’d retrieved from the shelves. He placed them on a flat sheet of paper and began folding it over the books. He heard the bell ring. The sun was beginning to set.
The customers typically roamed on their own unless they needed specific help. So when Xie Lian heard footsteps approaching the counter, he did not look up right away. The person neared, closer and closer, and even though Xie Lian wasn’t looking up, he was somehow hyperaware of them. He tracked every step, and his heart tugged in his chest, as if trying to coax him around the counter.
Xie Lian grabbed a piece of tape and taped a piece to the center of the paper where it met in the middle of the books. He looked up.
He was standing in front of Xie Lian, looking down at him. The light haloed around him, and lightened the outline of his dark, black hair. His skin was pale and his eyes glittered, and he was the most beautiful person Xie Lian had ever seen.
Xie Lian’s lips parted as he looked up at him. He felt like he knew this man. His cheeks flushed when he realized he was staring up at him, open-mouthed. “Can I help you?” He asked, voice softer than he’d intended for it to be.
The man’s mouth softened into an almost-smile as he looked at him. “Oh, I’m certain that you can.”
Xie Lian felt himself warm even further.
“I’m looking for a specific book. Would you be able to tell me if it’s in stock?”
Xie Lian nodded, still feeling dazzled. “Yes,” he practically whispered.
The man smiled now. “Perfect.”
Xie Lian felt his own lips tug up. He took him in, and felt his chest tugging at him again. He felt a little lost, hands limply on the counter, resting on the half-packaged book as he stared at him.
The man only stared back, seemingly just as content to stand in silence. His eyes flickered over Xie Lian’s face.
“What book are you looking for?” Xie Lian asked eventually, finding the wherewithal to speak.
He blinked, as if coming out of a trance. He glanced down at the package. “I think I saw gege wrapping it up just now. It’s also what I’m looking for.”
Xie Lian glanced down, though it was covered by the paper. “I… I apologize, but this was the last copy.”
“Good,” he said immediately.
“Good?” Xie Lian breathed.
“Then I can come back,” he said, smiling in a charming way. “And maybe gege will even call me to let me know when it comes in.”
Xie Lian felt his face warm again. He leaned forwards, barely aware of it. The man leaned in, too, hands coming up to rest against the counter. “Yes. I will.”
__________
Xie Lian waited for the books to come in, anticipating it more than anything he’d ever anticipated before. There was an index card on the desk by the register, tucked right at the corner so it wouldn’t slip away.
San Lang, it read, and just below it, a number.
He’d told Xie Lian that his name was really Hua Cheng. He’d said that he’d rather Xie Lian call him San Lang, so that’s what Xie Lian did. When the books came in a few days later, Xie Lian had been opening again. He had gone through the practiced motions, but this time it felt different than relaxing. It wasn’t stressful. But the last time he’d done this, Hua Cheng had come in. And Xie Lian wasn’t sure when he’d see him next.
The sun didn’t pour into the room the way it had when Xie Lian met Hua Cheng. It was rainy this time, and the bookstore was shrouded in a dim darkness. Xie Lian did not find this to be a problem, but it felt less like a beginning. It felt less like opening up to the first page of a book that he’d never forget, the way the last day had been when he’d seen Hua Cheng. This felt like nearing the middle of the book, when he found himself anticipating and waiting and wanting to get to the part where he’d be able to parse out what to make of it, what might come next.
When the shipment came in for new books, the bookshop was already open. Xie Lian hoped the book Hua Cheng wanted was in the shipment. He wanted to turn that page. He wanted to turn and turn and turn until he reached the part where things were perfect, even if it was just for a moment before the story continued. Xie Lian wanted to hang in that place, where it was good and warm and safe. He had a feeling that’s what it’d be like to see Hua Cheng again.
Xie Lian saw the book, and felt his chest leap. He put the books away where they belonged, but he grabbed one copy and brought it up to the table. He wasn’t supposed to put books on reserve unless it was paid for already. Xie Lian did not care. He would not lose this.
The moment Xie Lian had a few minutes, he picked up the phone and dialed the number on the index card.
He held the phone to his ear and tapped his fingers along the counter as it rang. Hua Cheng would pick up—he had to. If not, Xie Lian would just call again.
“Hello?”
Xie Lian let out a breath. It was like something had loosened around his throat to hear Hua Cheng’s voice. “San Lang,” he said, perhaps too quietly.
“Gege,” he said pleasantly, voice warm around the edges. “What a pleasure to hear from you.”
Xie Lian’s fingers toyed with the edges of paper on the book. “Your book came in.”
“Oh?” Hua Cheng said, humming lightly. “I’ll have to pick it up as soon as possible then.”
“We’re open until eight today,” Xie Lian said, glancing at the clock. It was only noon, so he felt hopeful.
“Ahh… I don’t think I’ll be able to make it today, gege.” He sounded so regretful. “I have a lot going on at work today…”
“Oh,” Xie Lian said, not even bothering to mask the disappointment he felt. He leaned into the counter and put his chin in his hand as he shifted the phone against his ear. The disappointment he felt was awfully consuming, and he felt almost weak with it. “That’s alright.”
“Tomorrow? Is it alright if gege keeps it on hold for me until then?”
“I don’t work tomorrow,” Xie Lian murmured, the disappointment mounting further. If Hua Cheng came on a day Xie Lian didn’t work, then he wouldn’t be able to see him again at all. His chest ached in an odd way, strong and visceral. “But I can put a note on it, to make sure it’s held until you come to get it.”
“No,” Hua Cheng said immediately. “When’s your next shift?”
Xie lian let out a small breath, relief powerfully warm. “The day after,” he responded. His voice was somewhat weak, but fond. “I don’t open though. I’ll be here in the afternoon.”
“Then I will come in the afternoon,” Hua Cheng said easily. “Will you wait for me, gege?”
Xie Lian gulped down on the forever that wanted to come out. “Yes.”
He could hear the smile in Hua Cheng’s voice. “Then I will see you soon, gege. Wait for me.”
“Okay,” Xie Lian said helplessly.
“Okay,” Hua Cheng said, soft and quiet.
“Bye, San Lang,” Xie Lian murmured. His hand tightened on the phone. He didn’t want to hang up.
“Bye, gege.”
Xie Lian swallowed painfully and hung up. He took in a few deep breaths. He was thankful he’d get to see Hua Cheng again. He wasn’t sure what he’d do if when Hua Cheng picked up the book, that was the last he’d ever see of him. Being on the phone with him had made him feel like the room had color, and hanging up felt like everything had dulled back down to gray.
“Who was that on the phone?” Feng Xin asked, coming up behind him.
“Customer,” Xie Lian murmured, straightening and pushing away from the counter. He took the book with him and placed it on the hold shelves. He didn’t bother putting a note. He’d be the one to give it to Hua Cheng anyway, and he’d remember who it was for.
“It didn’t seem like you were talking to a customer,” Feng Xin deadpanned, setting a stack of books on the counter. He looked over at Xie Lian and waited.
Xie Lian set Hua Cheng’s book on the shelf and turned to look back at Feng Xin. “Someone came in and asked for a book to be put on hold, that’s all. They’ll be picking it up in two days.”
Feng Xin was staring at him, as if trying to figure him out. “You’re acting weird,” he said bluntly.
Xie Lian wondered if his cheeks were pink. He avoided Feng Xin’s gaze. He felt unhappy. Ever since hanging up the phone, he felt cold, like the rain was seeping through the ceiling and cascading over him, just him. Xie Lian blinked a few times and went over to the computer near the register. “I’m just a little tired today.”
Feng Xin scoffed. “You’re obviously lying.”
Xie Lian leaned into the counter. He felt a little weak, and it only got worse as the moments passed and as Feng Xin continued speaking. He rested his hand on the mouse and clicked through the emails. “I’m a bit under the weather, Feng Xin,” he said, voice somewhat low.
Feng Xin was quiet for a moment. “Well, if you still continue to feel sick, I’m sure it’ll be fine if you go home early.”
Xie Lian didn’t think going home would help. If anything, he felt like it’d be worse. There, he’d be soaking in his disappointment, waiting until the day he went back to work.
Xie Lian felt silly about it. So he pushed through his day, did everything he was meant to do, and even though Feng Xin eyed him the entire time and encouraged him to clock out early, Xie Lian did not.
He stayed until closing, even though he was not scheduled to. It made his work day twelve hours, but it was better than going home. Feng Xin was getting irritated with him. He made comments about how Xie Lian “better not think Feng Xin can’t close on his own,” but Xie Lian assured him that he just had nothing better to do back at his apartment.
Feng Xin would have argued more, but one of their regular customers had come in. Xie Lian could tell who it was by the way the door opened and then shut firmly behind him. Xie Lian felt relieved for perhaps the first time at the sight of Mu Qing. It meant that Feng Xin would leave him alone.
Mu Qing hadn’t said anything to either of them, but he had gone straight to the section he always went to. He went towards their selection of cultural books and always found something to complain about. Feng Xin was normally the one to take the brunt of all Mu Qing’s complaints. Xie Lian wasn’t really sure how that happened, but it did. The times where Feng Xin hadn’t been working, Mu Qing never had anything bad to say. And despite Feng Xin always complaining when he arrived, the days that Mu Qing didn’t come, Feng Xin always moped.
Xie Lian thought maybe that had been why Feng Xin wouldn’t stop bugging Xie Lian that day. Mu Qing normally came earlier. Perhaps Feng Xin had thought he wasn’t going to come at all.
“Hey!” Feng Xin called, as soon as he caught sight of Mu Qing. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? We close in thirty minutes!”
Xie Lian saw Mu Qing send him a withering glare before he turned back to the shelf he was restocking. Xie Lian had a cart of books that had been placed throughout the store haphazardly by customers, and was putting them away now. It was raining again, and Xie Lian wondered if he would have to walk home in the rain.
“You’re still open, aren’t you?” Mu Qing snapped back.
“Thirty minutes isn’t enough for your long ass excursions in the cultural book section, or for you to sit in the cafe and find something wrong with whatever book you pick up.” Feng Xin’s voice was still loud. Xie Lian was just grateful there were no other customers.
“I’m just here to pick something up,” Mu Qing said. “If you don’t have anything of worth to say, then fuck off.”
Feng Xin did not listen. He went over to pester him some more, though blessedly, he was quieter about it.
Xie Lian pulled the carts through the shelves, putting each book back where it belonged. The rain lightened somewhat as he worked, but it still pattered against the roof and against the high windows. He couldn’t remember if his umbrella was in the backpack he brought to work.
Mu Qing was standing at the register with Feng Xin by the time they were about to lock the doors. Mu Qing looked more subdued now as he watched Feng Xin’s hands wrap the book up and put it into a bag. Xie Lian wondered, not for the first time, if they were one of those pairs that had the bond. He didn’t think that two people who appeared to hate the other so much would keep coming back to one another like that. And in these moments, where they were both quiet, Mu Qing always looked very pensive when he stared at Feng Xin, and Feng Xin always looked just a little bit fond. And then Mu Qing would leave, and he always seemed terribly reluctant. And Feng Xin would watch him go from wherever he stood, eyes glued until the door shut and Mu Qing was out of sight.
Feng Xin, as usual, looked almost bereft when Mu Qing left. He stood at the counter and stared at the door, even though Mu Qing had already left.
Xie Lian brought the empty cart back up to the front desk. “He came late today, didn’t he? Normally he comes earlier.”
Feng Xin blinked and looked away from the door. He began clearing up the desk, heavy handed and rushed. “Who’s keeping track?”
Xie Lian couldn’t help but smile. He moved to the computer to turn it off. “I can finish closing up. I don’t think Mu Qing had an umbrella. Maybe you could go with him. He’ll ruin the book he just purchased.”
Feng Xin paused at the counter and fiddled with the rag that was in his hand. “You’re right—he didn’t have an umbrella.”
Xie Lian didn’t look at him, since he knew that it would set Feng Xin off. “It’s really starting to rain, too.”
He could hear Feng Xin swallowing audibly.
“I wonder if there was a reason he came so late,” Xie Lian continued. “I wonder if something happened… and he came all this way for the book, just to be rained on.”
Feng Xin’s voice was strained when he spoke. “You’re sure you’re alright closing?”
“Yeah, of course,” Xie Lian said easily. “I’ve done it lots of times.”
“Okay,” he said, “I’ll go. See you soon, Xie Lian.”
Without another word, Feng Xin was moving to the back to grab his things. Barely a moment later, he was already rushing back out and leaving the bookstore. Through the window, Xie Lian could see him start to jog after Mu Qing. Xie Lian laughed a little bit and finished shutting down the computer and the register.
The bookstore was quiet now, except for the sound of the rain. Xie Lian finished wiping down the counter. The small coffee area had already been cleaned, so Xie Lian turned out the lights. The only lights that were on were towards the back, where the employee break room was, and the offices for the owners. Xie lian found his eyes drifting back towards the book that he’d put up for Hua Cheng. Thinking about him was like pressing on a bruise. It hurt, but was impossible to stop doing.
Xie Lian found another misplaced book on one of the tables of new releases, and grabbed it. He moved deeper into the shelves and put it away. It was dark in the bookstore now, and Xie Lian wished that he could stay.
Just as he set the book up, the bell on the door rang. Xie Lian frowned and went to peer around the shelf. But something in his chest felt light, so he did not feel afraid. They were several minutes past closing however, so Xie Lian moved around the shelf to speak. “I’m sorry, but we’re…”
Hua Cheng was standing a few steps into the bookshop. He was looking around, and when Xie Lian spoke, his eyes found him. He was wearing a long coat and carrying a red umbrella. It dripped steadily onto the carpet as he stared at him.
“San Lang,” Xie Lian breathed.
Hua Cheng stared at him, and even though he had an umbrella, his hair looked a little damp. His lips spread into a slow, pleased smile. “Gege,” he said back. “I’m glad I caught you.”
Xie Lian stepped towards him, he didn’t even realize his feet were moving until he was able to see the glittering of Hua Cheng’s eyes, and the water droplets on his coat. “It’s late,” he murmured. “I thought you couldn’t come today.”
“I didn’t want to wait,” Hua Cheng said, tilting his head in a somewhat boyish way. His smile was easy and warm. “I came straight from work. I’m sorry if I’m keeping you from going home.”
Xie Lian was shaking his head before the words had finished coming out of Hua Cheng’s mouth. “No, please don’t apologize.” It felt like all the tension that he’d accumulated throughout the day completely melted in Hua Cheng’s presence.
Hua Cheng’s smile widened imperceptibly. But Xie Lian was watching him so closely it would have been impossible to miss. “Are you preparing to go?”
Xie Lian nodded as he swallowed. His throat felt tight.
“Why don’t I walk gege home?” Hua Cheng asked. “If… you’re comfortable with that.”
Perhaps he shouldn’t have been, but Xie Lian did not care. He nodded again. “I’m comfortable with that.”
Hua Cheng’s smile widened again.
“Let me grab my things,” Xie Lian murmured. He turned once Hua Cheng gestured for him to go, and he walked to the back. As soon as he was out of sight, he was pressing a hand to his chest, where it felt tight, like he couldn’t breathe. He grabbed his backpack and slid it on. He turned to go back to Hua Cheng, and he felt like nothing had felt more right, more natural. It was like he’d known him for a thousand years and could not be satisfied with only a thousand more. He was certain that he needed forever.
He turned out the last of the lights and grabbed the keys to lock up. Hua Cheng was still waiting for him near the front, but he was off to the side, looking through the books that were displayed at the entrance.
Xie Lian paused somewhat, steps slowing as he looked at him. Hua Cheng was so tall, and so elegant. He stood straight and proud. His long, dark hair was like a waterfall of darkness, and the silver and red earrings he wore glittered and sang every time he moved. Something in Xie Lian’s chest twinged, and it was almost like a physical pain with how strong it was.
He stopped beside Hua Cheng, hand clenching the strap of his backpack. Hua Cheng turned to look at him, and he smiled again. His eyes took Xie Lian in, as if he hadn’t seen him just a moment before. Xie Lian forgot that he’d just done the same, and instead felt lost in the way Hua Cheng devoured him.
“Are you ready, gege?”
Xie Lian nodded. “Yes. Are you?”
Hua Cheng stepped closer to him. “Always.”
Xie Lian didn’t move. He felt completely entranced by him.
Hua Cheng looked him over, gentle expression changing somewhat. “Does gege not have an umbrella?”
Xie Lian blinked and then took his backpack off of his shoulder. He dug around inside and came up empty. He put it back over his shoulder and smiled a little weakly. “No. I forgot it, I suppose.”
Hua Cheng sucked his teeth lightly in disapproval. “Gege, if I hadn’t come, you would have gotten a cold, walking alone in the rain with nothing but a sweater.”
Xie Lian stepped towards him, so they were only about a foot apart. “It’s good you came then, San Lang.”
Hua Cheng looked down at him, eyes a little wide, body frozen. He looked flustered, and Xie Lian felt almost giddy with the knowledge that he’d been able to do that. It was dark in the bookstore now, the only light from the streetlights just outside. Despite this, Hua Cheng still stared at him as if he were illuminated by the sun.
“Are you ready?” Xie Lian asked. He reached out, hand just shy of shaking, and held onto Hua Cheng’s wrist.
Hua Cheng turned his hand up to hold onto Xie Lian in turn. His fingers were gentle where they rested over Xie Lian’s knitted sweater. “Yes. You’ll have to stick close to me, gege, so the rain doesn’t hit you.”
Xie Lian pressed in, head completely tilted up to look at him. “That’s no problem for me, San Lang. Is it alright with you? Do you mind?”
“Not at all, gege,” he breathed, hand tightening.
Xie Lian smiled again, but he felt breathless. “Good. Let’s go then.”
Their walk back to Xie Lian’s apartment building was slow and indulgent, as if it wasn’t raining, as if their arms weren’t getting drenched with rain where the umbrella didn’t quite cover them. It only took a few minutes for Xie Lian to lean into Hua Cheng’s side and hold onto his arm. His fingers were loose at first, a little shy and a little apprehensive, but as they walked, and as Hua Cheng’s voice wafted over to Xie Lian, he found his fingers tightening, holding, caressing.
“Do you walk this far every day, gege?” Hua Cheng asked, after they’d been walking for twenty minutes.
Xie Lian nodded, and realized how close he was when he felt his hair shifting against Hua Cheng’s sleeve. “It’s not so bad. It’s quicker when I’m alone and it’s not raining.”
“We can go faster,” Hua Cheng said immediately, turning to look down at him. “Are you cold?”
Xie Lian turned his head up to meet his gaze. He let out a small puff of breath when their gazes met. “No, San Lang,” he said lowly. “I’m very warm.”
Hua Cheng’s expression softened and reached up to tap his chin lightly. “Me too, gege.”
Xie Lian smiled at him and then turned back to keep looking at the sidewalk. He stepped over a puddle, even though the bottoms of his pants were already wet from the puddles he’d stepped in earlier when he wasn’t paying enough attention. Without even really considering it, Xie Lian leaned his head on Hua Cheng’s upper arm. He watched Hua Cheng’s hand tighten where he was holding the umbrella and he felt even warmer than before. He turned into him a little more, nuzzled in a little closer. His mind felt hazy with it, with the feeling of Hua Cheng under his fingers. His smell wafted up and around Xie Lian, enveloping him and making him feel fuzzy and consumed.
“San Lang,” Xie Lian sighed, barely aware of the words leaving his mouth.
Hua Cheng’s grip on the umbrella tightened again.
Xie Lian watched his hand with a small smile. Even Hua Cheng’s hands were beautiful. His hands looked strong and sure, purposeful in each grip, each movement. “San Lang,” he said again.
Hua Cheng breathed in deeply, deep enough that Xie Lian could feel the expansion of his chest from where his head rested on his shoulder. Xie Lian turned a little, so his nose and mouth were pressed into the fabric of Hua Cheng’s coat.
Despite their slow pace, they reached Xie Lian’s apartment building not ten minutes later. Xie Lian felt that disappointment begin to well up again. He wasn’t sure what else to call it. It was more than disappointment. It felt like devastation. It felt like ripping out his own soul.
They stopped in front of Xie Lian’s building and Xie Lian turned to face him, hand still on Hua Cheng’s arm, and Hua Cheng’s hand still holding the umbrella between them. “This is my building,” he murmured, looking up at him.
Hua Cheng’s gaze was glued to Xie Lian’s face. “Rest well, gege,” he murmured. “Don’t try to walk home in the rain without an umbrella again. Otherwise I’ll have to come back to walk you home.”
“I’m never bringing my umbrella again,” Xie Lian breathed.
Hua Cheng laughed lowly and stepped closer to lean in. “Gege knows best.”
“Will you be ok walking home?” Xie Lian asked. “I don’t want you to get hurt or sick or—or something.”
“I’ll be alright,” he said gently. He reached out with his free hand and caught a few wet strands of Xie Lian’s hair. He tucked it away from Xie Lian’s face. “Gege shouldn’t worry.”
Xie Lian chewed lightly on his lip as he looked at him. He did not want Hua Cheng to go.
Hua Cheng’s hand drifted from the side of his head to Xie Lian’s cheek then to his chin. His thumb dusted along the edge of his lip and then gently tugged, pulling Xie Lian’s lip from his teeth. Once freed, his thumb then traced over where it was red. His eyes watched Xie Lian’s mouth, and his own lips parted, as if in awe, as if in reverence.
Xie Lian felt dizzy. He reached up and held onto Hua Cheng’s wrist. He thought about how he wanted to see him again. He thought about how he didn’t want this to be the end. And then he remembered, and relief filled him, and he exhaled Hua Cheng’s name like he got to share the most wonderful news in the world. “San Lang,” he said.
“Yes?” Hua Cheng murmured, thumb still brushing over his lip, looking completely bewitched.
“San Lang, I forgot to give you your book,” he said, stepping closer eagerly. “I’m sorry,” he continued, not sounding very sorry.
Hua Cheng smiled slow as his gaze dragged up Xie Lian’s face and he met Xie Lian’s. “Then I’ll just have to come visit you again, gege.”
Xie Lian nodded. “Yes. You’ll have to come back to get your book.”
Hua Cheng nodded, too. “I hope I don’t forget it again. Then I’d have to come back a fourth time.”
“Maybe a fifth, if you forget again,” Xie Lian whispered.
Hua Cheng stepped even closer. “Or a sixth,” he said, hand turning to brush his fingers along Xie Lian’s. His fingers slotted gently between Xie Lian’s, dipping in and out, tracing over his palm. “Or a seventh, or eighth.”
Xie Lian’s own fingers moved with his, answering every brush of fingers with a gentle sweep of his own. “You’ll just have to keep coming back, until you remember.”
“Alright,” Hua Cheng agreed easily. “I’ll come back forever then.”
__________
The following day, Xie Lian had felt like an empty pot. Hua Cheng had left him in his apartment, and Xie Lian watched him go for as long as he could. He had gotten ready for bed, mind full of Hua Cheng. He had been awake for hours, thinking of Hua Cheng, thinking of everything that had happened between them over and over, and then he thought of it some more. He thought of the curve of his lips, the slope of his brow, and the feeling of Hua Cheng’s hands.
He’d been right that being home was worse. He found little motivation to do anything aside from lying in his bed and thinking of Hua Cheng. Not only did he feel like he could not move without him, he also found that there was simply nothing worth his time more than thinking of him.
Xie Lian tried to read a book, but he found that he couldn’t focus on anything that tried to romanticize what could simply not be as good and wonderful as Hua Cheng. By noon, Xie Lian found himself sitting beside his window, gazing out at the street below as he thought of everything—of how right and good and true it all felt when it wouldn’t have for anyone else.
He found himself thinking of Feng Xin and Mu Qing. They’d been the only people that Xie Lian knew who he’d stopped to consider whether they had the bond. He’d never met anyone before who seemed so drawn together. It made him wonder. But Feng Xin and Mu Qing—they fought so frequently. Xie Lian still didn’t feel like he had a good grip on what the bond was, or what it felt like. It was already rare enough as it was. Common enough to be a known phenomenon, but infrequent.
Xie Lian’s cell phone rang while he was still staring out the window and watching people walk by. He answered it after glancing at the screen. It was the bookstore.
“Xie Lian, what the hell is this book doing on the hold shelf?” Feng Xin immediately demanded. “It just says ‘hold.’ What the fuck does that mean? Who’s it for? I was looking for another customer’s order and saw this. What if they come to pick it up today?”
“He won’t,” Xie Lian said, more assured than maybe he should have been. “He’ll come tomorrow, when I’m working.”
Feng Xin was quiet for a moment. “Was that who you were talking to on the phone yesterday? Who is that guy anyway?”
“Ahh…” How could Xie Lian explain it? How could he explain Hua Cheng? Perhaps he should have paid more attention what those books said and how they described pure and utter beauty.
“Well, it’s not like it matters,” Feng Xin muttered, after Xie Lian’s hesitation. “It’s not like I’ll know who he is anyway. Did he already pay?”
Xie Lian blinked. “No.”
“We aren’t supposed to hold books that no one paid for,” Feng Xin reminded him, voice a little dry.
Xie Lian pursed his lips. “We aren’t supposed to berate customers when they come in thirty minutes before closing either.”
Feng Xin went deathly silent for a moment. “Listen here, Xie Lian—” He cut himself off, after a promising start with a hissing voice. “Shit.”
“What?” Xie Lian asked curiously.
“He’s here.”
For a moment, Xie Lian thought he meant Hua Cheng, and he felt a cataclysmic wave of disappointment.
But then Feng Xin muttered, “this motherfucker” under his breath, and Xie Lian breathed out slightly in relief. “He always shows up at the worst times.”
“Mu Qing?” Xie Lian verified, though he already knew. Feng Xin was good at hiding his delight when Mu Qing came, but after a while of it, Xie Lian was able to pick up the subtleties of the way Feng Xin’s angry snapping was actually eagerness.
“Yeah,” he muttered. “He went straight to the cafe though, so I don’t have to deal with his annoying ass.”
“Is it really annoying though?” Xie lian asked curiously, unable to help himself. Ever since Hua Cheng, he’d been dying to ask.
“Of course he is,” Feng Xin grumbled. “All he does is come in and complain and take up space.”
Xie Lian put his chin in his hand. “But what if he never came back?” He asked. “What if one day, he didn’t come, and you never saw him again?”
Feng Xin was quiet again, for several long moments.
“And just last night—you went after him in the rain.”
Feng Xin’s voice was strained when he spoke next. “So what? I’m a good… bookstore employee… I didn’t want him to ruin the book he just bought.”
Xie Lian pursed his lips again. “Alright, so you really wouldn’t be bothered if he never came back again? If he never picked a book up and went straight to you to complain about it? Or what if he went to me to complain? Or someone else?”
Feng Xin’s silence was telling. “Has he?” He muttered uncomfortably. “Has he ever complained to someone else, when I’m not working?”
Xie Lian suppressed a smile. “No, Feng Xin.”
Feng Xin exhaled, like a breath of relief, but he tried to hide it by disguising it as a sigh.
“You still haven’t answered though—what would you do, if he never came back, and if you never saw him again?”
“That wouldn’t happen,” Feng Xin snapped eventually, sounding defensive. “It just wouldn’t.”
“How do you know?” Xie Lian prodded. “You said all he does is complain. Maybe someday he’ll get bored of it and will move on to something else.”
“He wouldn’t.”
Xie Lian blinked a few times as he watched a person drop their bag of groceries. They picked them up, placing a few fallen items back in the bag before they kept walking, leaving a small notepad behind. He softened his voice to something less challenging and more of an inquiry. “How do you know?” He asked again.
“I don’t know,” Feng Xin muttered impatiently. “I just know.”
“What happened, when you caught up to him last night?”
Feng Xin sounded embarrassed. “He whacked me with his bag with the book inside.”
Xie Lian couldn’t help but laugh. “Really? What then?”
“I shouted at him,” he muttered.
“Did you walk him home anyway?”
“Yeah,” he said quietly.
Xie Lian laughed again. “Why do you fight so much, when you’re so special to each other?”
“I’m not—he’s not—we’re not—” He sputtered.
Xie Lian rested his head against his window. Even though he didn’t understand wanting to fight all the time, he also understood where Feng Xin was coming from. It was how they began, and there was comfort and joy in that. There was pleasure in having something unique, even if it was arguing. There was contentment in knowing that the other wouldn’t do it with anyone else.
Feng Xin paused to try and compose himself. “We are not—" he hissed, pausing to lower his voice. “—special to each other.”
Xie Lian had never heard anyone so vehemently deny that they cherished someone when no one else on the planet could claim their attention so effortlessly. Xie Lian wished Feng Xin would at least admit it, so that he could ask him what it felt like. But even still, asking this much had helped—whether or not Hua Cheng was Xie Lian’s bond, Xie Lian felt enamored by him regardless.
“Alright,” Xie Lian acquiesced anyway. “You aren’t special to each other.”
Feng Xin grew quiet again. Xie Lian knew what he must have been thinking. He didn’t know how, but he knew that Feng Xin felt unsettled, that it didn’t seem right to say that, or think it, or to have someone else say it.
“Regardless,” Xie Lian continued, “the book is for San Lang. Don’t worry about it, Feng Xin, I’ll take care of it. I’ll see you in a few days.”
“Whatever,” Feng Xin muttered. “Bye.”
Xie Lian held back another laugh and hung up. He set his phone down beside him on the floor and then looked back outside. Someone picked up the item the person had dropped and followed after them.
__________
Xie Lian opened the bookstore the following day. He was scheduled for the afternoon, but he couldn’t do those extra few hours alone at home. The store opened at eight in the morning, and he got there at seven-thirty. He had just unlocked the doors when the clock struck eight times. He walked away from the door and made his way towards the back to begin unboxing a new shipment. The shipment had been early, waiting for him when he’d arrived.
It was a small shipment, so Xie Lian set the box on the counter and cut it open. He began stacking the books onto the counter and then tossed the empty box aside. He began placing the books on the cart just as the bell above the door rang. Xie Lian pushed the cart out from behind the counter. Then he felt a tug in his chest, and he looked up, just as a voice sounded out.
“Gege,” he breathed, once their eyes met.
Xie Lian froze. It felt like his entire chest had been crushed. What a beloved feeling, he thought dazedly. “San Lang.”
Hua Cheng seemed to be framed by light, even though it was stormy again. The sky was dark with the gray clouds, but it felt like the sun was shining straight into Xie Lian’s heart.
“You’re here,” Xie Lian said, fingers gripping the cart. “So early…”
“Not too early, I hope,” Hua Cheng said. He took a few steps towards him. No one else was in the store. Few people came in the morning. It was normally slow until lunchtime.
“Never,” Xie Lian said.
Hua Cheng stopped by the cart. He placed a hand against it and leaned in. “I couldn’t wait until the evening.”
“What about your work?” Xie Lian asked, breath shallow. He felt like he couldn’t pull in a full breath. But he also felt like it’d been the first time he’d breathed since parting in front of his apartment building.
Hua Cheng shook his head. “Nothing could be more important than gege.”
“San Lang,” Xie Lian said, cheeks flushing.
“Yes, gege?” Hua Cheng asked, eyes glued to his face, as if in awe at the sight of him flustered. Perhaps it was awe that he was the one who’d made Xie Lian that way. Xie Lian wasn’t sure why, but he got the feeling that Hua Cheng maybe felt reverent that he even got to see it at all.
“Did you… consider coming back to my apartment yesterday? To see me?” Xie Lian couldn’t be sure why he asked. But he’d wanted to know—because if he’d known where Hua Cheng worked, he felt that he might have found himself there yesterday if he’d been able to.
Hua Cheng swallowed and met his gaze again. He nodded a little. “I did consider it.”
Xie Lian took a step towards him before he was finished considering whether or not to do it. “I wanted you to.”
Hua Cheng looked struck by him, eyes widening just slightly, lips parting, expression turning with a wanting that felt like a perfect mirror of Xie Lian’s own predicament.
Xie Lian still had a hand on the cart, and he gripped it a little tighter, hoping that he wouldn’t embarrass himself by falling. His knees felt a little weak. “I wish you had.”
Hua Cheng’s face twisted, almost as if in anguish. “Gege—”
“If I had known where you were, I would have found you instead.” His voice was low, settling on the air as unobtrusively as he could. Whatever this was between them felt delicate. Not weak or powerless, but sensitive and tender. Xie Lian would treat it with care, until it got used to the feel of them, until it was able to be held and squeezed and gripped with the constant aching Xie Lian had been feeling since he’d seen him for the first time.
Hua Cheng stepped closer to him, and then paused, as if catching himself. His jaw tightened and his own hand tightened on the cart, too.
“Don’t,” Xie Lian said softly, a plea more than anything else. He took a shuffling step forward. “Don’t elude me. Not unless you want to.”
“Never,” Hua Cheng said, voice firm and certain and almost angry. “I would never want that.”
Xie Lian’s head swam. His hand made an audible noise where he gripped the cart harder. “San Lang,” he whispered.
Hua Cheng’s hand reached out, and his fingers connected with the skin of Xie Lian’s cheek. Xie Lian let out a breath, almost a gasp, and Hua Cheng breathed out at the same time, as if giving him his breath. His thumb swiped a line along Xie Lian’s cheek.
“It hurts, when you aren’t around,” Xie Lian said.
Hua Cheng let out a groan and stepped into him. He placed his other hand on the other side of Xie Lian’s face and dipped to press their foreheads together. “Gege.”
“I mean it,” Xie Lian said, strained. “I don’t know how to explain it. I don’t know what it is. But I don’t really care what it is or what it means, or if I can make it sound exactly how it feels. It just hurts, and I can’t do anything anymore, I can’t focus, I can’t think, I can’t do any of it.”
Hua Cheng tilted his head and their noses brushed together. “This one apologizes,” he said weakly. “I don’t mean to be a hindrance to gege’s—”
“No,” Xie Lian said, perhaps a touch too sharp, too desperate. He reached up to grab Hua Cheng’s wrists. “No, don’t say that to me.”
Hua Cheng nudged into him. “It is a privilege beyond my comprehension that you would say these things to me, for I have done nothing to deserve it.”
Xie Lian tilted up into him. “It’s not about deserving, it’s about wanting and needing and—” He stopped when the feeling in his chest pulsed. It was violently painful in its goodness. He swallowed. “San Lang, tell me you feel the same way,” he pleaded. His fingers dug into the underside of Hua Cheng’s wrist, where he could feel the pulse of his blood under his skin. Hua Cheng’s heartbeat was quick.
“You have consumed me,” he breathed. His lips brushed against Xie Lian’s cheek. “I can’t stop thinking of you. I feel like I’ll never stop. Now that I know you, I cannot imagine a single part of me that will not gravitate towards you, shift to you, be pulled to you.”
And that’s what it’d turned into, really. Everything was before and after. There was before Hua Cheng, and after Hua Cheng. There was a marked change, a significant difference. Xie Lian could feel it in his bones, and in the way his blood pumped through his veins. He could feel the difference in the parts of himself he hadn’t even been aware of.
He’d heard people talk of having an inner knowledge of direction, people saying that they instinctually knew where north was without a compass. Xie Lian was not one of those people, and he’d never understood what they meant. He understood now. Hua Cheng was Xie Lian’s true north, and Xie Lian could feel him in the air he breathed. His chest tugged him where Hua Cheng went, and where Hua Cheng moved, Xie Lian would follow.
Xie Lian shut his eyes, and he felt Hua Cheng’s breath fan across his face. “San Lang.” It sounded almost like a whine, but Xie Lian couldn’t find it in himself to feel embarrassed. Not when Hua Cheng’s fingers twitched against his jaw, as if reining in the urge to squeeze and grip him harder.
Hua Cheng’s hands slid further back, fingers getting caught in the tresses of Xie Lian’s hair. He turned, so his face nuzzled against Xie Lian’s, like he wanted to get closer, but wouldn’t ask for any more.
Xie Lian stepped forward, feet slotting between Hua Cheng’s. He trailed his hands down Hua Cheng’s arms, then down his sides. “Closer,” he whispered.
Hua Cheng stepped closer. His hand moved to Xie Lian’s nape and he pulled. Xie Lian went pliantly, head tilting up farther, and his back arching to press into him as he neared. Hua Cheng’s other hand wrapped around his waist. “So warm, gege.”
Xie Lian’s cheeks heated, but he felt pleasant. He nodded. “Very warm.”
Hua Cheng’s lips found Xie Lian’s jaw. He kissed him once.
Xie Lian gasped, fingers digging into Hua Cheng’s sides, where he was holding onto him. He brought his hands up and tangled them in Hua Cheng’s hair. His fingers caught on a few small braids woven imperceptibly into Hua Cheng’s hair, and he used it to pull. He pressed their lips together.
Hua Cheng let out a small moan, yanking Xie Lian closer, so their fronts were flush together. Xie Lian breathed heavily against him, arms wrapping around his neck and pulling himself up to press as close as he could get. “Gege,” Hua Cheng exhaled.
Xie Lian let out his own small sound, hands roaming to touch Hua Cheng’s skin, where he felt desperate to caress and feel. He felt like he couldn’t go without it again, without him. His blood was singing, his bones, too, and every other part of him with it. He felt like he’d been revitalized, brought back to life, as if he’d been dormant for hundreds of years.
Hua Cheng softened a moment later, like all of the shock and excitement melted out of him, and he was left with only affection and indulgent warmth. Xie Lian relaxed with him, puddling into Hua Cheng’s embrace. Xie Lian’s kiss softened, too, and Hua Cheng responded in kind. His mouth moved gently against Xie Lian’s. A hundred years passed in a moment. There was the reunion, and then desperate relief, and the excitement, and then the settling of what was and would be.
Xie Lian pulled back just enough to breathe, though their lips still brushed. “San Lang,” he murmured.
“Yes, gege,” Hua Cheng said breathlessly. He kissed Xie Lian’s bottom lip. “Tell me what you want and I will give it.”
Xie Lian smiled a little and turned up into him again. “You, just you.”
Hua Cheng breathed out shakily. “Take me then.”
Xie Lian’s brows furrowed as his face scrunched up. “I feel like I’ve been waiting for you my entire life.”
Hua Cheng held his face and pulled his lips back to his own. “That’s because I’ve been looking for you. Ever since I could breathe, see, and walk, I’ve been searching for you.”
Xie Lian held his wrist again. “Thank you for finding me. Stay, now, San Lang. Stay with me.”
Hua Cheng ducked his head, as if bowing. “For as long as you’ll have me.”
__________
Hua Cheng did not go to work. He’d spent it in the bookstore, hovering around Xie Lian and helping him where he could, even when Xie Lian insisted that he not do anything. Xie Lian had found it charming, the way Hua Cheng moved around the bookstore, not as if it was his own, but that he would learn it, since it was a part of Xie Lian.
Any lull, even for just a moment, and Hua Cheng was brushing his hand along Xie Lian’s arm, or Xie Lian was stepping close to squeeze his hand, or they would meet in the middle and pressed that same warmth to the other’s lips. The feeling of it never faded. There was nothing about it that felt like it could ever become mundane or average. Every brush of skin felt like electricity.
And when they left for the day and Hua Cheng walked Xie Lian home, they stood in Xie Lian’s doorway. He whispered quietly in the hollow of Hua Cheng’s throat, like a secret, “You didn’t grab your book.”
Hua Cheng’s hands were on Xie Lian’s waist, and Xie Lian felt like he couldn’t focus on anything else. He clenched his fingers along the lapel of Hua Cheng’s coat. He pulled himself closer and nosed along Hua Cheng’s skin. One of Hua Cheng’s hands drifted up to stroke through Xie Lian’s hair. “How tragic,” he murmured. His lips were at Xie Lian’s temple now, the movement of his words and breath tickling.
Xie Lian smiled and rested the side of his head on Hua Cheng’s chest. “I guess you’ll have to come back then.”
“Gege will have to remind me to pick it up. I find myself to be very distracted when I’m in your presence.”
“Alright,” Xie Lian agreed, already deciding that he’d never remind him ever again.
“Are you thinking about never reminding me, gege?”
Xie Lian flushed, but he laughed.
Hua Cheng held his face and guided him until their gazes met. His eyes were like pools of affection, endlessly warm and inviting. Xie Lian felt so enchanted by him. “Maybe it will mysteriously disappear and I’ll have to just wait for the next shipment to come in.”
Xie Lian reached up and held Hua Cheng’s face, too. His fingers brushed gently over Hua Cheng’s cheeks. “San Lang,” he said gently.
“Yes, gege,” he said immediately.
Xie Lian smiled a little wider. He kissed Hua Cheng’s lips lightly, as if in gratitude. Hua Cheng leaned into him. “What do you think about all of this? I’ve only known you a few days. Do you feel—Is it too…”
“No one on this planet could convince me that it’s only been a few days,” he said, convicted in a way Xie Lian wasn’t sure he’d heard anyone sound before.
“No one could convince me either,” Xie Lian admitted.
His mind drifted as Hua Cheng’s hands flexed against his jaw and throat, and as his lips brushed along Xie Lian’s cheek. He thought of the bond and how he’d always felt like there was something tying them together, from the moment he’d seen him. He thought of how it was like he’d always had a space inside of him, waiting to be filled, and he hadn’t known it was empty until Hua Cheng had come to fill it.
“San Lang,” he said again.
And again, Hua Cheng said, “Yes, gege.”
Xie Lian pulled back just enough to look at his face. “You know of bonds, don’t you?”
Hua Cheng nodded.
“Do you think that we are?”
Hua Cheng kissed him.
Xie Lian let out a small noise. He tangled a hand in Hua Cheng’s hair, until to help but tug him closer.
“Sorry,” Hua Cheng breathed, before kissing him again. “I apologize, gege. You’re simply too irresistible, especially when you say things like that.”
Xie Lian understood the sentiment. He let his lips linger against Hua Cheng’s. He hummed lightly.
“I do think so,” Hua Cheng said, breathy and meek, but also sure and convinced. “It has to be. I know things about you. Things I shouldn’t know.”
Xie Lian pulled further back. “What do you mean?”
Hua Cheng brushed his hair away from his face. “I know what would upset you. I know what would make you happy. I know that no one could be greater than you, no one could be kinder, stronger, smarter. I know that no one deserves to step foot on the ground you’ve walked on.”
Xie Lian blinked up at him, and his cheeks felt warm again, and he felt like he knew him. “San Lang?” He asked, as if he was seeing him again after having lost him.
Hua Cheng smiled, as if saying yes, it’s me again.
Xie Lian’s eyes felt misty, wet with the fullness in his chest.
“I know that I’m not worthy of you,” Hua Cheng breathed. “I know that I’d do anything for you and I know you would deserve infinitely more than I can give.”
Xie Lian felt an overwhelming feeling expand in his ribcage, like a balloon. “San Lang,” he croaked.
“I know you,” Hua Cheng said. “I promise that I know you. I would not be myself if you were not the very center of me.”
Xie Lian pulled him back down, so their foreheads were pressed together. “You’re the only thing that ever makes sense,” Xie Lian said. He sounded almost pained with it, even to his own ears. “San Lang, you’re the only thing that seems right. You’re the only thing I’ve ever wanted, just for me.”
Hua Cheng wrapped his arms around his waist and held him close. “If it’s what you wish, you can have all of me.”
Xie Lian felt whatever it was that drew them together was humming. His breath quickened. “Kiss me again.”
Hua Cheng was dipping to press their lips together before the words had fully left his mouth.
No one really knew what the bond was, or what it meant, or where it came from. No one knew what triggered it, if anything at all. No one knew what it did to a person, no one knew a single thing about it, beyond that it was felt, and some people were drawn to one another, like soulmates. But now, with Hua Cheng, Xie Lian knew. Because, as it would seem, he’d known Hua Cheng forever. He’d known him in every life he’d ever lived, and he’d know him in every life thereafter.