Work Text:
He sees the bruise, blooming deep blue on Zhou Zishu's arm, and grabs it closer to examine. Anger begins to swirl menacingly in the pit of his stomach and he grasps the arm tighter, wanting the take the pain away even as he teases it, wanting to destroy the person who dare touch his shixiong.
"Shidi," Zhou Zishu says placatingly, the way he has developed when Wen Kexing's emotions start carrying him away, "it's ok. It doesn't hurt."
Wen Kexing doesn't care that it doesn't hurt. He cares that it's there in the first place, whether it be from place or practice, stark against clean skin. No-one should hurt his shixiong.
The seniors are worried about him.
No, not worried. Scared of him. "We must keep a careful watch on him," they say, "this is dangerous."
If only they knew.