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( I.i.
"Leave out my name from the gift if it be a burden, but keep my song."
— Rabindranath Tagore.
)
Hei Xiazi never mentioned his name when he talked about him to Wu Xie. Why would he?
Aside from being inaccurate, there was no need to use a name that didn't fully represent or referred to someone if he was talking to the only person who knew him.
He didn't know how Wu Xie did it, but the connection they had surpassed the mundane - it was absolute, transcendent.
Therefore, once again, he didn't even bother to clarify it when he sent the message to Wu Xie. He would understand it, he always did.
Wu Xie received Hei Xiazi’s message around 4pm: 'He’s heading back now-
The first line of text was enough for him to get up on his feet and dart towards the main entrance. He wasn’t aware that his eyes were ablaze with excitement, but he knew his heart skipped a beat before it started hammering his ribcage.
Finally.
He abruptly turned on his heels and rushed, without noticing that a knowing smile had spread across Pangzi’s face as he heard him, when he passed by the kitchen.
He reached the main door, opened it, and suppressed a shiver when the cold Winter wind welcomed him like a whip.
Then, he sat down near the right pillar that framed the porch – it felt slightly warmer under the sun.
He looked at is mobile phone again and, this time, he read the whole message: 'He’s heading back now. I’ll go water the devious flower. See ya, Xiao San-ye'
Wu Xie smiled; Xiao Hua and Hei Xiazi had been playing that game for decades. They’d biker with each other on permanent competition to ascertain which of them excelled or was more capable at whatever, but they’d be ready to kill whoever dared to utter a word against the other. They were perfect for each other, constantly challenging one another and growing together. In the silence of his mind and only to himself, Wu Xie could admit that, on very rare occasions, when he was numb or disheartened, he would fleetingly wish he’d be able to provide that kind of partnership. However, whenever he thought about it, memories of him, of them, flooded his brain, dissipating in a fraction of second his darker thoughts. That man was everything he ever needed, everything he truly wished for himself. Therefore, if he deemed Wu Xie to be worthy of being his partner, who was Wu Xie to dare even think questioning that?
He sighed. He was on his way.
His belly tingled and his smile grew wider. He’d wait for him there since he couldn’t contain himself with how eager he was to welcome him back. He felt like he was, what? Fifteen? It was amazing. That man was amazing, and he couldn’t wait to see him, to feel him.
Later on, he’d stubbornly refuse to go inside, so Pangzi would have dinner with him on the porch.
After that, he’d stubbornly refuse to go to bed, so Pangzi would build a cocoon of warm blankets over and around him.
Xiaoge was on his way.
( I.ii.
"All my life, my heart has sought a thing I cannot name. Remembered line from a long-forgotten poem."
— Hunter S. Thompson.
)
Mid-January wind kept on howling in his ears while he travelled soundlessly over the rooftops.
The moonlight was getting weaker as sunrise threatened to bath the sky in daylight, but it still was able to cast phantasmagorical shadows that hid him.
He was almost there.
He was almost there…
He should have arrived long ago.
He shouldn’t even have left.
But he was almost there, now.
A higher jump, a stronger impulse, a faster pace.
He landed gracefully right on top of Wushanju’s main gate, without a sound. The night lamps led the way to the shop’s entrance with dismay, slowly losing their strong presence due to the light that started to taint the sky.
He jumped down and slithered through the evaporating darkness. He was about to turn in the direction of the bedroom when he noticed the silhouette at the shop’s entrance.
He halted.
There it was - there he was.
After a fraction of second, his brow almost imperceptibly furrowed at the sight, but nothing else in his behaviour let out the displeasure he felt at the sight.
Who had let Wu Xie fall asleep on the steps of Wushanju’s shop entrance?
Why had he been allowed to stay there?
He got closer and assessed the scene.
Well, at least Wu Xie was tightly wrapped up in a pile of extremely warm-looking blankets. He had leaned on the right pillar that framed the porch, his sleep expression serene and peaceful, utterly unbothered by his surroundings. His untamed, wavy hair framed graciously his face. His long lashes lushly touched the pearly skin, and the tip of his nose was reddish. He breathed softly through his nose.
He took in every detail of that scene, engraving it in his brain. He didn’t know how long he indulged himself, but it had been long enough to slightly melt Zhang Qiling’s icy anger.
The sky had become even clearer.
The first rays of sunshine threatened to break out.
Wu Xie’s expression remained fully relaxed and composed when he parted his lips.
“I’ve noticed you.” He said with his eyes closed; a hint of a smile playing in his lips.
The other man could somewhat understand the degree of control it might have taken for Wu Xie to not move towards him. To not move at all.
It was all it took for Zhang Qiling’s remaining anger to fully melt and be replaced by Xiaoge’s mild annoyance which was easily swallowed by his emotions.
The care. The longing.
Even though the missing memories would never return, the missing piece of his heart fell into place. He felt whole. He felt flooded by happiness just for having the chance of finding him; of being able to return to him.
“Wu Xie.”
( I.iii.
"What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet."
— William Shakespeare.
)
The wind carried his voice.
Wu Xie’s heart resonated, and he opened his eyes.
There he was: a young man in full black attire, with his face partially hidden by the shadows of his large, raised hood. A lean figure, full of power. Glorious and utterly mesmerizing. It made his heart flutter, but it wasn’t the only reason why it was beating in a cacophony disarray.
Wu Xie was awake but felt dreamy.
“I wish I could call you by your name, too.” He stated the second he thought it; simple and direct.
Transparent.
Unapologetic.
Without evil.
Xiaoge tilted his head, in a silent question. He didn’t know how he could have reacted to that statement in the Past. Maybe he'd wonder who would he be without a name, and the bitter answer would lead him to reflect on the fact that he'd be little more than a faceless shadow. In that state of mind, he'd perhaps misinterpret those simple, innocent words. However, now he knew Wu Xie; he knew his essence held up to his name. Therefore, he was always interested in understanding and listening to Wu Xie’s thoughts, automatically inquiring before jumping to conclusions.
Wu Xie sighed and raised to his feet as he shook his head, finally slightly embarrassed at his own selfishness, at how he had voiced out his thoughts fogged with sleep and hypnotized by Xiaoge’s presence. He was well aware that if there was someone who wanted to know Xiaoge’s real name, that someone was himself. However, Xiaoge had asked him to elaborate, and he was no longer a frightened young man who couldn’t recognize his own selfishness and who’d retreat after realizing it. He now knew Xiaoge was curious and wanted to know everything, and that he would stay for as long as he could, despite anything.
He faced him as the pile of blankets fell to the ground and the rays of cool sunshine lightened the path between them. His words were sincere, as he accepted who he was, what he felt, and shared it with him, with a smile. In his movements, he had also unconsciously turned with open arms to Xiaoge, offering him a welcome hug (and so much more than that).
“I wish I could be able to make you feel what I feel when you pronounce my name.” Wu Xie clarified, eager to share how he wished Xiaoge could understand how special he made him feel.
Xiaoge remained silent, but his gaze never deviated from Wu Xie.
Then, he took off his hood.
A name could be precious, yes.
A name could represent and introduce something or someone as accurately as possible, as it did in Wu Xie's case.
However... did Wu Xie not know?
He took a step forward.
Did Wu Xie not know that Xiaoge had everything he needed?
Another step.
He had Wu Xie’s care.
He knew that Wu Xie had never, ever given up on him.
That Wu Xie protected him; had stood up for him.
Another couple of steps, in a faster pace; urgent in order to convey his feelings as soon as possible.
Wu Xie had cried for him.
Wu Xie had reached out to him, as he was doing now.
Xiaoge stepped into sunlight.
Wu Xie found him.
Wu Xie remembered him and would always remember him.
All of it, regardless of a name, was about him and for him, not anyone else.
He kept on moving forward, until he noticed a shadow of calculation flashed through Wu Xie’s beautiful features and a devious smile bloomed on his lips.
The next moment, Wu Xie gave impulse while Xiaoge waited, understandingly and invitingly. Wu Xie ran the remaining distance between them, jumped up and threw himself carelessly against him, hooking his legs around Xiaoge’s waist, and strongly embracing him, as if Xiaoge would disappear if he weren't held onto hard enough.
To make up for the bruising force, which didn't cause an once of discomfort on Xiaoge, Wu Xie planted a kiss on Xiaoge’s head, rubbed his cheek against his dark hair and caressed him wherever his hands where able to reach: the exposed skin of his neck, the curve of his shoulder, the centre of his soul.
“Damn, I’m old.”, Wu Xie gleefully protested after a beat of silence, with a wide grin that could be heard in his voice. “I missed you so, so much, Xiaoge.”
Xiaoge squeezed him tightly, but carefully, reassuring him that he was dearly missed as well. After, he eased Wu Xie down slowly and, as soon as possible, he pulled him again into his embrace, so that every inch of their bodies collided again against each other. His hand gently guided Wu Xie’s head to the curve of his neck, where it belonged. He breathed in the sweet yet powerful scent of Wu Xie. Sensitive, sensible, yet so very strong, mischievous, and cunning Wu Xie.
Wu Xie didn’t know his birth name and might never be able to call him by it. But he still called him, every single time, with every fibre of his whole being. Over and over and over again, throughout the years. Fleeting years for Xiaoge, some of them which he had even forgotten about, but precious years for Wu Xie; precious years of his too short life. Wu Xie had wasted them on Xiaoge without even consider for one second that it had been a waste.
Nothing could ever compare or come close to that.
Nothing could ever be more precious than that.
Than his devotion.
Than his love.
Than Wu Xie himself.
“Wu Xie.” Xiaoge whispered, as a sacred mantra, and tried to pull him even closer, which was not possible.
He felt Wu Xie’s endearing smile against his neck this time.
He shifted and put the necessary distance between them to cup Wu Xie’s face in his hands, caressing his cheeks with his tombs. He stared into those deep brown eyes, full of sweetness, full of warmth and so wonderfully alive. He hoped that, this time, his message could come across once again.
“Always hear you. Always feel you.”
( I.iv
"I am the one whose love overcomes you, already with you when you think to call my name."
— Jane Kenyon.
)
Wu Xie smiled with his eyes, a turmoil of emotion and intent threatening to overflow. The next second he clawed tighter and pulled the back of Xiaoge’s hoodie and tilted his head in a fast, confident, experienced succession of precise movements. Their months crashed against each other, their tongues immediately entwining. Wu Xie claimed Xiaoge’s lips, demandingly, yet so very needy and sweet, without caring about a thing other than the man he was finally, finally able to touch and drown into again. Xiaoge gave him everything, trying to calm him as he caressed his hair, telling him the desperation was appreciated, but also that they had time. He bit Wu Xie’s lip to convey his message in a better way and an answering growl spurred him on. He charged back with fire, full of passion, until they had to break apart to breathe.
Wu Xie's duality hit him full force as he first smirked cockily when Xiaoge followed him unconsciously, unwilling to break the kiss, and then pronounced, in the most endearing way, some of the most treasured words.
“Welcome home, Xiaoge.”
Xiaoge swallowed the emotional lump in his throat.
For the longest time, he did believe and accepted that he didn’t have a name, just a title, and didn’t have a home, just a place to sleep. He came to terms with the fact that his name and his home had been lost, forever. And then, he had met Wu Xie, the man in front of him, the man in his arms, who had overpowered the depths of Time, Conviction, and Certainty. Wu Xie’s pure will and inner power fuelled him to fight viciously hard against the most current use of an extremely common word, refusing to use it or let anyone use it in his presence in any other occasion or situation which wasn’t associated to someone's given name - his given name.
Innocent Wu Xie, dangerous Wu Xie, had brought back to him the most precious things which he himself had given up so long ago.
Xiaoge loved him; he loved him beyond Time and Death.
“I’m home.” He replied sternly, and kissed him again, full of passion and devotion.