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Jiang Cheng considers himself a fairly jaded person, but it turns out that even after 29 fairly… bumpy years on this planet, there are still experiences that can leave him reeling.
It’s not being newly single that has him at a loss—that part is unfortunately far too familiar. It’s the fact that, for the first time in his life, Jiang Cheng has been the one to break it off.
When he was on the other end of things, he’d imagined it differently; he’d thought his exes (and by extension, he) must feel relieved, or even powerful. Instead he feels like he’s floundering, the decision turning itself over and over in his head and leaving him unsure of what to do next.
He finds himself tagging along with Wei Ying to the Nies’. Not that he ever minds going over to the brothers’ place, but he’s so stuck on autopilot that he can’t call it any sort of conscious decision.
While Wei Ying and Nie Huaisang joke over dinner and then jostle over who gets the best controller, Jiang Cheng lapses into silence. It’s not noticeably strange behavior from him; not much is generally expected of him at these get togethers. At most, he and Nie Mingjue usually make a little more eye contact across the table to roll their eyes and pretend like they aren’t enjoying the antics. But tonight, all Jiang Cheng can manage is to nod where it’s appropriate and otherwise not engage.
All of his energy is focused on numbly scooping food into his mouth and pretending everything is fine. That he hasn’t made a huge fuckup. That staring down 30 while single is fine and that he shouldn’t have clung onto the relationship a little longer and a little harder to see it through. That he didn’t just need more time and patience to make prolonged misunderstandings and silences less painful and awkward.
That he didn’t just throw away his best shot at happiness with the one person who was willing to put up with him.
As grateful as he is for the distracting bustle his friends provide, it isn’t long before the living room starts to feel too small, shrinking around him. He slips out to the balcony in the back before the walls can completely collapse on him, leaning heavily against the apartment complex’s rough brick wall.
He half expects his rising panic to double in noise and despair once he’s alone, but he’s surprised to find that the air on the Nies’ balcony has never tasted cleaner. It’s a muggy summer night, thick air clinging to his skin and lungs, but he inhales deeply anyway, closing his eyes and letting himself be for a moment. The thoughts he’s been shoving down all night expand, but given space they feel less like an intruder trying to break through the doors of his brain, and more like a prowling beast of sorts, powerful but content to pace within the confines of his brain for the time being.
Alone for the first time, his thoughts circle endlessly around his ex, a white man with an uncomplicated relationship with his mother. Kind enough, handsome enough, indulgent enough. Jiang Cheng thinks about the little bewildered laugh he used to make, a sound Jiang Cheng heard so often over their year of dating that the laugh’s first note had begun to spark migraines.
At the very beginning of their relationship, his ex Clark had promised Jiang Cheng he’d stay by his side. He’d been the first person to pursue Jiang Cheng, and he’d been the first to keep his promise; in fact, he’d kept it long after Jiang Cheng had begun secretly to wish he’d break it. The longer they were together, the more Jiang Cheng had begun to feel… nondescript. Not unattractive, but not important either.
When Jiang Cheng had tried to talk about it, the unfamiliar attempt at communication turning his tongue into a thick paste in his mouth, his ex had just let out that little laugh again and said everything was fine. His gaze hadn’t even drifted from the tv in front of them as he gave Jiang Cheng’s shoulder a comforting pat.
But maybe Jiang Cheng should accept the blame for that. He’s never been skilled at expressing himself and it’s likely he’d just said the wrong words.
It had sent him into a frenzy, desperate to fix whatever inarticulable issues were there. If his ex couldn’t understand what he was trying to say, he would fix it on his own, steer his unruly emotions back on track for the most stable relationship he’d ever had. Jiang Cheng had spent half their relationship trying to change whatever parts of himself he could and hiding what he couldn’t, until he was aching and begging for a clean break.
And then, for the first time in his life, Jiang Cheng couldn’t take it anymore. He’d stepped away from a man he was lucky to have in the first place and into the unknown.
He wonders if his ex even cares that he’s gone or if he’s already been replaced.
“Beer?”
Nie Mingjue’s voice, low and rumbling, startles Jiang Cheng out of his thoughts and back into the sweltering July evening. He gratefully accepts the bottle, Nie Mingjue reaching over to snap the cap off. The heat has both of them sweating, but Jiang Cheng is certain that Nie Mingjue is pulling it off better than he is; the light sheen on Nie Mingjue’s forehead and bronzed skin only makes him glow in the yellow fluorescent light.
“Want to talk about why you’re still here, even though it’s a work night?” Nie Mingjue asks. “Not that I’m complaining, but even when Wei Ying and Huaisang stay late you always leave by 9 on weeknights.”
Jiang Cheng startles again, hand tightening on the cool, slippery bottle. It’s true; he usually makes a point to be responsible and go home and pretend to get a full 8 hours of sleep before work, but he hadn’t realized Nie Mingjue or anyone had been paying attention.
“I broke up with Clark,” Jiang Cheng admits, and this time it’s Nie Mingjue’s turn to be surprised, eyes widening. Jiang Cheng winces. “I know… I can’t believe I threw a yearlong relationship away for nothing either. I’ve been thinking maybe it was stupid. Maybe he’ll take me back if I—”
“No,” Nie Mingjue interrupts, voice ringing out into the empty parking lot in front of them. His voice is urgent, but firm. “Or, at least… if I seem surprised, that’s not why. It’s more that I thought you were happy. But if you weren’t, and you wanted to break up with him then… well, good riddance.”
“I wasn’t… unhappy,” Jiang Cheng says, and it’s not a lie, but it’s not quite right either. A part of him wishes it were that simple; it would certainly have made this a lot easier. “It's just…”
He trails off, but Nie Mingjue doesn’t jump into the silence and he’s forced to sort out the jumble of thoughts in his head.
“At first it was exactly what I wanted. Something different than what I was used to and nice and stable. But then… it’s greedy but I kept thinking maybe there should be more.” Jiang Cheng’s eyes flutter shut. He continues to clutch at his beer like a lifeline, even if there’s a lump in his throat and taking a sip would probably cause him to choke. “And it was probably the honeymoon period wearing off and I could have tried harder, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that I could be—well, more not unhappy, I guess.”
It’s shameful to admit these truths to anyone, but there’s a special sting to showing this side of himself to Nie Mingjue; they’ve only been close for a couple of years, but few people are more important to Jiang Cheng and he certainly doesn’t know anyone more hardworking or practical. Nie Mingjue would never have quit like he did.
But maybe that’s part of why he’s telling Nie Mingjue, rolling over to expose his soft underbelly when he’d kill anyone else for suggesting he even had one. He wants someone he respects—someone other than himself—to excoriate him for a change. Give him his marching orders and send him back to his ex-boyfriend full of self recrimination and specifics on everything he did wrong.
Jiang Cheng drags his eyes up to meet Nie Mingjue’s gaze.
Do it, he thinks.
But Nie Mingjue doesn’t offer him any of that. Instead, he nods and simply says, “okay.”
The word is a hard stop, throwing the hurtling train of his obsessive thoughts off its track.
“Okay?”
“Okay,” Nie Mingjue repeats, like it’s easy. “I agree. I think there is something more out there for you than just ‘not unhappy.’ And I know you. You work harder than anyone else I know and you always see things through to the end. If it wasn’t working, I know for damn sure it wasn’t from any lack of effort on your part.”
Nie Mingjue’s expression softens and, ever so gently, he takes the bottle from Jiang Cheng’s hand and places it on the concrete floor. Belatedly, Jiang Cheng realizes his hand is shaking and that he’s spilled part of his beer on the ground. He stares at the drops, incontrovertible evidence of how unprepared he was for the absolution that Nie Mingjue has so easily offered him. His newly empty hand is a sticky mess of beer and sweat, and he clenches it into a fist by his side.
“Breaking up with someone, choosing happiness… it can be brave,” Nie Mingjue says. He gives Jiang Cheng the grace of not looking directly at him, instead looking out onto the dimly lit parking lot. “I know it’s a different kind of bravery than what we usually talk about or what our parents showed us, but sometimes you need to do the hard thing and let someone go.”
Jiang Cheng has to squeeze his eyes shut at that, prevent everything inside him from welling up and over and out.
Pushing through hardships, he can do. Rebuilding what’s broken, he can do. But if he can’t or won’t go back, if he needs to draw an entirely new map? He doesn’t—
“Fuck." His voice is embarrassingly raspy, barely audible over the chirping crickets as he lets slip one last humiliating admission. "I’ve never done this before. I don’t know where I’m supposed to go from here.”
Nie Mingjue’s hand finds his arm, steady and grounding. Jiang Cheng’s body moves without his permission, towards the comfort the hand extends. Before he can pull back and apologize, Nie Mingjue tugs him even closer, until he’s wrapped tight in Nie Mingjue’s arms. It’s suffocating in the hot summer night, their bodies noticeably damp even through their clothing, but it’s also too comforting to even think about extracting himself.
“You’re going to be okay,” Nie Mingjue says. A meaningless platitude from anyone else, but Jiang Cheng trusts Nie Mingjue, knows he never shies from harsh truths. Jiang Cheng is capsized by a sudden wave of gratitude and the realization that their conversations always leave him feeling more grounded.
Collected in Nie Mingjue's arms, Jiang Cheng can almost see himself the way that Nie Mingjue apparently can: brave, or even just okay. It’s grueling work, but with a deep breath Jiang Cheng slowly lets the itching, circuitous thoughts slough off him and away.
He’s not sure he’s ready to dive into all the possibilities that his newly open future offers, but he thinks he might be ready to stop trying to turn around.
Oblivious to the series of revelations he’s triggered within Jiang Cheng’s mind, Nie Mingjue continues to murmur a comforting stream of words into the top of his head that makes Jiang Cheng’s cheeks heat. He buries his face further into the soft cotton tank stretched across Nie Mingjue’s broad chest as the words wash over him.
“…you’re brilliant and devoted and beautiful and if there’s even a speck of justice in this shitstained, godforsaken world you’re going to be okay.”
Jiang Cheng snorts a little at that, nose still running a little as he forces himself to pull back and fix Nie Mingjue with a blurry-eyed glare. “You had me up until the beautiful part.”
He only means to tease, to poke fun at his pitiful state’s effect on his already second-rate looks and lighten the mood. But to his shock the tips of Nie Mingjue’s ears redden and the arms around him stiffen. Nie Mingjue’s eyes dart away, but after only a moment he drags them back to meet Jiang Cheng’s gaze, his pupils dark with sincerity.
“It’s true,” Nie Mingjue says firmly. And just like that, Jiang Cheng forgets how to breath again, overly aware of every muscle he’s currently pressed against, the slide of Nie Mingjue’s sweating, bare arms against his own.
“Mingjue—“ Jiang Cheng stutters. “Do you—”
Jiang Cheng doesn’t even know what he’s asking. It’s unthinkable in so many ways. There’s the differential in their attractiveness, in their goodness, of course. But perhaps more crucially, Nie Mingjue has never dated anyone or even acknowledged the many, many glances from others thrown his way throughout the couple of years that Jiang Cheng has known him. He knows from Nie Huaisang that hasn’t always been the case, but it’s been long enough that it’s become a running joke between Wei Ying and Nie Huaisang that now Nie Mingjue’s only attraction is to his barbells and his ergonomic desk setup.
Jiang Cheng is beginning to realize that might not be true.
And he finds he doesn’t mind this new reality at all.
Before he can restart his question, however, Nie Mingjue steps away. He makes sure not to break contact completely though, hands lingering on Jiang Cheng’s and thumbs still rubbing soothing circles on his palms. The movement is still enough to make Jiang Cheng pause.
“Whatever you’re going to ask me, ask me in six months,” Nie Mingjue says. “If you still want to. Tonight, let’s get a couple of glasses of water and celebrate you moving forward.”
Jiang Cheng hesitates. He wants to tell Nie Mingjue that his last relationship has been dead in the water for months, but another part of him knows Nie Mingjue is right. That he’s only just starting the process of moving forward, of accepting that he needs to at all.
“Okay,” he agrees.
But before Nie Mingjue can steer them inside, he pulls out his phone. His hands might still be shaking, but he looks Nie Mingjue straight in the eyes as he sets the alarm.
—
Despite his thick boots and two scarves, Jiang Cheng shivers. The wind is bitterly cold, but Jiang Cheng stubbornly refuses to put his stiffening fingers in the pockets of his wool coat.
He’s too busy clutching his phone, focus split between dodging icy patches on the sidewalk and watching the last seconds tick down. With each step he takes, he can feel himself getting lighter and lighter.
The past six months have been… different. From the outside, Jiang Cheng’s life and routine may appear unchanged, but from Jiang Cheng’s perspective nothing could be further from the truth.
Sure, he does what he’s always done, sees Nie Mingjue about as much as he did before. But now he’s started noticing.
He notices the way his heart stutters as they press against each other to watch their favorite movies and how his stomach flips when he watches Nie Mingjue’s forearms flex as he carefully cubes blocks of extra soft tofu. He notices the sparks skittering across his skin like lightning when Nie Mingjue’s shoulder accidentally brushes his as they pass in the hallway. He notices the way they lose track of time during their conversations, the ones about their different family members’ quirks that drift off late into the night. He notices the way he stares during their normal workouts together, until he has to admit he’s an absolutely useless spotter.
He notices how happy he can be.
And now, after six months, all he can hope is that Nie Mingjue is home, and that he answers when Jiang Cheng rings the doorbell.
But when Jiang Cheng rounds the corner of the block, Nie Mingjue is already outside, sitting on an icy metal chair on his front porch. He’s wrapped in at least two thick blankets, with a muffler on his head and a couple of thermoses in his lap like he’s planning on camping out.
As soon as he catches sight of Jiang Cheng, however, he stands. The thermoses tumble to the ground, blankets falling into a messy heap by his feet. His eyes are shining and he’s grinning widely enough that two dimples have appeared on his cheeks.
Jiang Cheng takes the porch steps two at a time until they stand five scant inches apart. Between them, he can see his unsteady puffs of breath condensing, mingling with Nie Mingjue’s.
Over the last six months, the question he’s planned on asking Nie Mingjue has changed. At first he’d dreamed of Nie Mingjue’s response to the simple question of ‘do you like me?’ Somewhere along the line, that question had become too juvenile, and had morphed into ‘do you want to go on a date?’
But recently the question has changed again. Because Jiang Cheng’s desires, the future he wants to create, have never been clearer. And he’s ready to ask for it.
“Mingjue,” he says, “I like you. I want to be with you, to make each other happy, but never at the expense of being honest with each other. To do so even when that means bringing our whole, messy selves to the table. So my question for you is: do you want that too?”
Jiang Cheng inhales deeply, lets the air burn his lungs.
His question doesn’t get a chance to hang in the cold air between them for even a second before Nie Mingjue wraps him in his arms for a searing kiss that gives him his answer and more.