Work Text:
Feng Xin doesn’t like to wake up in the mornings, or even in general. He treasures his moments of rest way too much, yet sometimes he couldn’t wait for the moment his body drifted out of slumber.
Because his favorite sight was waiting for him; sometimes with a gentle smile and sometimes with a peaceful expression—when Feng Xin lucked out and woke up first. His mouth had a mind of its own and always curled up, his hand needed to touch his partner’s soft, long hair and his legs always found a way to tangle even more between Xie Lian’s. It was pure bliss, and Feng Xin was convinced that was what it felt like waking up in heaven, on the softest cloud God could offer.
Now, his hand curls onto nothing and his legs kick out on the empty bed that is way too big for himself. His sheets smell like a fabric softener he doesn’t like and his curtains are too dark for his liking. Feng Xin doesn’t change them, though, for it will be harder to deny what he’s missing.
He gets ready for work, and there’s no kiss at the door when he leaves.
…
Xie Lian is nothing like Feng Xin ever expected.
He smiles so wide, all the time, at anything. He gets grumpy when the people he cares about don’t take care of themselves. He feels too much and so little at the same time. There’s always an edge of something stronger lingering in his words, almost as if he fears the things that can come out of his mouth.
It feels as if Xie Lian is a tornado in Feng Xin’s storm.
They sit on the floor in Feng Xin’s apartment, feeling the warm carpet under their legs, sharing a bowl of slightly burnt popcorn. There’s a movie playing on the TV, muted.
“It feels weird to be back,” Xie Lian says, playing with the hem of his shirt. “A lot of things changed.”
Feng Xin smiles, boping the tip of Xie Lian’s nose, “You changed too.”
“I don’t think I did,” He replies, scrunching up his face and looking down, hiding his expression from Feng Xin’s gaze.
“You definitely did. You didn’t melt any of my bowls tonight.”
Xie Lian laughs. It pierces ten thousand holes into Feng Xin’s chest. He’s laughing, he’s well, he’s content. Feng Xin folds his legs, feeling relaxed in Xie Lian’s atmosphere, as he always does.
“I don’t wanna leave again,” Xie Lian confesses, almost inaudibly, just for Feng Xin only.
Feng Xin’s hand finds its way to Xie Lian’s, holding tightly and unwilling to let go. Not again, hopefully not ever. “You will always have a place with me.”
He might not be the smartest man, nor the nicest, but he knows that he feels right when Xie Lian looks up and his eyes travel down to Feng Xin’s lips, giving him the opening of joining their mouths together, sharing in a kiss that feels like the deepest breath of air after staying underwater for too long. Xie Lian is warm, soft and pliant under Feng Xin’s touch. Xie Lian welcomes him, just like he’s always done. Feng Xin’s hand cups Xie Lian’s cheek, keeping him close and feeling the warmth of his flush on the skin. This is perfect, he thinks, nothing could be better.
“I’m sorry,” Feng Xin says, his nose still brushing Xie Lian’s. “I haven’t even taken you on a proper date?”
Xie Lian smiles widely, “Oh, so this wasn’t a date?”
“I can do better.”
“I’m really looking forward to it.” Xie Lian pecks Feng Xin before hugging him by the waist with a strong grip. “I’m very happy.”
That’s all Feng Xin wants. He returns the hug, unable to stop the smile blooming on his face as well, “I am too.”
The chance to take Xie Lian on a date comes later that week. However, Feng Xin feels rather restless—he can admit to himself that he’s nervous—because despite what others might think, he hasn’t been on too many dates. He’s tried it before, yes, but he somehow gets dumped every time for wanting more. And he would like very much to not experience that with Xie Lian, ever. He knows Xie Lian likes simple things, despite having once lived as a spoiled, rich kid; strolls across the park, midnight lunches on the sidewalk, visiting antique stores and attending different workshops.
He never asks for much—he rarely asks for anything—so Feng Xin wants to make it good. So good Xie Lian feels head over heels for him.
Xie Lian smiles at him from the curb in front of his building when Feng Xin picks him up, wearing one of Feng Xin’s bomber jackets and holding his phone in one hand. Feng Xin genuinely thinks nothing could look as pretty as him. Xie Lian walks up to his car and gets in the passenger seat, not giving Feng Xin a chance to open the door for him.
“Hi, are you okay?” Xie Lian asks out of habit, always on the lookout for any signs of discomfort in him.
“Wonderful, what about you?” Feng Xin asks, offering his hand for Xie Lian to grab it if he wants to. Xie Lian does and squeezes his fingers.
“Very excited.” He replies with a smile that reaches his eyes.
They talk during the ride, about Xie Lian’s shift and Feng Xin’s lecture, how Xie Lian’s coworkers keep trying to get him to get his ear pierced and how Feng Xin’s students seem rather focused during his seminars this time around. It’s normal, it’s familiar. Xie Lian asks a few times about their date and where they’re going, but Feng Xin refuses to answer and tells him repeatedly it’s a surprise. Xie Lian pouts about it but doesn’t really mind.
“Wait here, I have something for you.” Feng Xin tells him, parking his car and running to his truck.
Xie Lian opens his door and sits with his legs out of the car, stretching his neck to try to see what Feng Xin is doing. “Oh, what is it?”
“Here,” Feng Xin closes the truck after a moment and gets back to Xie Lian, holding out a shiny pair of white roller skates. “For you.”
“Feng Xin, you didn’t have to,” Xie Lian says, but Feng Xin can see the excitement in his eyes when he takes the skates in his hands. “Am I going to need these?”
“Yes,” Feng Xin holds up his own pair. “Surprise.”
Xie Lian laughs and grins at him, “Thank you, really.”
Feng Xin can’t help it, really, but he has to lean down and kiss the air out of his date, earning a giggle and a response just as enthusiastic.
When they’re skating, Xie Lian surprisingly doesn’t fall, for Feng Xin is always there to hold him up.
…
Feng Xin wonders what the fuck is he doing.
Not that it’s the first time he’s ever asked himself that, but it’s definitely the one time he actually means it. He’s holding a glass of whiskey in one hand and tapping the table anxiously with the other. He knows a few of the people in the place, but he’s not in the mood for small talk. Feng Xin looks around, taking in the sight of the decorations and the amount of flowers across the venue. He definitely ignores the picture at the entrance. Nope.
“Hey, man,” A heavy hand falls onto Feng Xin’s shoulder. “You okay there?”
Feng Xin looks at Pei Ming and nods, “Just peachy.”
“It’s a surprise to see you here,” his friend sits next to him, playing with a gold ribbon that he probably took from the centerpieces. “I thought you wouldn’t come. We all did, actually.”
“Why wouldn’t I?” Feng Xin snaps, feeling his jaw tighten. “It’s all fine. We’re friends.”
“When you look red and constipated, it doesn’t sound fine.” Pei Ming remarks with a smirk.
“Fuck off, I’m just not used to big crowds like this.” Feng Xin gulps down the rest of his drink, wincing at the burn in his throat.
“Aren’t you a professor?”
“Get out.”
When Feng Xin is alone again, he looks at his empty plate for a moment, thinking that it might be better if he leaves. Isn’t it weird to attend your ex’s engagement celebration? He doesn’t know. He thought he wouldn’t ever need to know. He makes up his mind and moves to get up when a figure takes up the space Pei Ming left behind, holding the sleeve of his suit jacket.
“Are you leaving already?”
Feng Xin visibly swallows. “Uh, no. Bathroom.”
“Ah,” Xie Lian’s grip on him loosens, and he seems embarrassed about touching him in the first place. “Sorry, I just thought I haven’t had the chance to talk to you tonight.”
“I wasn’t going to leave without saying congrats,” The words are out of Feng Xin’s mouth before he can stop them, cursing internally.
Xie Lian smiles softly, “I appreciate you coming. I was kind of nervous about greeting this many people but having a familiar face made it easier.”
Wow, Feng Xin thinks. This is really shitty.
“I can hang out for a bit,” Again, Feng Xin can’t control his big mouth. Maybe Pei Ming can shove a shoe in his throat to avoid a situation like this in the future. “I have a lecture tomorrow so I can’t stay that long.”
“It’s okay,” Xie Lian assures him, waving his hand. He purses his lips for a bit before saying something that shouldn’t hurt as much as it does. “It’s nice to see you.”
Feng Xin thinks of Xie Lian’s fiancé. The man that came and fixed the mess Feng Xin left, the man that has been feeding Xie Lian to the point he looks plump and healthy, the man who forbids Xie Lian from feeling stressed, hopeless and useless. The one who holds Xie Lian’s waist when they’re talking to their guests, who makes sure Xie Lian is comfortable every once in a while, who looks at Xie Lian like the treasure he’s been looking for his entire life and finally acquired. The man who will get to see Xie Lian every morning for the rest of his life.
“It’s nice to see you too.”
…
If there’s something about Feng Xin it’s that he’s not one to give up without a fight. He cares, sometimes way too much, and he’s willing to do anything to ensure the people around him are safe, like a guardian that protects without remuneration. He’s always carried more onto his shoulders than he can manage. But what is left if he’s gone? He doesn't want to know.
Xie Lian tucks Feng Xin’s hair behind his ear, looking at his face with a concerned expression written all over his features. There’s a silent weight in the air, engulfing them into a sense of pressure and uneasiness. Feng Xin shakes twice, but refuses to meet Xie Lian’s gaze, swallowing the misery that threatens to eat up his heart in one bite. Xie Lian aches, reaches out.
Open up to me, don’t let me out.
He doesn’t say it, for he doesn’t want to probe in the parts that Feng Xin doesn’t want to share with him. Nonetheless, the mere idea that Feng Xin keeps something from him is foreign, and feels completely odd. And Xie Lian isn’t sure how he should handle the shivers that come from thoughts that have no place coming into his mind. He tries again, taking Feng Xin’s pinkie into his hand—the difference between their fingers never fails to amuse him, given that Feng Xin’s hands are considerably larger than his own. Xie Lian tugs, twice.
Between them, things always get done twice.
Feng Xin’s forehead finds Xie Lian’s chest, and his free hand holds onto his leg with force, almost as if letting go could make him float away. The grip is bruising, a punishment.
“Will you stay?” He whispers in a broken voice, with a broken soul.
“Always.” Xie Lian replies immediately, holding Feng Xin’s nape and tugging on his finger again. I’m here, he says. Let me make it better. “I saw a little dog the other day. He was running around but then he saw a girl that fell down and went to comfort her. I thought that it was really sweet.”
Feng Xin nods, urging him to continue, still not ready to let Xie Lian see the mess on his cheeks.
“It reminded me of when we were kids. Do you remember the swings in the backyard of my old house? We could spend the entire day on them without getting tired,” Xie Lian continues with a soft laugh. “I remember one day I fell down on you and hurt my knee. I was crying so hard and you freaked out because I couldn’t shut up, so you started singing.”
“Did I really?” Feng Xin sniffs.
Xie Lian closes his eyes, focusing on the way Feng Xin’s breathing is coming back to normal. “Yeah. It was awful, but it made me feel better. Later, I noted that your arm was scratched real bad, yet you didn’t even make a face. I thought you were a superhero.”
Feng Xin wants to disagree, but Xie Lian holds him by the chin and forces him to look up. The sight is almost blinding, for he’s smiling and looking at Feng Xin as if he’s never loved anything else in his life. It’s overwhelming to be cared for like this, Feng Xin thinks.
Xie Lian opens his mouth to say something else but stops himself, breathing out another laugh. He kisses Feng Xin, twice on the nose and once on the lips.
However, Feng Xin never gets to hear what Xie Lian wanted to say.
…
The moment Feng Xin’s consciousness comes back to his body, he groans loudly, wishing he was buried ten thousand feet into the dirt. He’s face down on the cold floor and, while he knows it’s clean, his bones ache from the position and the hard place where they rested during the night. He tries to stretch without any sudden movements to not worsen his headache, or rather, the hammer piercing holes into his skull.
“Get up, idiot.”
“Does it hurt to say ‘good morning’ for once in your life?” Feng Xin asks, not feeling up to fight with Mu Qing right after waking up.
“Yeah, I lose ten years of my lifespan every time I’m somewhat nice to you,” Mu Qing replies, kicking Feng Xin’s leg softly.
He sits up against his will and squints to look at his companion, looking at the steaming mug in his hand. “Is that coffee?”
“If you want coffee, the press is ready to go.”
Feng Xin doesn’t really know how he manages to get up and make a cup of coffee, but he finds himself sitting on the couch with Mu Qing on the other end, sharing a silence that isn’t uncomfortable but he’d rather avoid. He knows Mu Qing wants to ask. And there’s nothing wrong with it, considering he probably deserves an explanation from getting a call at 4AM to pick Feng Xin up at the bar they used to frequent when they were younger.
“He moved out yesterday,” Feng Xin offers before blowing on his coffee.
“So you thought I should handle you drunk out of your ass because of your heartbreak.” His friend retorts with a roll of his eyes.
Feng Xin shrugs, noticing this is the longest they have ever been in the same place without jumping at each other. “I guess.”
They don’t say more. Feng Xin looks around Mu Qing’s apartment, in awe at how organized and polished it looks. There aren’t many decoration pieces in the living room, except for a picture of the three of them on their graduation day. Feng Xin is hugging Mu Qing and Xie Lian by their shoulders, and they’re all smiling—Mu Qing will say he isn’t if anyone asks. The detail Feng Xin focuses on is the ribbon holding the bun on top of Xie Lian’s head. A burnt yellow ribbon that he took from Feng Xin’s room the first time he was in there as teenagers. It makes Feng Xin’s eyes sting.
“Please, don’t cry in my apartment again.” Mu Qing says with a wince, clearly uncomfortable at the prospect of handling a crying Feng Xin.
“Sorry,” Feng Xin apologizes, taking a sip of his coffee. “I won’t cry anymore.”
He lies. He lies when Mu Qing asks him at the door if he’s going to be alright—despite saying he doesn’t want to hear from Feng Xin again in at least six months—. He lies when Pei Ming messages him to ask if he’s hanging in. He lies to himself when he drives home and he thinks he’s going to be fine going up to his apartment. He lies when his mind tells him that it’s too empty, for there’s no colorful cushions or a blanket thrown across the couch. He lies when his hands ache to reach out when he enters his bedroom. Half of his closet is empty. Half of his bathroom cabinet has been cleaned up.
“Fuck,” he whispers. “Fuck.”
Half of his heart is out of the window, but he lies. He lies about the void spreading in his existence. He lies when he thinks that he’s going to get everything he’s missing again and that this is only temporary.
The thing is that Feng Xin has never been a good liar.
…
03:34: i miss you.
03:40: do you miss me?
05:51: i miss you too.
…
Feng Xin takes his tie off and fixes the collar of his shirt, not bothering to put his jacket back on. It’s warm, and he has three hours before his next lecture. He can do this, he can fix himself up afterwards and go on with his life just like he’s done for a while. He texts Mu Qing about dinner later and then gets out of his car, locking it and walking to the coffee shop he’s been told to go to. The shop isn’t crowded and the smell of coffee is strong, making Feng Xin feel more relaxed—and god, does he need to.
When he notices the presence of the person he’s supposed to meet, sitting with two cups in front of him and a smile on his face, Feng Xin feels like floating. Xie Lian’s hair is short, framing his face and making him appear younger. His clothes are loose and soft-looking, as always in light tones. He looks radiant, as he should always do.
“Hey,” he greets, getting into what he thinks it’s his seat. The cup in front of him is coffee, and it looks strong, just the way he likes it.
“Hi, thank you for meeting me,” Xie Lian says, pressing his hands together in happiness. “I hope I got your usual right.”
Feng Xin nods, “I’m sure you did.”
They look at each other in comfortable silence for a moment before Xie Lian breaks into a chuckle, “Sorry, it’s been a while since we’ve met so I couldn’t help but stare. I didn't know you pierced your ear.”
“You did too.” Feng Xin points out with a smile. Xie Lian nervously tugs on his earring and adverts Feng Xin’s eyes.
“It wasn’t planned at all.” He says with embarrassment and a soft flush adorning his cheeks.
“Looks good.” Feng Xin offers, amused. “But tell me, how are you doing?”
Xie Lian looks at his drink—tea, Feng Xin notices—and plays with the edge of his mug.
“It’s been well. I was able to get custody of Guzi just last month.”
“Really? That’s wonderful! Is he doing well in therapy? I heard the first two were kind of harsh on him.”
“Oh, yeah. We found a great therapist for him a few months ago and he’s starting to talk more. San Lang says we should start looking for schools but I think it might be best if we consider homeschool for now.” Xie Lain talks about his son with adoration, Feng Xin notices. He feels happy for the kid to have found such a loving soul to take care of him, and Feng Xin is sure nothing will ever cause any harm to Guzi anymore.
“I see. I agree it might be better to avoid overwhelming him. I hope everything works out well.” Feng Xin nods, feeling oddly proud that his fingers didn’t twitch at all at the mention of Xie Lian’s husband.
“And you? How is it going with Mu Qing?” Xie Lian leans in, clearly ready to butt his nose in.
Feng Xin raises an eyebrow, taking his cup to his lips, “Why so interested?”
“It’s been so long since I went to a wedding.” He says, making a dramatic expression and successfully making Feng Xin choke with the coffee he’d just sipped.
“What the fuck?”
Xie Lian laughs at him, hiding behind his hand., “Seriously, Feng Xin, are you ever planning on settling down?”
“Please don’t tell me you’ve ever said anything like this to Mu Qing,” Feng Xin says between coughs.
“What would my fate be if I did?” Xie Lian’s tone is nonchalant.
Feng Xin tries to swallow his pride and embarrassment, “I don’t… want him to freak out. Or spook him or whatever.”
Xie Lian smiles again, like he always does. Feng Xin realizes how badly he misses this, and how comfortable he feels. His heart feels serene, full.
“You guys should come over for dinner sometime, I think it would be nice.”
“Have you learned how to cook yet?” Feng Xin asks, suspicious.
“Ah,” Xie Lian blushes again. “San Lang cooks for others, not me.”
Feng Xin hums, “Sounds good.”
Xie Lian looks at him, surprised, but happy.
And well, Feng Xin thinks he can survive a dinner with Xie Lian’s husband if it means he will get to see his friend this content again.
…
The song isn’t happy. The song reminds Feng Xin of something he shouldn’t be thinking about, but he keeps dancing. He keeps moving to the melody and feeling the countless of other bodies around him moving to the music as well. The party is lively, cute and definitely organized on a limitless budget. He already feels the buzz of the few drinks he’s had throughout the night, and wishes to stay this way a little longer.
“We should dance another song,” The man in his arms says, resting his head on Feng Xin’s chest.
“Okay.” Feng Xin agrees, forgetting for a moment that said man has said ‘I do’ at the altar a few hours ago to someone that isn’t him.
He feels Xie Lian sigh and hug him a little tighter, “Don’t leave me out again.”
Feng Xin is almost sure what he heard is a product of his drunken imagination, but Xie Lian did say it: loud and clear above the music. And now, he doesn’t know what to answer.
“I’m sorry,” He manages, closing his eyes and loosening his grip on Xie Lian.
Xie Lian nods, “I know.”
There’s no other song for them to dance. Xie Lian finds his way back to his husband, looking at him with an amount of fondness Feng Xin didn’t know Xie Lian could feel. And he misses him. He misses when he was the object of Xie Lian’s affection. He misses when Xie Lian used to say he could live with Feng Xin the rest of his life without getting married, for he didn’t think it was important as long as Feng Xin loved him. He misses when Xie Lian cut his hair, kissing his nape after brushing the stray hairs that fell on his skin.
Most importantly, he misses when he had the chance to tell Xie Lian that he loves him. Yet he never did.
Now, Xie Lian has a ring on his finger. A ring that Feng Xin didn’t put on him.