Work Text:
Feng Xin.
Feng Xin is getting married.
Mu Qing kind of wants to cry.
Because, yes, they broke up and three months later Mu Qing learns that Feng Xin is getting married today. And it hurts a man when the love of his life is going to say his vows and kiss some girl in front of a crowd and didn’t even invite him.
Mu Qing gets his face out of the pillow and glances at Hua Cheng, who is playing with a Hello Kitty plushie. “Are you going to go?”
“Of course,” Hua Cheng snorts, “I’m Gege’s plus one.”
Right. Xie Lian. Mu Qing should call him. He quickly decides against it.
‘Oh, I thought Feng Xin had already invited you!’ no thanks. He pushes of the wall and crosses his legs on the bed. “I’m going to it.”
Hua Cheng stops pulling at Hello Kitty’s ears. “Where?” He asks, even though he looks like he already knows.
“Feng Xin’s wedding, stupid.”
“I’m not going to be stupid one if you really think you can pull this off,” Hua Cheng says.
“It’ll be fine, Huahua.” Mu Qing grins as Hua Cheng’s face colours at the nickname. “It will be fine.”
‘It is most certainly not fine,’ Mu Qing thinks as he stands outside the huge chapel doors.
Feng Xin is his ex; Mu Qing has no right to go crash his wedding just to apologise and maybe ask him to marry him. Especially in front of so many people. Mu Qing knows almost as many people as Feng Xin does, family included. But the sheer number of strangers he sees walking in nearly makes him want to run away.
He takes in a breath to steel himself, and walks through the doors.
There are people walking in expensive suits and dresses inside a modest but beautifully decorated nave. Mu Qing fiddles with the end of his rented formal suit. It is a simple little thing and appropriate enough, but it still makes him feel insecure. It serves to remind him that he does not belong here.
Mu Qing spots Feng Xin’s friends in the crowd, among which he zeroes in on Xie Lian and Hua Cheng. Xie Lian brightens upon seeing him and extends his arms. “Mu Qing!”
“Oh he actually did it.”
“Shut up, Hua Cheng,” Mu Qing says as he leans into Xie Lian’s embrace. After the pleasantries are exchanged, the three find an inconspicuous place to sit and discuss the plan of action.
“I’m going to object to the wedding,” Mu Qing declares.
“What!” Hua Cheng exclaims, shifting the huge curtains they were hiding behind.
“Ah, San Lang, you’re going to give us away….”
Mu Qing takes in a deep breath. He is not going to kill friends. Not now, anyway.
“So what, you’ll stand up in front of the whole crowd, profess your love and ask him to marry you? In front of the whole crowd.” Hua Cheng pinches the bridge of his nose. There is a short silence and then, “What do you need.”
“Xie Lian’s car, for one—“
The curtain is yanked open and a woman’s face menacingly stares at the trio crouched on the ground. Her eyes seem to linger on Mu Qing, but immediately looks away.
“What are you idiots doing?” The woman asks.
“That’s the bride’s mother,” Hua Cheng supplies, still maintaining eye contact with the woman who continues speaking as if Mu Qing didn’t exist. He shudders.
“—and Xie Lian, I thought you had more manners than this,” the mother berates.
Snobby.
“We’ll be right out, Mrs. Jian,” Xie Lian ekes out, then sighs as the woman turns around and walks away. Mu Qing gives a disgruntled grunt.
“I’ll definitely have to save Feng Xin from that monster of a woman.”
It has to be said that Mu Qing is not a nervous person, but his hands sweat like crazy as he takes a seat in the back rows, near the exit. He hasn’t seen Feng Xin at all, he had seen Pei Ming who turned and winked at him, and Feng Xin’s mother who he had actively managed to avoid.
How would Feng Xin look?
Would he stare at the bride with the love he had showered on Mu Qing?
When they kiss, will Feng Xin forget about him?
Mu Qing nervously taps his foot as the piano notes start drifting in the air. Mu Qing remembers this song. It’s the one they had chosen to play at their wedding, when they were still together.
“Isn’t this song too plain?” Mu Qing asks as he stretches his legs over Feng Xin’s lap.
“Nothing’s too plain, if you’re with me, Qing-er,” Feng Xin replies, placing a kiss to Mu Qing’s feet.
“Ew gross,” Mu Qing says, but doesn’t push him away.
They stay like that for a while, sitting in comfortable silence.
“What about you?” Feng Xin suddenly asks.
“Huh?”
“What song would you play when you enter?”
Mu Qing is shaken out of his memories when the groom walks out.
His heart stops.
Feng Xin is dressed in a navy blue tuxedo, his brown hair slicked back into an elegant hairstyle and a white flower tucked into his pocket. Mu Qing notices small evidences of makeup on his already-gorgeous face and nearly faints.
I love you, his mind says.
Please love me back, his heart pleads.
Mu Qing cannot see that well from the back, but he is sure that Feng Xin must be excited. It’s his wedding, after all. And when Feng Xin loves, he loves with all his heart and soul. Mu Qing had seen it when he talked with Xie Lian, played cards with his mother, when he took out his dog for a walk. Perhaps what Mu Qing had experienced wasn’t love at all.
Lust, maybe. But not love.
“What am I doing here,” Mu Qing mutters to himself. He looks to his right and sees Xie Lian and Hua Cheng looking back at him, concern visible on their faces even at this distance. He gives an assuring nod. The piano changed its tunes. The doors open and the bridesmaids walk in, followed by the bride.
And she looks beautiful.
She looks exactly like the type Feng Xin would want. She has an aura of confidence as she walks down the aisle, her elegant dress gracing her movements.
Mu Qing feels like he’s lost.
Time passes by in a blur while Mu Qing can just sit there, unmoving. He doesn’t have the will to look forward, to enjoy his love’s wedding and accept that at least one of them is happy. All he can think about is his past and memories with Feng Xin. That Mu Qing should be up there with Feng Xin. He brushes a lone tear that slipped down his face.
It’s his fault after all.
“I cannot believe how insensitive you are!” Mu Qing yells.
“Me? What about your undying habit to dismiss everything you don’t believe as lies?” Feng Xin screams back.
They are standing in the middle of the living room, chests heaving as they have their usual argument. But this time, it was not going to be resolved that easily.
Mu Qing wants to scream. Why can’t Feng Xin ever see his side of the situation? Was Feng Xin’s ego more important than him? Mu Qing growls and shoves Feng Xin into the wall. “Why do you never understand?” Mu Qing asks, grabbing onto Feng Xin’s shirt.
“Why can’t you ever say what you mean?” Feng Xin retaliates.
And this is exactly what they fight about all the time, isn’t it? One doesn’t speak his mind, and one refuses to understand. How did Mu Qing ever think they were going to work out? His hands fist in Feng Xin’s shirt as he stares into Feng Xin’s beautiful golden eyes, which used to be so carefree, but are now clouded with confused anger.
“I hate you.”
“Do you, Jian Lan, take Feng Xin as your lawfully wedded husband?”
Mu Qing’s eyes focus as the preacher reaches the end of the ceremony.
“Yes.”
No. Mu Qing cannot see this. He nervously looks around, his eyes continuously falling on Feng Xin. His ears strain to hear Feng Xin’s answer.
“Do you, Feng Xin, take Jian Lan as your lawfully wedded wife?”
Feng Xin hesitates and small trickle of hope makes its way to Mu Qing’s heart. He wipes his sweaty hands using his coat. Feng Xin still doesn’t speak. Mu Qing leans forward in his seat as he tries to decipher Feng Xin’s expression. Why isn’t he answering? This is Feng Xin’s chance to be happy. But inside, Mu Qing wants Feng Xin to say no.
“Feng Xin?” The woman, who Mu Qing doesn’t even bother to remember the name of, asks full of concern.
“Ye--”
“I object!” Mu Qing yells as he stands up. The only sound he can hear is the blood thrumming in his ears. Wrong time to stand, he knows, but Mu Qing could not even think about hearing Feng Xin say yes to anybody else but him. He can literally feel the horrifying looks directed at him, but Mu Qing is only looking at Feng Xin.
He can swear he sees tears.
“U-um,” Mu Qing begins, hands curling into his coat. “I--” He continues to focus on Feng Xin, and Feng Xin is staring at him too. Time seems to stop as silence rings in the hall. Mu Qing cannot forms words as his breathing becomes erratic. The world feels suffocating, and Mu Qing cannot take it anymore. He feels terrified.
He shouldn’t be here.
Without uttering a single word, Mu Qing awkwardly stumbles out of the pews and makes a dash for the exit. Mu Qing hears Hua Cheng and Xie Lian call out to him, but he couldn’t stop. The wedding, the guests, the family, the bride, the vows, it is all too much for him to handle. Mu Qing feels overwhelmed. He lets his feet carry him away from the chapel, but Mu Qing knows where he is running to. Right where everything had begun.
Mu Qing sits alone in the middle of the small sandpit. Children laugh and play all around him, dancing under pink trees. He doesn’t have any friends, except that one weird kid across the street. Xie Lian, he remembers; but Xie Lian was friends with everyone.
“Mu Qing!”
Mu Qing turns around to find Xie Lian himself, bending over him with an ever present smile etched on his face. But there is another kid standing next to him, Brown hair in a bun with his hands folded and face looking away.
“Who’s that?” Mu Qing asks.
“I’m right here, you could just ask me,” the boy replies first, not letting Xie Lian speak.
“Fine then.” Mu Qing musters up all the hatred his 6 year old body could manage. “Who are you and why are you here,” Mu Qing says flatly.
The boy finally turns to face him, and Mu Qing sees gold.
“I’m Feng Xin, stupid hair.”
The first cherry blossoms fell.
Feng Xin stands there, still dumbfounded, still staring at the exit from where Mu Qing ran out.
Mu Qing.
At his wedding with another girl.
The universe must truly hate him.
A million questions run through his head. Why was he here? How did he know? How much does Mu Qing know? From the corner of his eye, Feng Xin sees Hua Cheng glaring holes in his side. He sees Xie Lian with a worried look on his face. But most of all, he still sees Mu Qing, eyes filled with unshed tears.
Mu Qing had objected. Mu Qing didn’t want him to say yes. The steady mantra of ‘he still cares, he still cares’ continuously replays in his mind.
“Feng Xin?” Jian Lan repeats. She cradles Feng Xin’s face and Feng Xin catches a glimpse of her wedding ring.
The wedding ring he had chosen for Mu Qing.
And Jian Lan, she was just a replacement of Mu Qing, wasn’t she? The wedding ring, the venue, the music, everything. They were exactly how Feng Xin had imagined his and Mu Qing’s wedding would go. A nice spring wedding, officiated on the first fall of cherry blossoms. And probably, Jian Lan knew it too.
“Did you know?” Feng Xin asks her.
“I told Hua Cheng to tell him,” Jian Lan answers. Feng Xin looks at her in surprise.
“But—”
“My parents didn’t want him here.” Jian Lan turns him to face her. She has a determined look on her face. “I know you still care about Mu Qing,” she announces. Feng Xin can only stare at her. “I know I can never replace him, never take his place. And apparently he thinks that too.”
“Jian Lan, what are you saying?”
Jian Lan takes Feng Xin’s hand and looks at him with a sad smile. “Go after Mu Qing, dumb egg,” she says, using her favourite nickname. She puts the ring in his palm.
“Tell him.”
Feng Xin bolts.
The crowd is already in chaos. The preacher is somewhere crying in the corner, his and Jian Lan’s parents are trying to calm some of the angry guests down and some just sit there with not a single care in the world. But as they see the groom running down the aisle, tossing his coat aside, it results in even more confusion. But Feng Xin can’t bring himself to care because all he can think about is Mu Qing.
Outside, there is no sign of Mu Qing. The bastard can be really slippery when he wants to. But he can’t hide from him. Because Feng Xin knows much Mu Qing like he knows himself.
The first thing Feng Xin sees when he arrives home is Mu Qing laying his head on the table and numerous books surrounding his head. Feng Xin sighs and slams the Starbucks on the table.
“What the fuck!” Mu Qing startles, immediately grabbing his pen in a stabbing grip.
“Easy there stabby, I brought you coffee.”
“Is it—”
“Dark Italian roast with no milk and two shots of espresso, I know your Starbucks order dumbass.”
“Bitchface,” Mu Qing says on instinct, breathing in the aroma of coffee. Feng starts to pick up all the books on the table. Mu Qing makes a questioning noise.
“I know you’ve been studying for the interview all night and haven’t slept. I’m going to put you to bed.”
“Are you going to come with me to bed?” Mu Qing asks, a little hopeful. Feng Xin crushes it mercilessly.
“No, you need rest.”
“Hah, as if—” Feng Xin cuts Mu Qing off with a kiss. Mu Qing melts into it, hands coming to wrap around Feng Xin’s neck in practiced motion. Feng Xin feels butterflies in his stomach as he caresses his face. But Mu Qing needs to sleep. He reluctantly pulls away.
“Now are you going to sleep?” Feng Xin asks, uncharacteristically soft.
“Okay mom, let me at least finish my coffee first.”
Feng Xin runs past a small cat café. Another memory strikes him.
“Could you stop dragging me to this stupid café?” Feng Xing grumbles.
“Could you stop complaining for once?” Mu Qing shoots back, squeezing hard on Feng Xin’s hand.
“Ow, ow, okay- fuck, just keep Miss TomTom away from me then,” Feng Xin says, soothing his abused hand.
“She likes you,” Mu Qing says in an oddly fond voice. He looks at Feng Xin with uncharacteristic gentleness in his eyes, and Feng Xin falls in love all over again.
“Just like me.”
As he runs past grocery stores, restaurants, gardens and their old school, memories of him and Mu Qing flood his brain. Every happy, sad, angry moment they shared together.
He wants Mu Qing. He wants him back. He wants to apologise, to tell the truth, to say that he never meant those things he said at the apartment, to kneel, to tell Mu Qing that he loves him and that he will never let him go. That Mu Qing would never have those tears in his eyes again.
Never again.
Feng Xin, with his shirt all stained with sweat, finally reaches the rusty gate of an old abandoned park. The compound wall is dirty with cracked paint and torn posters. Moss and vines grow haphazardly. But gate is open and Feng Xin knows he’s come to the right place.
Walking through the gate, he sees broken seesaws and swings with rusted slides and monkey bars. But they do nothing to dampen the beauty of the pink cherry blossoms hanging on the trees, threatening to fall. And in the middle of this beautiful scenery sits Mu Qing.
He is sitting cross-legged where the old sandpit used to be and Feng Xin feels like he is reliving his entire past. Except, there is no Xie Lian to make them talk to each other. Feng Xin needs to take that initiative himself.
He walks up to Mu Qing, towering over him, and in his mind’s eye Feng Xin sees a little Mu Qing sitting here dejected with no one to play with.
“Hey,” Feng Xin finally speaks. His breath is taken away when Mu Qing looks up, cheeks red from exertion and eyes glossy. He looks beautiful.
Feng Xin loves him.
“Feng…Xin?” Mu Qing says, voice wavering. “What are you doing here?”
Feng Xin makes a half-hearted attempt at a joke. “I couldn’t just let you leave without eating anything, right?” With how Mu Qing’s face turns irritated, Feng Xin knows it failed.
“Are you serious? Why are you here? Do you still have to mock me, because you moved on before I did? Or is it because you used our wedding plan for your precious new girl? What is it Feng Xin?”
“Uhm,” Feng Xin says eloquently.
“Do you want me to bow down before you, huh? Make me appreciate the great Ju Yang—”
“Fuck, no!” Feng Xin interrupts. He runs his hand through his hair, trying to calm himself down. Then roughly pulls Mu Qing to his feet.
The broken swing creaks once.
“I am not mocking you,” Feng Xin awkwardly starts, “nor am I trying to disrespect you with the wedding planning. And it is definitely not about Ju Yang.”
“Then what is it?” Mu Qing’s voice is tired, resigned. Feng Xin cups his face, staring deep into eyes as dark as a moonless night.
“Jian Lan and me—that was actually planned from the beginning,” Feng Xin explains, then sighs as Mu Qing raised a questioning eyebrow. “I was planning to tell you but, frankly, I was fucking scared you’ll scream at me or throw me out of the house.”
“I would never—”
“I know, but I was still scared that it might happen.” Feng Xin drops one of his hands to intertwine it with one of Mu Qing’s. “Turns out, you did kick me out, but it ended up being due to me not telling you.”
Mu Qing drops his head against Feng Xin’s chest. “You really stink,” he says first and then, “you should’ve told me.”
“I know,” Feng Xin agrees. He wraps his arms around Mu Qing’s waist and places a gentle kiss on his head. He shoots up like surprised cat, cheeks stained red. Feng Xin laughs. He swears he sees a small hint of a smile on Mu Qing’s face too.
“What—what about Jian Lan?” Mu Qing suddenly asks.
A small wind blows, making the swing creak once again.
One of Feng Xin’s hands reach into his pocket, curling around the ring. “She told me to find you.”
“She did?” Mu Qing asks in disbelief.
Feng Xin gives an amused huff. “She did.” His grip tightens on Mu Qing’s waist. “Mu Qing want to tell you something.”
“What—” But Mu Qing is cut off when Feng Xin kneels on the ground and pulls out a ring.
It is their final day of their final year of college. Mu Qing sits on the swing of their old playground, which was scheduled to close off to public next week. Beside him, Feng Xin is gripping the swing, face contorted into something Mu Qing can only describe as constipated.
“A-Xin, are your bowels working alright?”
Feng Xin snaps back to reality. “Huh- the fuck- of course they are!”
“Then why do you look like that?”
“I was just thinking, can’t a man fucking think for once?”
“Could’ve fooled me.”
Feng Xin takes a deep breath. He then abruptly stands up and pulls Mu Qing away from the swings into the middle of the sandpit.
“Feng Xin seriously, what’s wrong—”
Feng Xin turns to Mu Qing and pulls out a marker from his pocket. He takes the other’s hand and draws a really messy circle around Mu Qing’s ring finger.
“When we are older,” Feng Xin says, determined look on his face, “I’ll propose to you right here.”
Feng Xin is kneeling on his expensive pants in the middle of a fucking dump holding out ring, for Mu Qing.
He is making good on a promise made five years ago for Mu Qing.
Mu Qing doesn’t know what to say.
These past twenty four hours are already too much for him. He first finds out that his ex is getting married, crashes the wedding to see him attending the wedding of dreams which was not actually for him, then finds out that the wedding was arranged from the beginning, followed by a surprisingly kind to-be-wife sending her own husband to chase down another man and propose to him.
“You really want to?” is all Mu Qing can say, his hands trembling as he dusts his dirtied coat. “Even after all I said—”
“You were right to say that, Mu Qing,” Feng Xin says, surprisingly sincere. “I was wrong, I was withholding so much information that you deserved to know, and I never tried to understand you point of view.” Feng Xin gently caresses Mu Qing’s hand, his thumb tracing the spot where the marker had inked their bond all those years ago. Mu Qing feels shivers run down his spine as he anticipates Feng Xin’s next words.
“Mu Qing, will you let me atone for my mistakes?” Feng Xin asks.
“Only if you let me atone to mine,” Mu Qing replies. Feng Xin slides the ring on Mu Qing’s finger, size a bit tight, but fitting perfectly anyway.
“Will you marry me?” Feng Xin finally asks, and Mu Qing cannot help the smile on his face.
The wind blows a little stronger, rustling the trees.
“Yes.”
Mu Qing pulls Feng Xin up and under the first fall of the cherry blossoms, Mu Qing finally kisses Feng Xin.
It’s just a soft press of lips, innocent and tender like the first kiss of two childhood lovers. Feng Xin is still holding Mu Qing’s hand while Mu Qing gently cups his face. The butterflies in Mu Qing’s stomach go completely out of control when Feng Xin starts moving him backwards towards the swing set.
Feng Xin’s hands wrap protectively around his waist as their kiss becomes deeper and more passionate, and Mu Qing feels himself getting lost into Feng Xin’s touch, his mouth, his still sweaty Tommy Hilfiger shirt, Feng Xin, Feng Xin, Feng Xin.
Mu Qing feels his back press against the bars of the swings set. He doesn’t pay any mind to it. When they part for air, Mu Qing is delighted to see Feng Xin’s tanned skin blush a beautiful red and his eyes filled with desire that mirror his own. Mu Qing tugs Feng Xin closer once again. He kisses Feng Xin’s eyes, his cheeks and his strong jaw while both of their hands explore each other’s bodies. Feng Xin makes a particularly bold choice and starts to kiss Mu Qing’s neck, resulting in Mu Qing throwing his head back and thudding against the bars.
That was all that the poor old piece of metal could take.
The swing set gives a final creak and collapses with a loud noise, taking both Mu Qing and Feng Xin down with it. Feng Xin lands on top of Mu Qing, his hand covering the back of the latter’s head protecting him from getting hit. They gaze into each other’s eyes for a few surprised seconds, and promptly start laughing.
“How did your light ass body collapse an entire fucking swing set?” Feng Xin asks around bursts of laughter.
“Me? It was you who pushed me into it first, remember?”
“Hey! What’s going on out there?” a foreign voice yells in the distance.
Feng Xin lets out a curse and helps Mu Qing up from the fallen debris. Mu Qing is then pulled through a rear gate that he didn’t even remember existing. They barely make it out of the park in time when a nearby guard barges into the park.
“Oi, you two stop right there!” she calls out to them, but they are already too far away.
They keep running till they reach a small food joint, finally stopping for a breath.
“I have finally fulfilled everything in my life,” Mu Qing pants, taking a seat at of the tables.
“Running from security?” Feng Xin asks quizzically.
“Running away from security after heavily making out in their property,” Mu Qing corrects. Feng Xin scoffs and sits next to Mu Qing, intertwining their hands once more. Mu Qing rests his head on Feng Xin’s shoulder.
A few minutes pass in comfortable silence as both of them catch their breaths.
“I didn’t get to put a ring on it,” Mu Qing mourns.
“What?”
Mu Qing sighs. “I told Hua Cheng that I would be the one to ask you to marry me, when I objected to the wedding earlier,” He clarifies. Looking back, he feels a little embarrassed about that declaration. He hopes Feng Xin won’t catch on to it.
“Oh.”
“It’s all ruined now anyways.”
Feng Xin wraps his arms around Mu Qing, who snuggles into the embrace.
“Well, Hua Cheng can choke on a dick when he sees me with the beautiful hickeys you’ll adorn my neck with tonight.”
“Feng Xin!”