Work Text:
Shen Yuan didn’t blame Binghe.
How could he? Binghe was just a child, all alone in a world that constantly kicked him while he was down.
He honestly reminded Shen Yuan of some sort of real-life story protagonist with his tragic backstory yet strong refusal to let anything stop him from moving forward.
At first, Shen Yuan started out just being the boy’s new neighbor, a friendly face in the building that waved hello when walking by.
That changed when Shen Yuan heard the young boy sobbing through paper-thin walls.
He had debated on what to do for a few minutes before finally walking to his new neighbor’s door and knocking.
He heard the boy knock something over in his hurry to answer the door.
Red-rimmed eyes peered up at him from the slightly opened doorway.
“Do you want some hot chocolate?” Shen Yuan remembered blurting out, unsure of what to say to a crying preteen.
Binghe blinked in surprise, watching Shen Yuan with suspicion before finally nodding his head.
Shen Yuan invited the boy over and after a moment's hesitation, Binghe followed.
The rest was history.
That single cup of hot chocolate was enough to buy Binghe’s everlasting loyalty for life.
The boy came over so often that Shen Yuan eventually just gave him a spare key.
And after seeing the boy’s abysmal grades he ended up teaching the boy too.
In return, Binghe cooked for both of them and cleared up around the house.
Over time he found out more about the young boy he invited into his home.
Emancipated at fourteen, an orphan living on the life insurance payout from his adopted mother’s untimely death.
They spent three years together, three years that left Shen Yuan feeling more alive and happy than the other twenty he had already lived.
It was just unfortunate that he wasn't able to keep that happiness.
At only twenty-three years old Shen Yuan died, leaving seventeen-year-old Luo Binghe all alone.
Shen Yuan still doesn't know what caused Binghe to steal his body from the morgue, and he still doesn't know how he got away with it, all he knows is that his poor little sheep must have been half mad from grief.
Because when Shen Yuan died, he didn’t pass on to some afterlife.
Nor did he reincarnate.
Instead, Shen Yuan lingered on, watching as his little sheep fell further and further into madness.
He tried his best to tell Binghe to let go, to move on, but his attempts only spurred the boy on.
“I know you're with me Yuan-ge, I can feel you,” Binghe would say with feverish obsession, his eyes wet as Shen Yuan did his best to comfort the boy.
His hands would pass through him, unable to touch the living world, yet Binghe would shiver, as though he could really feel his beloved Yuan-ge.
From there Binghe’s descent was more focused, more directed.
Shen Yuan’s corpse was perfectly preserved.
Shen Yuan still didn’t know how Binghe had managed it.
All he knew was that this was all getting a little out of hand.
Binghe used what little inheritance Shen Yuan had left him to move out of their apartment building to the countryside, isolating himself even further.
It made Shen Yuan’s heart hurt.
Then things went from bad to worse.
Binghe had gotten it into his head that he could bring Shen Yuan back to life using human sacrifice.
His little sheep threw away his entire life. All the things that should have made him rise to the top: his good grades, his handsome face, his intense charisma, all of it was thrown away to become a serial killer living in the middle of nowhere.
It was more than Shen Yuan could bear.
Binghe would kill some random stranger, drain them of all their blood, and then bathe Shen Yuan’s corpse in it.
It made Shen Yuan want to wrinkle his nose.
Yet still, strangely enough, with every new kill, Shen Yuan’s ability to affect the physical world grew.
He’d move things around the house, he’d stroke Binghe’s hair, and he’d speak softly into his ears.
All of it made Binghe even more desperate.
At one point Shen Yuan ended up using blood to write on the walls, asking Binghe to stop, to move on, to live his life happily without ghosts.
“I will never leave you, and when I’m finished, you’ll never leave me either”
That was…ominous.
Years went by and Binghe’s words stayed true, no matter how much Shen Yuan pleaded, Binghe refused to forget about him.
And with every new slaughter, Shen Yuan grew more and more connected with his dead body.
One day, almost a decade later, Shen Yuan woke up with a gasp, feeling more solid than he had in years.
“Yuan-ge,” Binghe’s voice whispered, curling into Shen Yuan’s ears.
Shen Yuan shivered, panicking and scared, uncertain about what had happened.
Binghe held him throughout it all, comforting him in his arms as he gently took Shen Yuan out of the bloodied bathtub and cleaned him, careful with every movement he made.
“We’re finally together again,” Binghe muttered into Shen Yuan’s hair, his grip almost too tight.
Shen Yuan sighed, he reached out an unsteady hand and placed it on Binghe's cheek.
“Look at you, so old already and yet still so sticky,” Shen Yuan chided.
Binghe gave him a beaming smile and Shen Yuan felt himself melt.
Oh well, it's not like he could honestly stay angry with Binghe.