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time is fleeting. it is the steady drag of hands around a circle, the clock paying no mind to the desperation that people cling to in the hope that time will stop for just a moment and allow for just a little more. jing yuan finds that he curses time without knowing it. he stands behind his desk, hands behind his back as he looks at the papers scattered across his desk, his scrawled handwriting detailing reports from the cloud knights, logistics within the xianzhou alliance, and piled in the corner, never to be put away, are the sparsely gathered notes of your whereabouts.
he finds himself reaching for the papers, thumbing through the paper, some recent, others months, now years, old. he finds that he can’t quite remember the last time he saw you, and the memory of your last moments with him have begun to slip from the front of his memory. he hates the feeling. he curses the fact that he cannot hear your laughter echoing in his office any longer, as if your own memory was pulling away, trying to flee from the grasp he has so selfishly held onto for so long. you were there, and then you weren’t. an expedition gone wrong, a ship attacked and no sign of communication, now labeled as a closed case by the xianzhou alliance. but those close to jing yuan know that he’s never truly given up on it. instead he finds his mind drifting back to the day of your departure.
“don’t worry about me,” you stand proud at the docks, decorated outfit a sign of your standing in luofu. both yours and his companions had allow you both some space, privacy amongst the boxes of cargo and decorated architecture. jing yuan has no reason to doubt your abilities, after all, you had risen in the ranks alongside him and he is more than confident in your own skill. that doesn’t mean he isn’t worried. he can fight in wars, lead soldiers into the dark unknown and yet the thought of you leaving for an expedition scares him more than he would like to admit. it’s the nagging feeling that tugs in the back of his mind, warning him to ask you to stay, just one more time.
but jing yuan had always been good at hiding his intentions, presenting a calm and collected front to offer some semblance of comfort to those that look up at him. and he finds that his facade is a bit too easy to put on as he chuckles softly at your words.
“you will make all of us proud,” his voice is uncharacteristically soft, and he’d be damned if his companions heard the way he spoke to you in private. “i look forward to your return.”
you smile softly, offering him a reassuring smile, “i’ll be back before you know it.” he isn’t sure if the smile is meant to reassure him or you. there are unsaid words between the two of you, a delicately drawn line that the neither of you have dared to cross. instead, over the years you’ve resorted to a game of cat and mouse, both of you taking turns to play predator and prey. what went from teenage games has become something more, and yet neither of you had the courage to cross the line. he curses time in this moment, wishing that he could have just a bit longer to sort out this poorly woven tapestry that the two of you have created. he wants to tie the loose ends and seal it off, but you’re already slipping from his grasp.
“jing yuan—“ hands cup your cheeks before you can finish speaking and he pulls you close, lips desperately finding yours as your hands fly up to steady yourself on him. he’s moving all too fast, heart thundering and mind racing as he pulls away, wide eyed and apologies on his lips. but they die when he sees the subtle movement of you chasing after him, hands curling around his clothes as your lips tremble. you stare at him in shock but make no move to pull away.
“come back to me, promise me,” he breathes out. his hands fall to your waist as if to steady you and to keep him grounded. he doesn’t care if anyone else is around any longer. let them see for all he cares, and let them know how much he will miss you while you’re away.
“of course,” you sound breathless, eyes searching his. you smile gently and let your hand come up to gently cup his cheek. your other hand goes to brush away the hair that has fallen into your face. you stay like that for a moment, indulging in one second, two seconds, three seconds— you pull away.
your hands move to the back of your head, fingers tugging at the red ribbon in your hair. it’s silk of the finest kind, and yet you pull it free in one swift movement.
“take this as my promise,” you offer it to him with a smile that almost worries him. “give it back to me when i return.” he smiles in amusement but indulges in letting his fingers drag across your palm as he takes it from your hand.
then time calls back to you both as the ship horn sounds, a signal to prepare to leave. he swallows thickly when neither of you make an effort to go. no doubt your companions will come searching so he takes the step forward again and pulls you close, sealing every unsaid word with a kiss that has you grasping at him to stay close. you two aren’t meant to be doing this in secret. you aren’t meant to be behind cargo boxes like teenagers, holding onto one another as if you were dying in his arms. and yet here you are.
“i should go,” you step away first and jing yuan feels his chest constrict. he can’t read the emotions in your eyes, the way you can’t meet his gaze, the way your fingers tremble, and the way you take deep breaths as if to calm yourself. but you cast aside his worries when you shake your head and throw your arms around him, hugging him tight. his hands find placement at your back and you stay like that until your companions find you locked in embrace.
“general.” a sharp voice cuts him from his daydreams and jing yuan looks at the holographic image of yukong standing by his desk. she looks upset, more so than usual and he puts on an easy expression as he asks what’s wrong.
“we have guests from the astral express, tingyun has informed me they are on their way. we’ll send over more information as they arrive.” he nods as she disappears. jing yuan looks back over at the papers and sighs. his hand comes up to thumb at the ribbon in his hair and he asks if you are still out there and well.
time is fleeting. and jing yuan wishes you had promised to return, not avoided the words as if you knew that you wouldn’t return. he wishes you didn’t give him the ribbon, and he wishes you never kissed him farewell.
— — —
extra: so why is it, that when he receives word of travellers from the astral express arriving in luofu that he catches a glimpse of your face amongst the group that has come. why is it, that when tingyun and yukong greet you with some familiarity, you shy away and apologize that you don’t quite recognize them. and why is it, that it hurts so damn much when you look at him with no remembrance of who he is. the ribbon in his hair feels like it’s slipping.