Chapter Text
“What are you doing here?”
The question rumbles inside Mu Qing’s head. Alcohol is tricky, he notices, it makes you think and rethink a large number of things — yet your tongue could incriminate you before you stop it. And there are so many things he could say: I ran away and this was the first place I thought of, or maybe Mom is gone now. There’s nowhere else I’d go.
He sticks with an easy response. “This is the closest place I found as soon as the rain started pouring.”
Feng Xin won’t question that one. Mu Qing has learnt over the years that he’s better with logical thinking, and no one knows it better than Feng Xin himself. The one who would enquire ad nauseam if he even had a heart under those layers of flesh and bones. It doesn’t bother him, even though he might respond with a scoff. He himself has wondered if he’s able to feel emotions like everybody else, or at least express them. He didn’t cry when his mom passed, although a paralising feeling pierced through every single corner of his brain until nothing around him made sense. Fear, probably. He has heard a ton of people say that it’s normal to freeze in moments like that one.
He’s frozen to the spot, too, when Feng Xin looks up and down, like he’s scanning the miserable view in front of his eyes — lowkey judging it (probably), nay confused. Like he wasn’t ready to have Mu Qing knock desperately on his door at 5am of a stupid rainy Thursday, as if Feng Xin owed him welcoming him inside his house.
Now the entrance is a mess of a puddle, Mu Qing notices as soon as he looks down to their feet. If he didn’t have a good control of his bladder, he’d think he has miserably peed himself in front of his friend or whatever. Gosh, if he only remembered what the fuck he had drunk earlier all of this would be easier. But right now, the past few hours of his life are too cloudy to even remember why he started wandering around the city like a freak.
“The baby’s sleeping, I won’t let you in in this state.”, Feng Xin whispers. He sounds mad, and he has the right to be mad.
However, not getting the answer he was expecting (surprisingly enough, because somehow his drunk self has made up an image in which Feng Xin welcomes him with open arms) makes Mu Qing step back slightly horrified. A friend wouldn’t let you sleep on the street if you’re drunk. A friend wouldn’t even let you walk on the street if it’s raining like there’s no tomorrow. But they have never been friends, haven’t they?
“I’m sorry, I—”, he mutters, each syllable tripping into each other, “I’m sorry. I’ll find somewhere else where I can stay.”
He turns around, slightly losing his stability for a few seconds. Everything around him is moving, it makes him wonder how the fuck he managed to walk over three kilometres in this state. Which is worse: walking over three kilometres knowing for certain that Feng Xin wouldn’t let him in. But in a moment of weakness, he’s still a fragile man under those harsh words and cold heart. Though he rightfully feels Feng Xin is not being fair: he hasn’t done anything wrong in the last months. He needed his space after he found out the baby was on the way, and Mu Qing made sure he had given it to him. But probably there was something else underneath his plea. Maybe not only did he want him to be away for the time being, more like he wanted him to disappear forever.
He hasn’t heard the door close yet. Maybe Feng Xin is that fucking sadistic so as to watch him trip and fall in the mud, drunk and under the rain, a scene worthy of those stupid comedy movies he enjoys so much.
“Take this.”, Feng Xin says, wrapping a baby blanket around him.
Mu Qing looks over his shoulders, the action took him by surprise and now he feels his legs giving up. But the only thing that keeps him on his feet is that Feng Xin was probably sleeping and he wouldn’t like to make him fall too.
“Come inside.”, he whispers again.
The baby’s sleeping, he remembers, they can’t startle him awake. Mu Qing remembers the days he worked as a babysitter, and how difficult it was to make them fall asleep again. Although Feng Xin does his best to avoid his gaze, Mu Qing notices the purple bags under his eyes.
He remembers seeing a picture of the baby the day he was born. He had commented something along the lines of “Congratulations” and Feng Xin did not respond. At first he guessed he was busy, but then time passed and still no answers to either the comment or the few texts he had sent over time. He should have known something was bad.
“You know what? I can stay at a hotel.”, Mu Qing whispers. “I apologise again, you have tons of things to worry about.”
But Feng Xin shakes his head. “You’ve been drinking, I can’t let you go. I not a fucking asshole, what if—…?”
He suddenly stops and sighs. Only then the night in which Xie Lian had the accident came to his mind. He had been drinking, too. They should have brought him home because neither of them had had a drop of alcohol, but Xie Lian had left the party with someone else as soon as they lost him.
He feels shivers down his spine. He’s doing well, they still talk from time to time. But the sound of their phones waking them up the next morning, the fear of not knowing if he’s going to survive, remains in their nightmares.
They sit down, with two glasses of water between them. The house is a mess, but it’s fine. Feng Xin has a baby to care for now. He has a family, and that’s okay. Mu Qing had his friends of the student residence, and that was okay too. At least for some time.
“Shouldn’t you be at your dorms?”, Feng Xin asks. “What the fuck did you do to—...?”, his hands point at the mess that his clothes are. “You never drink.”
“I think I had a fight with them.”, he responds. He recalls the voice of one of them yelling at him to leave the house. He feels the swell of punch on his left eye, that’ll probably leave a bruise that’s going to last for a few days. “And I do drink now.”
Feng Xin doesn’t question the last sentence, quietly accepting that Mu Qing has changed a lot since the last time they saw each other. It hasn’t been that long, but he’s definitely not the same. Mu Qing watches him stand up and look for a bag of frozen blueberries inside of his refrigerator.
“If only you weren’t always fighting.”, he throws the bag at him. Mu Qing catches it so naturally, like some sort of training has prepared him to do so.
“You never punched me.”, he responds. “You might curse the shit out of me; you might have every valid reason to feel like you are dying to slap me, but you never ever even touch me.”
He lifts his eyes and sees how Feng Xin silently sits on his chair. His t-shirt is dirty with baby food, something that he never thought he would see. Feng Xin has always been the one that despised the idea of being around children — he’d say he struggled to take care of himself and much less he’d be able to take care of a child. But he looks good. Feng Xin has always managed to look good even at his worst moments.
“Does this happen often?”
“Why do you care?”
“Because I respect you?”, Feng Xin responds. “Because I fucking care for you?”
"Mhm.", Mu Qing lowers his gaze.
His roommates are definitely not the best. The moment his mom found out about the fact that he was moving into a small house that at least a dozen twenty-something- year-olds would share, she was horrified. She insisted that he didn't have to leave her house, the neighbourhood that had seen him grow up. But people change. People grow, kids leave their homes, the old men die and their mourning wives knit their sorrows away and give their creations to the children's hospital or whatever. It has always been like that. Some of his old friends are getting married, some others are living abroad. Why would he be the one to stay?
They were interesting, at first. But having grown up only with his mom, getting used to sharing his space with other people had become one of the biggest issues. And that lead to problems.
"I'm not a good roommate.", Mu Qing says. "And I also lay a few good punches on them."
Feng Xin laughs at that comment. He has missed the annoying sound of that stupid laugh. He has missed the way his dimples show up even when he attempts to smirk. The dimples that betray him so easily when he tries to hide his smile.
It just makes sense that the baby wakes up with the sound of his laugh. Feng Xin mutters an apology the moment he starts crying, and runs to his room to pick him up. When he comes back the baby has already calmed down, his head resting comfortably on his father's chest. The image makes him smile. Who would have known that Feng Xin's hands would grab something so tenderly, so carefully?
"He's…"
"Xiaojian (小健).", he says. "But I call him CuoCuo."
Mu Qing rolls his eyes at the nickname, to openly call his own child a mistake is such a Feng Xin thing to do. He doesn't ask to hold him, although by now the remains of alcohol in his system are almost gone, he can't trust his hands to hold something so small. He can't bring himself to ask Feng Xin for such a favor, too.
"I'm sorry for waking him up.", Mu Qing apologises. Even though he's well aware that Feng Xin laughed loud enough to wake his son up, it wouldn't have happened if Mu Qing hadn't arrived at such an inappropriate time in this state. "I should get going."
"I won't let you go back there.", Feng Xin replies. "As much as you're sick as hell for ringing my bell at 5am in the morning, I can’t let you go back to them right now. You are drinking now, you are getting in physical fights, you go back to the places that hurt you repeatedly… who the fuck are you? I don't recognise you anymore."
Mu Qing shakes his head. "You don't understand. This is who I am now."
"Well I may not understand, but I see that you've been bleeding and that you're hurt."
He stops himself from saying whatever he was about to respond, and closes his eyes. He could yell at Feng Xin that he doesn't understand why he is whom he is now. Or that he doesn't know why they stopped seeing each other in so long. He could also say that he doesn’t recognise him either which, sadly, is true. And as much as he doesn't hate this new version of Feng Xin, he would have loved to see it blossom.
“Thank you.”, he just manages to say.
Feng Xin nods. “Whenever you need.”
It’s a cute habit from him. Feng Xin never says ”You’re welcome”, more like he lets you know that he’d do it again if you ever need it.
It’s not that long until Mu Qing is finally able to fall asleep. Feng Xin doesn’t have a couch, and much less would let him fall asleep on his bed, but resting his head on the table is enough for him to find a place that’s fully comfortable, and probably for the first time in years he wakes up by noon.
Next to him, Feng Xin has left a few glasses of water, a new bag for his eye (frozen cherries this time), and some fruits that he can eat if he woke up and he wasn’t around. But it’s Feng Xin who startles him awake, shaking his shoulder not so carefully.
“What’s wrong with you?!”, Mu Qing says.
“It’s my table and I’m fucking hungry, ok? Move.”, Feng Xin says.
But he doesn’t sound angry like he probably intends, and Mu Qing notices. He could stay with him, he could talk with him without alcohol in his system, he could help him clean the mess he made by stepping into his house dirty with mud and rain. However, when he sees that Feng Xin has already cleaned, he just takes off the baby blanket around his shoulders and leaves it on the chair he was sitting on. It’s been too long, he should get back to his apartment. He’s already late to classes but he could at least pick a book and start studying, leave Feng Xin alone.
“I must leave.”, he says. The sound of the knife cutting some veggies suddenly stops.
The look that Feng Xin gives him over his shoulder is that one of a person who’s disappointed. If the reason for it is the fact that he’s not staying or that he’s just disappointed of who Mu Qing has become, he has no idea nor he wants to know.
“Again, I apologise.”, Mu Qing continues. “And thank you for letting me in.”
He walks to the door, and waits for Feng Xin to open it for him. Silence surrounds them, but it’s not actually uncomfortable. It’s very familiar, very natural. The rain has already stopped, and the sun is shining the brightest it has in this last week.
When he steps out and walks down the short stairs in front of Feng Xin’s home, he hears a soft but clear:
“Whenever you need.”