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“You’re going to rub your wrist raw.”
At Hè Xuán’s words Xiè Lián goes still, a guilty look on his face. The man has been gripping his left wrist with his right hand and rubbing it back and forth in what looks like a painful nervous habit.
“Sorry,” Xiè Lián says with a laugh that’s half hysterical. “San Lang usually stops me from doing it.”
“Well ‘San Lang’ can’t do much of anything at present.”
It’s true, and probably a bit mean to point out, but Hè Xuán’s patience is paper thin. He’s not even sure why he’s here in the first place. Shī Qīngxuán had just babbled something about making sure her friend was okay while making sure Hè Xuán’s friend was okay and then hung up on him. As though Huā Chéng can be called Hè Xuán’s friend. A preposterous notion.
The hospital room is quiet now that the sound of Xiè Lián attempting to light a fire purely through his own skin’s friction has stopped. It’s winter, so it’s dark early, and the room is cast in the low glow of artificial light from a strip in the wall above the head of the bed. Huā Chéng, always such a larger than life presence, looks oddly diminished in the bed. His usual eyepatch has been replaced by a softer one, suitable for sleep and for the surgery he just endured, and his hair has been braided to keep it out of the way. Not that that stops the wild strands from escaping. His face is peaceful in sleep, none of the sharply arched eyebrows and smirking mouth, the room devoid of his cutting remarks. Hè Xuán thinks it’s a vast improvement.
Hè Xuán feels his phone vibrate in his pocket and takes it out to see a text from Shī Qīngxuán.
Shī Qīngxuán
> How’s it going?
Hè Xuán looks up in time to see Xiè Lián brushing a piece of hair back from Huā Chéng’s face, Huā Chéng turning his head towards the touch, seeking him even in sleep. Hè Xuán’s lip curls in disdain.
Hè Xuán
< Nausea-inducing
Shī Qīngxuán
> 😂😂😂🥺🥺🥺🙏🙏🙏
> How can it possibly be nausea-inducing? I thought HC is out cold?
Hè Xuán
< You’d be surprised
Hè Xuán ignores the buzz of another incoming text, no doubt just another string of emojis, as Huā Chéng lets out a little groan.
“Oh!” exclaims Xiè Lián as Huā Chéng blinks awake, shooting out of his chair and hovering uselessly. “He’s waking up, Hè Xuán! Oh I should, oh —”
It’s quite funny, the way Xiè Lián flutters about, torn between getting a nurse and being by Huā Chéng’s side when he wakes. He seems to have forgotten that there’s a call button for this very purpose.
The decision seems to be made for him when Huā Chéng’s eye finds him, blinking hazily for a moment, before going very, very wide.
“Oh,” Huā Chéng sighs, breathless. “Hello.”
“Hello, San Lang,” Xiè Lián replies, fond and warm as he draws closer to the bed. “How’re you feeling?”
Huā Chéng blinks at him as though the question was in French, giving Xiè Lián just enough time to start looking worried before he says, the words slightly slurred, “I’m fine now Gege’s here.”
Hè Xuán rolls his eyes and slumps further down in his seat. Honestly. His presence isn’t even noticed or needed.
“That’s very sweet,” Xiè Lián laughs, the sound making Huā Chéng’s face light up like Christmas. “But I need to know if you’re in pain so I can tell the nurse.”
“You’re not my nurse?” Huā Chéng asks, then frowns at himself. “Of course not, he’s an angel, you idiot.”
Xiè Lián immediately looks panicked.
“San Lang, you don’t know who I am?”
The question is wavering on the edge of a total meltdown and Hè Xuán suspects he’ll have to step in soon. But not yet, because it’s funny.
“You’re Gege,” Huā Chéng replies, instantly.
So apparently even with anaesthesia-induced amnesia Huā Chéng knows he likes to call Xiè Lián Gege. It would be sweet if it wasn’t so disgusting.
Xiè Lián’s brow has pinched into a mew, an unhappy little frown on his lips. Huā Chéng looks deeply distressed by this development, even going so far as attempting to sit up, though what that would achieve Hè Xuán isn’t sure. Either way, Huā Chéng’s efforts are thwarted as Xiè Lián presses him gently but firmly back down. Huā Chéng goes starry eyed at this display of strength.
“Don’t get up!” Xiè Lián admonishes, fluffing his pillows and making sure he’s properly tucked in before broaching the subject again. “I meant do you know my actual name?”
Huā Chéng pauses, searching Xiè Lián’s face as though the answer will be written on it in sharpie, desperate not to disappoint. Eventually he seems to decide on a different course of action as his mouth curls into a familiar smirk.
“I don’t know Gege’s name,” he says, sly and playful as reaches out and curls a lock of Xiè Lián’s hair around his finger. “But perhaps I can call you mine?”
Xiè Lián chokes and splutters, face flushing a brilliant red despite being married to the man flirting with him. Any embarrassment is quickly squashed by panic as Xiè Lián realises the implication of Huā Chéng’s words. Hè Xuán just can't believe that Huā Chéng is actually hitting on his own husband like he just met him at a bar. Except he can. Because it's them.
“Relax,” Hè Xuán interjects for the first time, making three eyes swivel in his direction. “The nurse said it was likely he’d be spacey when he awoke. I’m sure if you give him a few hours he’ll know exactly who you are.”
Xiè Lián looks somewhat comforted, though still obviously worried, whereas Huā Chéng’s expression has shifted to one of shrewd suspicion.
“Who are you?” he asks, with none of the warmth that was directed towards Xiè Lián.
“Ah, San Lang,” Xiè Lián steps in, placing a hand on Huā Chéng’s arm, which immediately arrests all of Huā Chéng’s attention. “That’s Hè Xuán, he’s a friend. Isn’t it nice that he’s here to check on you?”
Huā Chéng makes a noncommittal noise, more focused on bringing a hand up to Xiè Lián’s so he can lace their fingers together. He looks very pleased with this development. Hè Xuán thinks if he rolls his eyes anymore he’s going to turn into Mu Qing.
“How’s everyone doing in here?” a nurse says as she enters, smiling at Huā Chéng. “Ah Mr Huā, you’re awake. Would you like some water?”
“Oh, I should’ve thought of that,” Xiè Lián berates himself, using one hand to grab the jug of water on the bedside table and pour a glassful as his other hand is still held prisoner by Huā Chéng.
“Gege was doing very well taking care of me already,” Huā Chéng assures him, which would maybe be more convincing if his words weren’t slurred. Xiè Lián smiles regardless and holds out the glass so the straw is in easy reach of Huā Chéng’s mouth.
Despite the positioning, Huā Chéng struggles to navigate getting the straw in his mouth. It’s objectively hilarious, and Hè Xuán is just about to start filming before Xiè Lián beats him to it by freeing his other hand and holding the straw steady to guide it between Huā Chéng’s lips.
Huā Chéng doesn’t look happy about having lost Xiè Lián’s hand, but he drinks obediently, looking up at Xiè Lián for approval like a child showing that they can eat their vegetables. Xiè Lián smiles encouragingly at him and Huā Chéng looks mollified. Hè Xuán considers whether a fall from a fourth floor window would kill him.
He ultimately decides against it as he reckons if the fall doesn’t finish him off, he’ll be bed bound with no way to escape if these two decide to come visit him.
Xiè Lián asks the nurse a few questions about Huā Chéng’s forgetfulness, which the nurse assures him is entirely normal and will wear off in a few hours at most. She then asks Huā Chéng about his pain levels and whether there’s anything else she can do for him. Huā Chéng answers easily enough, but most of his attention is focused on Xiè Lián. Hè Xuán sees the exact moment he notices the ring on Xiè Lián’s finger. He looks so crestfallen you’d think Xiè Lián had died, not gotten married.
The nurse finishes her questions and takes her leave, looking amused by the rigidity of Huā Chéng’s last couple of answers.
“Gege’s married?” Huā Chéng asks the moment the nurse is gone, his voice wavering.
Xiè Lián looks surprised, then looks down at his ring and grins.
“I am yes,” he confirms, touching a finger to the ring.
“Oh,” Huā Chéng says in a very small voice.
Hè Xuán witnesses Xiè Lián’s realisation that he can fuck with his husband for a change rather than being on the receiving end of the teasing. Xiè Lián’s lips curl into a deceptively sweet smile and Hè Xuán reorganises everything he thought he knew about the man.
“Does your partner make you happy?” Huā Chéng asks, looking like maybe there’s a chance he can get a foot in the door.
Xiè Lián abruptly closes that door by saying, “oh yes, my husband makes me the happiest I’ve ever been.”
Huā Chéng nods like he’s just received a death sentence.
“We live in a lovely apartment, with a gorgeous little terrace garden,” Xiè Lián is saying, apparently enjoying himself. “We have two cats, one black, one white, and we like to cook together and go on trips to the countryside.”
“I see,” Huā Chéng says, staring at his hands where they’re gripping each other in his lap. He takes a big breath, stealing himself with his eye closed, before he turns to Xiè Lián with a shaky smile and says. “I’m very glad he makes you happy, Gege.”
Xiè Lián, the coward, folds immediately.
“Oh San Lang, you silly man, you’re my husband.”
Watching Huā Chéng absorb the words is like watching a sunrise. It paints his face slowly, first with disbelief, then with tentative hope, then with an all consuming joy.
“Really?” Huā Chéng asks, eye searching Xiè Lián’s face for any sign of deception.
“Really,” Xiè Lián confirms, looking impossibly fond. “We’ve been married for two years, together for four.”
Huā Chéng does a happy little wiggle that Hè Xuán has never seen from the likes of him, and if Huā Chéng wasn’t so drugged up Hè Xuán expects he never would have seen it at all.
“How did I propose?” Huā Chéng asks, looking like a starving man eager for scraps.
“Oh I proposed to you,” Xiè Lián laughs and Huā Chéng’s eye goes very wide.
“No,” he says, shaking his head. “Really? No.”
“Really,” Xiè Lián says again, looking mighty pleased with how he’s blowing his husband’s mind at the moment. “I asked you after only six months of dating, but then it took you a year and a half to plan the wedding. You said everything had to be perfect. Our anniversary was last week.”
Huā Chéng looks somewhat more convinced that he’d wanted the wedding to be perfect.
“I’m surprised it didn’t take me longer,” is his only concession.
“Oh it would have,” Xiè Lián agrees. “But I said if we never set a date then we’d never be husbands, and that seemed to convince you.”
Huā Chéng nods as if this makes perfect sense. Then he looks horrified.
“Where’s my ring?”
Xiè Lián places a soothing hand on his arm and uses the other to hook the necklace he wears out from under his t-shirt.
“I kept it safe here,” Xiè Lián says, showing the ring hanging from the necklace. “It’s where I put my own when I’m working with my hands, so I figured it would be a safe place for yours while you were in theatre.”
Huā Chéng is evidently relieved by the safety of his ring and tentatively extends his hand.
“Will Gege put it back on me?”
He looks so cautiously hopeful, as though it’s not a given that Xiè Lián indulges every one of his whims. Xiè Lián immediately unclasps the necklace and lets the ring slide off into his hand. He’s quick to reclasp the necklace before taking Huā Chéng’s hand tenderly in his. He slides the ring on with all the reverence he did at their wedding ceremony, eyes flicking between Huā Chéng’s hand and his face.
“There,” Xiè Lián says softly, and Huā Chéng stares at his ring with an eye the size of a saucer.
“It’s perfect, Gege.”
“Aaand, that’s about all I can manage for one day,” Hè Xuán interrupts, standing up.
Huā Chéng and Xiè Lián turn to him, Huā Chéng’s expression immediately going from pleased to a sneer. Well, at least Xiè Lián is smiling at him.
“Ah, thank you for coming, Hè Xuán,” Xiè Lián says, looking very embarrassed that Hè Xuán witnessed the tender moment between him and his husband. Hè Xuán wonders if Xiè Lián forgot he was there. It wouldn’t have been the first time.
Hè Xuán waves off the thanks and heads for the door.
“Whatever, you can get him to take it off my debt,” he says as he exits.
And if he allows himself a small smile at the fond sound of Huā Chéng’s voice as he turns his attention back to Xiè Lián, that’s no one’s business but his own.