Archive of Our Own

Perhaps the biggest mistake Jiang Cheng committed was thinking that a new place would make him a new person. 

It was simple, foolish, and naive thinking and he hated how it showed how desperate he was to get away from it all, how stupid he was to believe in something he had made up all by himself. And it's lasted him six years— six years of hanging by a thread,  convincing himself that he's happy, well paid, and definitely not lonely (and guess what? only one of them is actually true.) His new and  spacious apartment  that allowed dogs was enough along with his precious Cala, a fluffy, white samoyed dog that woke him up every morning. Every day, he told himself it was enough. 

Because this was what you wanted, right? 

Jiang Cheng prided himself in his adaptability, a big reason why he became a web developer was his ability to map things out and know where they fit. It's embedded in the system along with the coding he learned, systematic and no room for error and it runs so well on the outside. He knows all the buttons, his whole self is a map filled with a barely working supply of serotonin, self-defense mechanisms and other such joyful wonders. He knows where it ticks, and most specially what it entices. He's safe as long as he's by himself in this supposed 'new life', an instant lockdown once something invades his space. 

And that's why it's awfully disorienting at four in the afternoon once the shock reaches his signals and he's praying to all gods above that he wasn't hallucinating. If his eyes and memory still function well, he's pretty sure there's a tall, attractive (that's not the point), and familiar man by his door along with a kid that barely reaches the knob, looking like he could be his child. 

Maybe if he knew what was going to happen ten minutes later he would have stopped chopping the vegetables and locked the door. Maybe if he recognized the voice enough he'd have shut himself in and buried himself in his bedroom or resumed talking with his client. Maybe if he knew who his neighbors were going to be he wouldn't have moved in.  But no, really, it was the kid that threw his senses off. 

Ten minutes ago, in the middle of preparing for dinner, he hears a young and excited voice from outside constantly chided by a gentler one. 

"Uncle, where's the door located?"

"The sixth door from here, Jingyi, can you count it?"

"Yes, yes. I know how to count up to one-hundred! I'll count for you later. I'll run up to the door!" 

"Be careful... wait, Jingyi no, that's not the door, it's the one on the le-"

"There's so many boxes!"

At this point he hears the man's footsteps increase in speed, obviously embarrassed by the turn of events. He reaches for the opened room, and quickly holds the kid by his shoulders, cheeks a shade of red. "Jingyi, that's our new neighbor's." His eyes look for the man in question, looking a bit sheepish. "I apologize, I didn't tell him soo—" The words die in his mouth, trickling down slowly in realization as he notices the lack of surprise. 

The recognition loads slowly, but the man's gaze is enough to make Jiang Cheng drop everything and freeze. 

He's said it before, he knows people. He knows their buttons and where it ticks. But this time his mind was possibly going into overdrive and it felt like accidentally lighting up an array of fireworks, loud, explosive, and yet so stunningly beautiful and it shakes him to the core. 

He knows him, knows every inch of him. His straight eyebrows, the curve of his jaw and the paleness of his skin. It's not all too unfamiliar and once again life has come to bite him back in the ass. 

It's nauseating how he remembers the feel of his skin on his hands, the radiating warmth, and remembers his gentle and calming scent. Almost minty with a hint of sweetness. The feeling of remembering makes his stomach churn like riding a pendulum in full swing after hitting its highest point at zero degrees, and memories come washing to him like an ocean wave. 

You're going to step back and smile, pretend it doesn't exist . Maybe laugh and cough a little, straighten your shoulders and hold your head up high.  Jiang Cheng observes him, Xichen's hands wrapping tighter around the boy. It's only a few seconds until he responds. 

He fails to notice his lack of information on the boy, a kid's actions always too hard to grasp, no definite patterns and nothing to hide. It interrupts his calculations. 

It would have been nice to reboot in that stop-motion moment of silence, but the kid doesn't notice the heaviness of the atmosphere. Bless him, really. 

"Uncle, is this the new neighbor?!"

"Xichen." He states. It's not a call, not an address, it's more of a statement that he whispered to remind himself. 

Xichen tears away from his gaze and talks to Jingyi instead. "Y-yes, Jingyi." His voice is a bit strained. "He is." 

Jiang Cheng resigns himself in front of the child, emotional distress could be dealt with later, (or never) and sighs shakily. "I just moved in here. Is your name Jingyi?" 

After all his enthusiasm in front of Xichen, Jingyi was surprisingly shy in front of strangers and clung to his leg. "Yes.." He says a bit quietly now. 

Jiang Cheng notes how cute he is, if he did not so painfully resemble his 'uncle'. But it isn't the kid's fault. He crouches down a bit to his level and smiles, thanking last morning's Jiang Cheng for taking a few pieces of candy in his pocket. He looks up to Xichen before quickly looking away, was it even possible for him to shine so goddamn bright? He coughs. "Is he allowed sweets?"

"From time to time." He answers and Jiang Cheng pulls out a lollipop from his pocket and hands it to an enthusiastic Jingyi who thanks him loudly. 

Jiang Cheng smiles a little and straightens his back, releasing a breath. 

Xichen gathers enough courage to ask. "So you're here, huh?" It's a little awkward and unplanned as it leaves his lips and he regrets even speaking at all.

"Yes. Further from my office, I don't have to go there everyday." His tone is sharper. 

"Never thought I'd find you here." 

So now you care? The statement catches him off-guard, but he waves it off as casual conversation for etiquette's sake. It's almost laughable how he hasn't changed a bit. "Didn't think I would either." 

"I haven't been here for too long either. Just about a year and a half. I teach kindergarten in a school just a few blocks away, and a relative asked me to pick Jingyi up." 

He almost forgets how long it's been, and he tries not to think of the fact that he was still guilty for something Xichen had probably forgotten long ago. "I see..." There isn't much to say—or well there really shouldn't be any more to say because god forbid anything come out from his mouth in this awkward mess of a situation he's gotten in and he's embarrassed as much as he is angry, stressed, and tired all at the same time. 

He wasn't going to say he was still attracted. Heavens no , not  even a little bit. He could not have just one fucking type for the entirety of his life. And what was his type, exactly? The kind that left him in emotional distress for over six years and suddenly because of some odd kind of fucked up fate voila, they're neighbors. 

Even porn had a better plot than this. 

But tragic pasts and guilt aside, Xichen was thankfully good at reading the atmosphere, and truthfully, he felt just as awkward as Jiang Cheng. "Well then, we won't be keeping you any longer. I apologize for the sudden intrusion, I suppose." He flashes him a smile. "We'll head back now. If you ever need help unpacking you can uh- you can knock on my door." He leaves it as that before Jiang Cheng sighs and nods, bidding the two goodbye before he slams the door shut. 

It takes a moment for him to register that they're gone, everything happening so quickly. 

He pinches his nose and tries to calm his now rapidly beating heart that almost hurt his chest to breathe. All he really wanted was to eat,  why did that have to be so difficult too? 

Frustrated, he rolls his neck and gets back to the kitchen promptly, pouring his stress all over the poor belle pepper tightly cut into tiny pieces. Two things were for sure, he'd definitely be more careful in going out now and he'd have to avoid Lan Xichen as much as possible. 

-

Wei Wuxian is loud. Jiang Cheng has always known this fact but it is only today, of all the years he’s known him that he finds Weu Wuxian is the ‘baby screaming in the middle of a busy restaurant’ kind of loud.

"—you're telling me, your ex is back as your neighbor?! And he ran right in your room?! God, Jiang Cheng. What kind of drama are you living in?"

"The kind where I hopefully find some resolve to keep on living or maybe almost die in a car crash, get amnesia forever and be able to change my name and identity with a snap of a finger. And also, Wei Wuxian, he was never my anything." 

"Almost die in a car crash and change your identity? Sounds like the plot of Birth of a Beauty to me. Jiang Cheng, don't plagiarize." Nie Huaisang takes a sip of his drink politely, trying to hide his shudder at the bitter liquid, the bright green tasting like melted plastic and casts a pointed look toward him. 

"Tell that to all the other dramas." Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes. "All I have to do is avoid him." 

"You know, I was pretty sure you two were together." Wei Wuxian utters quietly in all seriousness, looking somewhat genuinely confused. 

Jiang Cheng stares at him in disbelief. He knew Wei Wuxian of all people would actually know what went on, but then again, it wasn't like he decided to speak after that. Codes don't work unless they're labeled. And he didn't like talking about things that weren't established. 

He, Wei Wuxian, and Nie Huaisang, old high school buddies would go for drinks and take their minds off all the stress at least once a month (or twice, if it was an emergency. And emergencies happened a lot considering their shared braincell.) It's not like there was ever anything interesting enough in thirty days and oftentimes it was just the three of them laughing at the dumb stuff. Today's session, however, has taken a turn toward Jiang Cheng's apparent K-drama-esque life and it's taken both his friends' interests. 

"Me too," Huaisang agrees, nodding his head sagely. "It looked like you were."

“Things aren’t always what they seem, Huaisang.” Jiang Cheng scoffs.

“Right. That’s why we always have a much-needed plot twist,” Wei Wuxian slams his hands on the table, resting his chin on his palm. “Look, a rich boy from a not-so-ideal family falls in love with Mr. Perfect but then because of all the internal angst he leaves to do some sort of self discovery or I don’t know— thinking he’s gotten over this past lover but turns out fate really wants them to be together. Thank heavens!” He re-enacts with as much enthusiasm as an actual narrator if not for the amount of bullshit he just spewed out on the table. Jiang Cheng couldn’t even begin to comprehend a thing; and the last time he checked, Wei Wuxian didn’t even like watching dramas. 

Across Wei Wuxian, however, Huaisang looked rather intrigued. “Why don’t these sort of things happen to me? My life’s been as boring as unseasoned chicken.” 

“You wanna know?” He snickers. “It’s cause people like Jiang Cheng are so hopeless they need some sort of divine intervention.” 

For a moment Jiang Cheng mistakes the red glow of the neon lights behind Wei Wuxian as the devil’s aura. Most definitely the spawn of Satan himself. 

“Ooo, edgy,”

“Huaisang—” 

“Okay, but what does the guy do though?” Wei Wuxian attempts to reel the conversation back in place before anything else could happen. “I reckon his face is worth millions, He could clearly earn money out of that.” 

Jiang Cheng recalls the previous afternoon, shaking his head slowly. “You knew him as a teacher, he still is.” 

“He could’ve been scouted, we never know. And that was like what, six years ago?” 

“What, you think it’s a job you drop off after two years?”

Huaisang grits his teeth. “Well I definitely would.” 

Lan Xichen’s patience was as long as a sloth’s time to eat and digest his food. A kindergarten teacher most definitely suited his personality, if you count off the messy crayon stains and obnoxiously cute animal-patterned clothing that contrasted with his air of elegance and class. 

That was all Jiang Cheng allowed himself to think of. Lan Xichen was still undeniably handsome. And it’s a fact, nothing emotion-based or anything else that requires a few steps more than just observation. 

“Well,” Jiang Cheng tries to shut off the conversation, stretching out his arms. He could forget him. All he could do was look away. “That’s the extent of what happened, anything else doesn’t really concern me.” 

“Aw,” Wei Wuxian whines. “What a bad neighbor. You know when Mrs. Lee came in next door she offered me apple pie!” 

“Well too bad, I can’t bake apple pie. And it’s not like we’re str-” That wasn’t it. Something didn’t feel right about the statement no matter how much Xichen was sure that he knew every inch of Lan Xichen. What the absolute fuck were they now but a failed almost love story? 

Huaisang looks at Jiang Cheng with an almost pitiful glance, helpless to his gay mental breakdown. “You say you two have nothing more, so you try to nullify such a relationship by forgetting and avoiding, but Xichen at least smiles at you. Ah, Jiang Cheng. Who really is the one forgetting?” He puts down his drink, deciding he’s had enough. “Look, I really don’t know. But if you run away with that thread attached, eventually you’ll pull so far away and you’ll crash right back into everything.” 

He was right. He just didn’t want to hear what he already knew. Sometimes you’d put things off for later long enough and it’ll slowly turn into shame and piling anxiety. Jiang Cheng didn’t know how to handle it just yet. 

“Just— just treat him well as your neighbor.” Wei Wuxian shrugs. “You’ll forget it in no time.” 

“Or maybe you’ll fuck.” Huaisang says quietly. 

“Huaisa-” Part of Wei Wuxian tries to shut him up but he eventually resigns. “Alright, update us if you fuck.” He leans toward Huaisang’s ear. “Three weeks.” 

“Honey, no. This is a slowburn. Two months.”  

“Can we not…narrate my life?” 

“I don’t know Jiang Cheng, maybe then don’t post a fit check on Instagram and caption it ‘main character energy’ if you’re going to reject it.” Nie Huaisang rolls his eyes. 

“Shut up, I posted that on close friends only.” 

“Why don’t any of you remember my posts?” Wei Wuxian sighs.

“I don’t really care about your lit socks.” 

“Thanks- Jian Cheng where on earth are you going?” 

“Going to order more drinks, you guys give me a headache.” 

“Noooo don’t get drunk!” Huaisang tugs on his shirt. “Xichen’s going to find you passed out in front of your door and he’s gonna take you home and then y-”

“Huaisang for the love of all things good please stop.” 

-

Evening comes faster than usual but work doesn’t even let him see the stars. 

Jiang Cheng crouches down on his desktop, wrapping the wool blanket around him like a cocoon. The red and green color palette simply didn’t work too well for a full-page website and he really was judging the client’s tacky tastes for a supposedly high-end business but whatever, as long as he was paid well he really didn’t mind the misplaced aesthetics. 

Even if he tried to tone the palette down into soft pastel hues and it turned into a goddamn Christmas advert. 

The WeChat notifications on his phone blow up like crazy, a staggering mess of his friends’ half-drunk demands on updates and a whole lot of awful puns which, in their intoxicated state, found hilarious. Jiang Cheng was glad he didn’t drink too much. 

With a sigh, he lets go of his mouse and picks up his phone, greeted by a red dot that showcases around three hundred messages. He was definitely not going to read back through all of those. Jiang Cheng almost opens the app but decides against it and rolls his eyes, shutting his phone off quickly before he has to throw it to the wall. 

Suddenly, a knock and the chime of the doorbell comes from his door and— yes, it is his door. Jiang Cheng has to make sure, lest he opens the door to find someone knocking on the one beside his room.

A lot of things run past Jiang Cheng’s mind to whoever is trying to get into his house at almost one am in the morning. For a brief second he considered Wei Wuxian, but he surely had other things to take care of. Huaisang was probably asleep, and surely a burglar would be too polite to ring his doorbell? Wei Wuxian would also not ring the doorbell, in any case. He leans into the peephole and raises his eyebrows at the figure by the door, rather nervous and fidgety but Jiang Cheng decides to open it, nonetheless. 

"Xichen," He almost chokes at the appearance of the man in front of him. This can't be good. He thinks, trying to calm his traitor of a heart that beats rapidly at the sight of Xichen's loose pyjamas, the silk neckline of the top hanging dangerously low and revealing his smooth, fair skin. And did he mention he was wearing glasses? 

Jesus, it was as if all of Jiang Cheng's repressed desires suddenly burst out. He could not think of any model that could hold a candle to his figure. 

But thirst and daydreams aside, Jiang Cheng ultimately decides that things of the past are nothing more and he should at least act the role of neighbor. Even if neighbors weren't supposed to ring your doorbell at 1 AM. "Wh-what do you want?" 

Xichen casts his look downwards at the pile of items in his arms; laundry detergent, boxed snacks, and air fresheners in a huge pile and if Jiang Cheng squinted he was pretty sure there was a bit of pink in his cheeks. "I uh—" He starts. "Seeing as you're the new neighbor and we kind of barged in to you the other day I thought I'd give you some housewarming presents." 

Oh. "But why at one in the morning ?" 

Really, Jiang Cheng? That's all you're going to say?

Xichen chuckles, light and almost lyrical Jiang Cheng's heart almost skipped a beat. "I figured you'd still be awake? I mean I planned to go tomorrow but I thought it was kind of rude to prolong it another day and I didn't know if you were going to be home in the afternoons. I mean I come home at five but—"

He was only ever two things. A blundering mess or an articulate and well-spoken man. It's amusing to see that side of him again. "I get it, Xichen." He stops him from his ramblings before something clicks inside him. "But I never expected you to be awake at this hour?" 

That was another thing Lan Xichen was. An early sleeper and an early riser at the same time. As far as he knew he followed this rule religiously. 

"Ah, that." Xichen yawns. "Well I had to stay up and prepare the materials for tomorrow's class. I could always catch up on their naptime?" 

Jiang Cheng's beginning to see it. The thin, plastic wall that separated them, how his work has rounded his speech and became a part of his life. It was as if Jiang Cheng was pushed out and his teaching came in, this was not solely the Lan Xichen who could waste time on self-discipline like before and there's a tugging, itching feeling in his chest as he thinks of it. 

"Anyway," Xichen steps forward and Jiang Cheng opens his arms to receive the items, careful not to touch his skin like it was the 1920's and any form of bodily contact between non-couples would be considered inappropriate. "That's all I really came for. I didn't disturb you, I hope?"

You already disturb me enough in my mind. "No, I was awake." Jiang Cheng reassures. "Thank you, for this. You didn't have to."

"Oh, but I had to."

 A million questions run around his mind, each trying for a spot. Why did you have to? Is it because you're always too kind for your own good? Is it your image? Is it because you want to show me just how well-off you are now? 

The last one was highly unlikely and just a bit of a self-projection that he made up in order to try and justify his complex feelings. He's overthinking, like always. And despite the many layers of Xichen's thought, most of the time he was so incredibly simple and straightforward that he'd have no reason as to why he does such things. 

Maybe it's the way that they parted that Xichen just found it so much easier to heal. 

He finds his favorite dark chocolate among the pile and sighs, trying to hide his smile. "Then I'll be using this well." 

"Great." Xichen beams (He really needed to stop doing that or Jiang Cheng was going to punch a wall.) "I'll  be going then. Please feel free to call me if you need anything." 

Jiang Cheng grits his teeth. How was he to explain that what he needed was for him to get out of his hair so that he'd finally have peace and not be saddled with such unnecessary feelings. 

But neighbors, for the sake of his mental welfare, he'd have to endure it. 

"I will." He says softly. "Thank you." And he watches him leave the door, turning his back on him to reach his room. 

Jiang Cheng breathes out a sigh of relief. 

-

Life tosses him back and forth like a ragdoll in the middle of a high tide and Jiang Cheng finds himself focusing more on trying not to drown rather than riding the waves. 

Fate is only so kind as to give him about five days worth of peace and routine before he’s unassumingly tossed back in the lion’s den. At 6 in the morning he’s woken up by the thick, gross, slobber of his overly-enthusiastic dog that has just as much effort as an actual alarm clock. Fucking hell, he didn’t even have to go to the office today. 

“Yes, Yes, I’m up, Cala." Jiang Cheng rubs his eyes, slightly shoving away at the dog all over his face. "I'll get your breakfast soon, calm down." He yawns and stretches his arms, heading over to the drawers to scoop out a heaping pile of dry dog food. 

It was strange, Cala had a strong dislike for wet dog food, looking as if the gooey mess was an insult to her very existence and Jiang Cheng has long since stopped trying to get her to eat any of that and mixes in some safe home-cooked items every once in a while instead. 

The dog trots behind him happily, patiently waiting for him to fill her bowl. Jiang Cheng was thankful for her well-behaved nature even though she was initially introduced by the shelter as an overly-energetic dog good for 'outdoor' activities he figured Cala had long since outgrown that playful puppy-like attitude. 

There's not much he has on his mental to do list after that except the usual work and maybe some groceries if he has enough motivation to. Jiang Cheng's life wasn't awfully too productive, he had to admit, and it's mostly because he's frequently tired at the end of the day, face to face with his computer and multiple windows of Photoshop that he prays to all the gods above will not crash. 

It's noon when he receives something mildly interesting on his phone, the sweetest text from his sister, Yanli, asking him to pick up her son Jin Ling from the kindergarten a few blocks away because something came up in the cafe she was managing. Times like these Jiang Cheng felt like a student excused from class with a reason to skip lectures. It was hardly anything exciting, but after nearly eleven hours staring at the screen, anything was. 

Jin Ling's dismissal was at 2 , and just his luck that one of his co-workers had to ring him up for an important call that Jiang Cheng had to bullshit his way through because he was now fifteen minutes late and as a kid their perspective on time was extremely different from adults. He was just thankful Jin Ling wasn't so much of a crybaby. 

It's easier to walk to the Oranges and Apples Kindergarten than to start his car. It also helped save on the fuel. By the time 2:15 strikes, Jiang Cheng finds himself running down the sidewalk fearing for his sister's wrath if he proves he was any more incompetent as an uncle. 

Once he reaches the place, he notices its painfully bright colors at the very least tastefully decorated in a way that kids would enjoy. The walls were painted with numbers and other basic words they could roam around their eyes on. Despite its playful energy, Jiang Cheng notices there are but a few people left, most already gone home. Once he asks for the direction of Jin Ling's classroom, he is pointed to the right side of the hallway and Jiang Cheng counts the numbers before he reaches room 8-A, the area wide with polished wooden floors and rainbow cabinets. The windows open to let the sunlight in. 

Jiang Cheng peeks inside the door to find his nephew but gets taken aback by the sigh in front of him. 

There's about six people in the classroom, three adults and three kids. The other two were obviously parents with their kids clinging on to them, conversing with the other adult who wore a gentle smile, patiently answering their questions, things like 'What if my child is allergic to the food preparations?' and such which Jiang Cheng considers rather stupid since schools technically did collect information on that beforehand and it's nearly the middle of the school year.

Nevertheless the man keeps his poise and speaks genuinely as possible, with the slightest bit of shade that Jiang Cheng catches on. He had a way with his words, never too direct or too vague, and careful around the children too. He has his hand around Jin Ling's who looked pretty fascinated at whatever the man in question was saying. 

Needless to say, Jiang Cheng somewhat understands. He'd be pretty fascinated too, except that the man was indeed Lan Xichen and he could just tell from the hairs on his arm that this was going to be a very, very awkward experience. 

Once the other parents start to leave, Jiang Cheng takes his chance to come inside, trying so hard to look casual although he was pretty sure he was stiff as hell, he could practically hear his bones creaking. Xichen turns to notice him soon enough, eyes still a bit dreamy and glossy from his soft demeanor towards the kids. 

Years of experience has softened you . Jiang Cheng notes, taking in the bittersweet taste on his tongue that he could not explain. Lan Xichen had always been the epitome of an ideal gentleman, sharp features and a classy aura. He spoke very articulately but never condescending. Just one look and you could tell he belonged to the highest of society's class, not in some tacky, rainbow-splattered teddy-bear patterned classroom. But oddly enough it fits, and it stings like an open wound on Jiang Cheng for reasons unknown. His speech has gotten softer and his eyes calmer, the oversized coffee-brown sweater fits him perfectly— but it was just so incredibly foreign. 

"Jiang Cheng?" Xichen's voice is enough to pull him away from his thoughts.

Jiang Cheng realizes he hasn't been paying attention and Jin Ling has already tackled his leg, hugging it tightly. "Ah yes, sorry, what did you say?" He flushes red from embarrassment. 

"You're Jin Ling's uncle?" 

"Uh yeah. Did my sister not tell you?" 

"She only spoke of an 'uncle' I wasn't sure who it was." Xichen raises the text message on his phone. "I didn't expect it was you."

Well, I didn't expect you to be my nephew's teacher but here we are. 

"Do you mind if I send her a message to confirm? Sorry, it's just the place's rules." 

"No, go ahead." Jiang Cheng waves before turning his attention to Jin Ling. 

"Uncle, are you going to take me home?" He asks curiously and Jiang Cheng pats his head.

"Not quite," He answers. "Your mother asked to bring you to my home and we'll eat dinner first. She's going to pick you up after." 

Jin Ling's smile brightens and it almost makes him melt on the spot. "Is Cala there? Can I play with her?" 

Jiang Cheng smiles at the younger's enthusiasm. "Of course. But we're going to have to walk back home." 

"If you'd like, since we're heading to the same place, I could give you two a ride." Xichen offers, after witnessing the exchange. Yanli had already replied to the text and he was pretty much permitted to let them go home. 

The other's face twists into that of embarrassment. "Xichen, you don't have to—"

"It's fine." He reassures. "I can leave at this time now. I'll just have to pick up my things from the office and we can go. Please feel free to wait here." Xichen leaves him with no choice after and walks off to the faculty leaving both him and Jin Ling. 

Part of him wants to think Xichen's kindness was part of a scheme to shame him but he decides against it. He was always like this anyway. Too kind for his own good as if he had enough strength to take being hurt. 

"Uncle, you know Teacher Lan?!"

Jiang Cheng freezes. "Sort of." He says. "He's my neighbor." 

Jin Ling looks way too surprised over the fact. "Then do you talk a lot? I play a lot with my neighbor, he has a lot of cool toys! It must be nice being neighbors with Teacher Lan, did you know he read us a story about a Lotus and a tiger?" 

Jiang Cheng raises an eyebrow, what stories did they teach kids nowadays? He couldn't even remember. 

"Well that's just something I made up..." He hears Xichen from behind, leaning against the doorframe looking so soft and sexy at the same time (was that even possible?!) Jiang Cheng wanted to punch a wall. 

"Right? He's so cool! He makes his own stories!" Jin Ling doesn't seem fazed at all and Jiang Cheng just grimaces. 

"Right, that is amazing." He agrees half-heartedly, currently in the middle of another mental crisis. 

"I'm glad you think so, Jin Ling." Xichen smiles, looking much more radiant. "Well then, if you two are all set, we can head inside the car. It's just outside."

Jin Ling was just good enough of a distraction from the awkward silence that would have befell on them if he didn't speak a lot. They climb up in his car quickly, putting on their seat belts as Xichen encourages the kid to tell Jiang Cheng more about his day. 

"Uncle, we did monokoma- monoma—"

"Monochromatic," Xichen supplies. 

"-Monokomatic paintings during break! I have a partner named Jingyi and he wanted to use blue but I wanted to use yellow but he told me yellow was an ugly color." 

Jiang Cheng raises his eyebrow in amusement. If he remembered correctly, Jingyi was the kid Xichen was with when they met again. "Then, what did you tell him, Jin Ling?" 

"I told him he was stupid." 

Jiang Cheng almost bursts out in laughter if not for the fact that he was the adult here and he had to reprimand the child for such words. But Xichen seems to have the same problem, slightly shaking and trying to contain his laughter before they both burst out into a comfortable mess of amusement. 

"Jin Ling, you're not supposed to say that." He tells him after regaining his breath. "Even if he says it's ugly. You musn't be mean either." 

Jin Ling huffs. "But he started it first!" 

Xichen intervenes. "Jin Ling and Jingyi don't always get along together but somehow refuse to be apart." He explains. "I partnered them up to see how they get along." 

"And? Who won the color contest?" 

Xichen shakes his head. "I mixed the two colors to get green so they'd get both colors and they miraculously got along." 

Simple. Xichen made hard things look so simple to solve. 

"I guess whatever works." Jiang Cheng replies. 

They reach the building in no later than five minutes, both filled with mindless chatter and Jiang Cheng slowly warms up to the idea of remaining like this, blissfully ignorant of the past. Somehow he manages to convince himself that playing pretend could work. 

Somewhere along the way Jin Ling requests for chicken nuggets followed by a nod from Jiang Cheng as they get down from the car, thanking Xichen for the ride. 

"Oh and uncle, did you know that one of my classmates got stung by a bee?" Jin Ling exclaims as they walk through the hallway. "If I got stung by a bee, would I become bee man?" 

Xichen coughs. "The kid had no allergic reactions, he was sent to the clinic quickly and got treatment for the swelling." 

"But teacher Lan, will he not become beeman?"

"Bee...man?"

"Kind of like the concept of spiderman." Jiang Cheng interjects. "Jin Ling, we talked about this..." 

"You talked about beeman?" There's a hint of a smile in Xichen's lips. 

"That came after the Bee Movie." He explains. 

"Alright, I see." Xichen nods as if he understood. 

They both reach their respective rooms soon enough and bid each other a polite farewell before closing the door. It's barely been an hour since he fetched Jin Ling and he feels like it's been a whole day. Cala greets them much to Jin Ling's enthusiasm and Jiang Cheng leaves him occupied with Cala for a little while before informing his sister that Jin Ling was already home with him. They'd also do a quick shop to the grocery across the building for some chicken nuggets. 

Dinner comes soon enough and it's six p.m once Jiang Cheng sets up to prepare dinner. Jin Ling is sitting by the couch with his tablet on, playing a show with some repetitive tunes. He decided on chicken nuggets, a side of vegetables, rice and some soup. Nothing too complicated.

He's just about to grab the bottle of oil before his nose catches a whiff of burnt food. He checks his surroundings first, surely it can't be him as he hasn't even turned on the stove. Nothing else was left in the electrical sockets but his computer plugged in and even that looked fine. 

"Jin Ling, cover your nose." He instructs first before he sets off to find the cause of the smell. 

Once he's reached the bedroom door, he begins to hear a beeping noise from outside and he quickly checks the hallway, following the noise all the way to Xichen's door. 

Smoke alarm? Jiang Cheng questions. What could have happened? 

He gets his answers soon enough once Xichen's door opens and more of the burnt food reaches his nose. 

"Jiang Cheng!" He looks genuinely surprised. "Did I disturb you? Sorry. I was cooking.." He gazes over to the blackened piece of meat (was that meat?) and smiles sheepishly. "Well at least tried to cook." 

Six years and that certain aspect hasn't changed. It's like Xichen was doomed to have one flaw and that was not being able to cook. 

"Yeah I checked outside. I thought the burning was coming from mine." He explains. 

"Sorry. It's fine now, I'll just go out or order."

"Do you want to eat with us?" The question leaves his mouth too suddenly and Jiang Cheng cringes. You idiot. Jiang Cheng, why did you have to go and say that?! You aren't even friends and all you have right now are kid's chicken nuggets. "I mean it's just an offer." He shrugs. "If you don't mind a kid's menu I suppose." 

Xichen seems to consider and Jiang Cheng clenches his fist, knowing full well he'd refuse but he doesn't and instead nods, looking at him with eyes so bright it was like it held galaxies. 

"If it's not too much trouble." 

Well, I give myself trouble all the time . Jiang Cheng thinks, letting Xichen lock his door and lead him to his. "You can just wait in the living room and I'll prepare things." 

"I can he—" The thought dies on Xichen's lips, remembering the piece of coal he just managed to cook up. "Thanks." He says instead. 

Jin Ling notices his teacher come in and immediately looks away from the screen. "Teacher Lan!" He says cheerfully. "Why are you here?"

"He'll be joining us for dinner, Jin Ling." 

The kid almost combusts into excitement and Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes lightly before heading back to the kitchen to prepare. 

Xichen does a fairly good job at entertaining not only Jin Ling but Cala who warmed up to him immediately and rested by his feet. Jiang Cheng almost felt offended and betrayed. 

He chops the carrots into thin pieces and heats up some leftovers from yesterday. Tofu in soy sauce.

Needless to say he was a bit distracted by the fact that Lan Xichen was still in his house just when he swore he wouldn't speak to the man unless he was dying. He could almost hear Huaisang and Wei Wuxian's snickers. 

"Ow!" He exclaims, being reeled back into reality as he accidentally slices a bit too close to his finger, already beginning to see the thin line of blood blooming from the cut. 

That's what you get for being distracted, Jiang Cheng.

Xichen comes into the kitchen after, checking up on Jiang Cheng. "Are you okay sweetheart? I heard something so I—" 

"It's nothing. Just a small cut, I was carel—"  Jiang Cheng spoke too quickly before he could register the entirety of Xichen's words and his eyes widen as his face begins to heat up, heart pounding like crazy. 

Sweetheart? Was he imagining things? Has he finally lost it and somehow reverted to sixteen year-old Jiang Cheng awakened to the impossibly idealistic stories of romance? 

There's no follow up from Xichen once the words leave his mouth and Jiang Cheng could only stare and wait for answers. 

Xichen comes to realize it too, soon after and he waves his hands in the air frantically. "No!" He says it a bit louder than intended. "I sorry— this uh—" Xichen's beginning to think he has apologized more than a hundred times ever since coming upon Jiang Cheng. "It's a habit." He finally finds the right words to say. "When kids get hurt, it's usually a cushion word to let them know that I'm there. So it was kind of an automatic response. Sorry." 

Jiang Cheng's tight chest begins to loosen as he listens to the explanation letting himself breathe deeply, slightly annoyed at how affected he was. "It's okay." Is all he has to say. The words are hard to breathe out. 

"Then should I..." Xichen glances to the side. "I'll get you some bandages. Can you tell me where they are?"

Jiang Cheng wants to say no, that he can take care of this by himself but his legs were too weak to move. "It's under the cabinet of the bathroom sink. It's in a transparent container." He says and Xichen nods. 

He comes back soon, with Jin Ling on his trail and Jiang Cheng is about to take a bandage when Xichen's hands move toward the container first and takes one. He figures it's always been in Xichen's nature, it was automatic. How he'd care for others with no question, deeply ingrained in his blood. 

And so for a moment Jiang Cheng is left fascinated and bewildered. His ears begin to ring from the lack of noise around them and Xichen takes his hand in his, dabbing the disinfectant on the wound, humming quietly to soothe him as if he were a child. 

That was exactly the thing Jiang Cheng had a problem with. Being treated like a child. Proud, ambitious, and independent Jiang Cheng who wanted to prove everyone wrong. Xichen's warm touch harmed his pride. It was so warm that it set everything on fire. But now he's cried enough, somewhere inside his heart he realizes he's just tired and he lets him hum a soothing song, pretending like it's the wound in his heart that he's patching up even if he knows he's the one at fault.

It ends too quickly like the tide washing over the shore. With Jin Ling's voice front and center. "Teacher Lan, you should kiss it to make it better!" 

The teacher almost chokes on the spot. "K-kiss what, Jin Ling?" 

Jiang Cheng tenses up again and takes his hand away, coughing. 

"Mom always said wounds heal faster with a kiss..." 

He looks to Xichen for some help with damage control. "Well your uncle is all grown up now so he doesn't need one!" Xichen laughs nervously. 

The next question hits unexpectedly hard and Jiang Cheng curses kids' innocent but harsh perspectives. "So grown-ups don't need help anymore?" 

"I wonder..." Jiang Cheng mumbles and Xichen shoots him a look. 

"Of course they do." He tries to reassure. "It's just a small wound so your uncle can handle it by himself." 

But Jin Ling was not an easy kid, not if he inherited his father's stubbornness and the Jiang's skepticism. He folds his arms and raises an eyebrow, mouth curved into a pout. A spitting image of Jin Zixuan. "But even my mom does that to dad. It could help." 

A few seconds pass and Jiang Cheng couldn't read Xichen's expression with his back turned to him, but he sees him sigh deeply and hang his head low before turning to face him and Jiang Cheng tries to lean further away on impulse, feeling the cold marble of the counter on his back. 

'Sorry.' Xichen mouths before taking his hand and Jiang Cheng follows the movement with his eyes, unable to speak. His skin tingles as Xichen's lips inch closer to his fingers and feels the warm breath, pressing a kiss so soft he almost thought he'd just imagined it. 

Jiang Cheng almost breaks, for the first time his heart is running faster than his mind, the calculations all messed up and it's frustrating how he can't read him at all right now. 

What do you think of me?

Do you remember what I did to you? 

Why are you so nice to me?

Was I the only one who thought we had something special?

I shouldn't have invited you here. This is getting worse for me. 

And though Xichen's almost slate-grey eyes shine like crystals against the white kitchen lights, Jiang Cheng finds no reflection. A sealed off faraway look that tells him nothing. Strange, Xichen was never too hard to decipher before. He pulls his hand away too quickly, pulling it close to his chest and Xichen tears his gaze away, taking interest in the floor. Jiang Cheng is the first to break the silence, taking the utensils back and set on finishing the chopped vegetables. 

He knows it'll be later in the night when he's supposed to fall asleep that his mind is going to involuntarily reel back in this memory like hitting a replay button and torture him with even more questions he doesn't have answers too. And somehow he knows the system he's built for himself was slowly being overwritten and it's making him malfunction by the urge to keep on looking back at him setting the table with Jin Ling in this overly-domestic almost superficial and idealistic vision of a family he once longed to have. 

They sit down for dinner soon enough, the three chairs around the dinner table finally serving some sort of purpose. They dig in at the few dishes and bowls of rice. Crispy golden chicken nuggets, soft tofu in rich sauce and fragrant steaming broth that matched the other dishes perfectly. 

Xichen's still wearing that knitted dark brown sweater that hung loosely around him.

"Brown suits you." Jiang cheng catches himself saying. 

Wow, Jesus Christ, Jiang Cheng. Ever-so-technical Jiang Cheng who knows how to duck and hold before he gets hurt—and this is what you come up with for conversation? 

 "Well, thank you, I suppose. It's the only color that isn't too boring like black but still rather practical." Xichen puts down his glass of water. "I've discovered white and blue aren't too suitable to wear when you're working with kids who like to break crayons and mash them into 'powder' for pretend cooking." 

A smile comes up on Jiang Cheng's lips. "I thought crayons were washable these days?" 

He frowns. "It's a lie, I'm telling you." 

"Maybe you aren't too good with laundry?"

"Jiang Cheng..." Xichen whines and it evokes laughter from the other. 

"Trust me. Xichen." He wipes away the tears in his eyes. "It's not the easiest but it's not that hard either. Maybe I'll show you some time." 

He tries to hide the flicker of astonishment that flashes in his eyes at Jiang Cheng's hint of a next time and nods, keeping the small promise inside his heart. 

They finish dinner in less than an hour and Xichen leaves after a polite thank you. At around 7pm his sister arrives by the door and greets Jiang Cheng with a smile. Jin Ling is quick to run up in her arms and rattle off stories from his day. 

"The room's not fully furnished yet." Jiang Cheng says sheepishly at his barren place. "I didn't have much time." 

"It's alright," She explains before pointing her head toward the table. "I see you've had dinner already?" 

Jiang Cheng eyes the evidence of three people from the position of the plates and a soft blush begins to creep up on his face. 

"We had dinner with Mr. Lan!" 

"Oh," Yanli's expression is initially mild, still not processing whoever this 'Lan' person was. Eventually, the gears start turning and she puts a hand up to her lips. "Oh." She says with much more conviction and Jiang Cheng sighs, knowing full well he could not escape this one. "Teacher Lan, A-Cheng yo—" 

"We're neighbors." He says. "I just found out a few weeks ago." 

"And.."  A grin rises from her lips. The thing most people wouldn't assume was that Yanli was an angel who would only speak when appropriate but none of them knew this side of her that was playful and teasing. Jiang Cheng could already see the formulas in her head trying to piece together the evidence with what little information she has. 

"The idiot burnt his food, is all. He offered to drive us home, it was only fair, I guess."

"Fair." She states. "Alright, as you say, A-Cheng." 

"Jiejie.." Jiang Cheng whines, "Believe me." 

"Did he...did he not ask you?" 

"No."

Yanli's eyes turn to that of serious worry. "Will you tell him?"

"It' not...we don't need it anymore." He resigns softly. 

"And what if one day he does ask you why you left him, what will you say, A-Cheng?" 

Jiang Cheng doesn't answer but Yanli doesn't expect him to. All she wanted was for him to think and finally decide. Truth be told she's rather lax on her words, but she also knows when it doesn't help. And in Jiang Cheng's attempt to run away, even Yanli felt his exhaustion. 

"A-Cheng you are not afraid of being yourself but you are afraid of everything else. And thus when that happens no one truly gets to understand who you are. Your goal is to show father how capable you are and yet here you are, living your own life yet the image of him still haunts you. Maybe it's time you let someone help you not because you need it but because we can't always be alone." She leaves him time to absorb her words, gently petting his head like she did years ago. She glances at her watch swiftly and smiles, taking Jin Ling's hand. "I have to go back now. Thank you for picking Jin Ling up. Contact me when you plan to decorate, I want to give input!" She chuckles. 

Jiang Cheng watches her quietly, subdued from her advice and waves them a goodbye, only now feeling the coldness of the air conditioner that somehow came to a temperature lower than usual. 

At some point in time when he's getting ready for bed, the smell of burnt cooking still lingers in his nose paired with the classic, minty scent and torments his dreams as the night comes down.

-

Saturdays were an excuse to be productive and enthusiastic over non-work related activities because anything else celebrated from Monday-Friday felt like a sin and Jiang Cheng finds that working on Sundays only leaves him with many regrets as soon as Monday rolls around and he wishes he could turn back time to sleep a bit longer. 

His phone is once again flooded with numerous pings from the group chat asking about Xichen (who he's seen and casually greeted a few times since that dinner incident) and also talk about the upcoming party to which everyone was invited (and by everyone he literally means Huaisang, Wei Wuxian, Zixuan, and even Lan Xichen.) because his world was so unbelievably small that they all happened to study in the same university and through a spider web of connections (mainly being Wei Wuxian) they've all ended up as old friends. 

He doesn't even bother to answer whether or not he planned to come because he was sure that one way or another Wei Wuxian would show up in front of his house with a car waiting outside. And if he didn't have anything to wear, well, Huaisang probably would have already brought it. 

Today's agenda though is furnishing his barren flat so he wouldn't look as much of a loser as he already was. The boxes of DIY furniture had already arrived by morning, a cabinet, a drawer, and a new bed frame (because the current one was shit and it hurt his back) and even a new vase to add some flowers. Just his luck though that the delivery deliberately ignored his request to bring it up to the second floor and now Jiang Cheng's standing by a pile of boxes already decided that this was today's morning workout. 

He's halfway through the boxes, bringing each up one by one and managing to slip it inside his door and around the fifth box with his sweat starting to drip and his knees weakening, he realizes the jib is harder than he thought. Maybe he should have worked out a bit more last week. 

Jiang Cheng's figure was nothing to scoff at, a slim toned body with amazing legs (as they say) and a godsent waist molded by the hands of God himself. (Now this was of course courtesy of his friends but he'd like to think it boosted his ego a little.) but it's about time he'd call for someone so he could get this done hopefully before afternoon. 

"Do you need help carrying those boxes?" Is the first thing he hears when he takes out his phone and he turns his head around the stairs to reveal a beaming Xichen, magically popping out of the blue like an angel in disguise. He's wearing a light blue shirt and a dark grey jacket that just clings to his arms and it's obviously just some casual attire but it knocks Jiang Cheng's breath away. 

Xichen doesn't spare enough time for him to answer before he readily rolls up his sleeves revealing the toned, muscular forearms (curse Jiang Cheng's hopeless gay heart, really.) and reaches for one as Jiang Cheng stares, trying to suppress his inner turmoil. 

There really was something about Xichen who basically appeared every time someone needed help, kind of like a sixth sense— and he never questions it, there's just way too much space in his heart to give. Some might call him unlucky for running into trouble that doesn't involve him but Jiang Cheng thinks it's because he's just so incredibly lucky that it'd rain if someone tried to set him on fire. 

On one instance, he recalls him late for a class because he had tried to save someone from a burning building (to which Xichen waved off as if it were an everyday occurrence.) Next was accidentally running into a bullying case after class hours and he was just in the nick of time to call authorities and fend off the assholes. Sometimes he helps carry groceries, stops to help old ladies park their car, and catches cats being stuck on trees. 

In fact, the very first time he and Xichen met was by a cafe in the university and a robbery case when one student got her bag snatched and they both ran after the thief, unknowingly crashing right at each other at the same time. From then on, Xichen had felt guilty and offered to bring him to the clinic even if he insisted that he could walk just fine and everything began to spiral down from there. 

Point is, it was a miracle how Xichen was never too tired for anything, the way he threw himself in every situation Jiang Cheng just wanted to ask: 'Is it not draining having to deal with seeing so much shit going on? Does it not make you lose hope in humanity or something? Because sometimes you try, and the biggest downfall of motivation was realizing you couldn't help them all. 

Gently sighing, he picks one box up and follows Xichen, thinking it'd be much more foolish if he were to refuse. 

Once they both arrive at the door, Cala rushes in enthusiastically, barking at the entrance and running around in circles at Xichen's feet. Jiang Cheng watches in despair and maybe a bit of jealousy as his dog, his own child that he raised and painstakingly trained showed more affection toward this man she's just met a few weeks ago than to him, who's practically been there all her life. 

Now this was true betrayal. 

Xichen gently puts down the last of the boxes on the floor and bends down to pet her, earning a few licks each time. The more Jiang Cheng started, the more he realizes they sort of look alike, in a cute sense. Xichen was sort of like a big fluffy samoyed. 

"She likes you a lot." He states, not at all hurt at how his child betrayed him like this. 

"Does she?" Xichen says, cupping Cala's face. "I thought she was like this with everyone." 

"She's a bit shy around others." And shameless with you . He almost wants to add as Cala already turns over, asking for belly rubs. 

"That's nice, I like Cala very much too." He chuckles, still in between petting her. "By the way, I can also stay for a while if you're going to set these all up. I mean, if you want to, that is. I'm just— just in case, you know?" 

He already owes him too much at this point. "No need," He says. "You probably had plans today." 

"Not really. I was just going to the grocery to buy ingredients for lunch." Jiang Cheng raises an eyebrow at him. "Lunch that I'm not going to burn, yes. I swear. I watched a tutorial this time." 

He sighs, not wanting the alarm to blast off his ears again. "I'll cook something later, maybe watch and I'll teach you. Alright? Think of this as a thank you for helping me." 

There's a look in Xichen's eyes that gleams in fascination and shock, almost as if he never expected anything in return. But even as Jiang Cheng tries to grasp it, there's still a foggy layer of white that makes him harder to read. 

"Then I guess I'll stay to help you set this up?" 

"What? You don't have to." 

"What if I want to?" 

"Part of me thinks Cala's just enchanted you or something." He says skeptically at Xichen's figure, still petting the dog. 

"Maybe that too." 

He rolls his eyes. "Fine, do as you wish." 

The amount of time it takes for them to set up the furniture takes longer than it should with mainly the bed frame at fault for its more than confusing instructions. But Jiang Cheng's natural talent for building makes up for it. 

It's currently past 2 and the chaotic impromptu cooking lesson has just finished with Xichen hopefully learning a thing or two about checking whether food was burnt or not. 

Constant carrying, measuring, and pounding hammers has taken a lot of their energy and Jiang Cheng finds the both of them settling into a calm, quiet atmosphere. Xichen especially has become more somber and muted after a while and he has half a mind to ask him what was wrong if it weren't for the possibility of awkwardness. Neighbors didn't need to pry into personal matters. 

And besides, Jiang Cheng knew how Xichen was when he didn't feel well. The more you asked, the more he caved in, and he'd rather shut himself from the world for a few days and return as if nothing happened. He's grown accustomed to picking him apart, and after all these years, the skill comes back to him naturally molding itself in the sharpness of his eyes. The way his clothes crumple down, how his hair loosely scatter, and his foggy, unfocused eyes. He recognized this as surrender to whatever he had been hiding before, it's a shame now that he hadn't noticed it a while ago. But it's become obvious that Xichen's current state of exhaustion was too much that he didn't care to hide it anymore. 

In this silence, Jiang Cheng would have wanted to wait for a reply, that downcast look and short cut off sentences like he was debating whether or not what he was saying was important. He knows how Xichen talked when he was sad. But even then, he was so much better at talking than Jiang Cheng who relied on volume and absolute, closed sentences to get his thought across. 

His hands nervously fiddle with the hem of his shirt, looking at Cala who had sensed Xichen's sadness first and was now cuddling up to his legs, providing comfort. His legs find its way to the kitchen pouring  the both of them a glass of cold juice and walking back to the living room, pressing the glass against Xichen's cheek. 

"Thank you." He looks up to him, accepting the glass with a small smile that rises like an ocean wave but falters just as soon in a blink of an eye. If there was something Jiang  Cheng couldn't decipher with Xichen, it's the fact that he was only ever one thing and his eyes often betrayed him, emotion sparking up unfiltered and raw and for the longest time Jiang Cheng thinks it's because he was so open, vulnerable, and pure, that a stain or a single speck of dust reflected so easily on his face. This was in contrast to him who's look rarely matched his words. It was like insurance, basically. If what he said didn't sound as right, it'd be easy to play off. Jiang Cheng tiptoed his way through people's opinions more than he thought. 

It's evident now that what Xichen was looking for was a way to distract himself, and by doing so he panics, struggles internally and becomes even more open but Jiang Cheng is more than willing to distract him. "Do you...do you want to watch a movie?" At this time, they're sitting right beside each other, the distance of a few inches reminding them of what they are. Close, Jiang Cheng thinks. They’re close, but not as friends. Close, but not as neighbors. There is no one else in the world who knows as much as he does when it comes to Lan Xichen, and yet this type of closeness…Jiang Cheng didn’t know what to make of it. 

"Mn. Do you have any Marvel ones?" Xichen speaks, finally shifting into a much more comfortable position as they both accidentally reach out for the remote at the same time. 

Other people don't realize when the palm of the other's hand is rougher than usual, they don't notice the slightest change of tone in one's voice, and don't have this intense urge to keep the other close and tell them ' I'm sorry. Please come back to me.' 

And for this moment, intoxicated by the closeness and warmth, Jiang Cheng starts to wonder if by the tiniest shift of the microcosms that made up their universe, they've managed to find and pick up what’s left of their hearts.

-

Humans, as Jiang Cheng has come to notice, tend to fall in love with images more so than actual content. And there's a reason why he's currently standing in an open field blinded by a million-dollar lights and sound set with his car parked in between a variety of sports and luxury cars deliberately polished for no other purpose than to show-off. 

The Unofficial Annual Alumni party was an event that happened every September usually hosted by the old student body and a number of now-professionals looking for a place to dump their money and see their name on some big shiny screen. Technically, they're not all strictly alumni, rather, a group of friends of friends of friends that studied in the same university, within a slightly close span of years. 

Not everyone present belonged to the top 1% however, brought about by fame, and natural sense of superiority (because in this world money made you on top of the hierarchy) most of the names that would ring a bell were from highly successful students that may or may not have questionably brought themselves to the top because Jiang Cheng was pretty sure that man decked out in a limited-edition Gucci ensemble was most definitely asleep in one of his computer classes. 

Jiang Cheng's case is a bit different, however. What of his surname being tossed around coming from parents who were notable alumni of the university from another generation and constantly sponsored many of the place's activities. So although Jiang Cheng lived his life normally with a life as a well-paid web developer for himself, the whispers constantly remind him that this 'Jiang' surname is not one he can get rid off so easily and he cringes inside every time he hears of it. 

Despite this, he's still very much dressed for the occasion with clothes featuring expensive brand names because he's sure both Wei Wuxian and Nie Huaisang would have thrown a fit if he didn't 'dress to impress' or whatever that was. 

There's an indoor and outdoor area, both with tables laden full of drinks and assorted snacks. Wei Wuxian is the first to pick one from the table, raising a bright red liquid to his lips before his face turns sour. "Ew, cherries." He spits out. 

"Then why'd you choose that, dumbass?" 

"I don't know, maybe the possibility of it being STRAWBERRY flavored?" He retorts. 

"Or maybe the blood of that kid who borrowed my scientific calculator and never gave it back on an important exam..."

"Huaisang, that's dark." Wei Wuxian frowns, sneakily putting the half-consumed drink on the table. "Anyways, I saw Wen Ning a while back heading inside and as for the others well, I barely recognize them at this point." 

"Honestly," Huaisang pipes up, artistically clothed in a long, asymmetrical, bronze coat. "some of them are really unexpected.." His eyes trail off to the side, before abruptly pausing at someone. "Hey, Wei Wuxian, isn't that the guy who puts the cereal in a blender with milk and chugs it for breakfast?" 

At this Jiang Cheng is immediately dumbfounded, but Wei Wuxian merely raises his eyebrows. "Heh. Oh yeah." He snorts. 

"And you know this, why?" Jiang Cheng finally speaks up, rather concerned. 

"Oh," Wei Wuxian waves his hands. "It was an old house party. Like in those movies? We stayed the night, and when we woke up he was doing that and we somehow, collectively decided it was the coolest thing ever. Now look, he's a doctor, that guy." 

His interest fades quickly after that, roaming his eyes around the number of people gathered outside. From the corner of his eye he spots a neatly-dressed Xichen, comfortably in conversation with a small group consisting of Jin Guangyao, Nie Mingjue, and a few girls he didn't recognize. The sight lightly pricks at his heart but he's quick to turn away and swallow a piece of food from the table. 

"Wangji's here." Huaisang points out to a man who looked like Xichen for the most part, if not for the aloof aura he gave out. Jiang Cheng hasn't talked to him very much, but he was always very much present as long as Wei Wuxian was around and it makes him wonder why he doesn't just step up and ask him. 

Easy for you to say, Jiang Cheng. 

Wei Wuxian perks up at the name, a slight jitter in his movements that he masks with his loud mouth. "Oh? He did come after all!" 

"He wasn't going to?" Asks Huaisang. 

"He told me he was busy." 

"So you two were texting?"

He laughs nervously, scratching his head. "Well we are friends, you know. Friends have to be updated, right?" 

Jiang Cheng cringes at how evident it is that he wasn't fooling anyone but Huaisang makes the move instead. "And you didn't update us, you snake." 

He didn’t want to say but he’s been the only one meeting Wangi's eyes for the past few minutes, a quick on and off flicker that would look at Wei Wuxian and turn away once Jiang Cheng caught it. "Just go," He pushes his friend toward his direction. "He's been boring holes in you in the past five minutes." 

Huaisang chuckles and also takes his cue to leave after, something about meeting a friend inside and Jiang Cheng really wasn’t up for anything else so he lets him go ahead first. 

“This is your K-drama now, Jiang Cheng. Shit always goes down in parties. But don’t go too far, I have money on the line. You’re stronger than this, I think.” He whispers to him before making his way inside, leaving him by the table.

Once alone, Jiang Cheng started to feel that odd phenomenon where he slowly gets pulled into some sort of infinite present where time slips past his eyes and he won’t remember anything until six years later and he’s made some dumb promise in the midst of alcohol, music, and colourful spotlights. He’s gone deaf. More of the fact that he doesn’t quite understand anything being said to him, the lights overhead flickering so brightly and he was sweating under his impractical clothing but he doesn’t close his eyes, doesn’t falter and just responds vaguely hoping that he wasn’t making a fool of himself. 

It’s odd how he feels out of place in a world that welcomed him. In a place that his father had carved and told him to fit through. But maybe that was it, the underlying presence that unnerved him. The fact that his very image was carved by his bastard of a father and now he’s forced to grow into it, speak as if he was his son and act as if he was just as good. Because somehow, he’s just as tall, just as successful, and just as famous that he’s attracting as much attention as Xichen was from the other side except he didn’t know how to handle it just as well. He felt scrutinized and inspected, their eyes waiting for one move until he fucks it all up. 

It’s a far cry from Xichen who practically commanded their curiosity by his own right, by his own name. It’s Lan Xichen, the one who's always there, unlike him whose existence could be defined just by the surname Jiang.  He just had this gentle confidence that placated everyone. He’s seen him wield this charm around children and knows why he’s so good at it, how he's able to make sense of the most ridiculous arguments. But it’s another to see him under the light of professionals, it’s fatal and effortless. 

“Jiang Cheng, is that you?” A voice reaches him first before he can think, a hand flicking at the back of his shoulder, calling for his attention. 

Jiang Cheng turns swiftly, taking in the sight of a woman a few inches shorter than him, but with a proud presence complimented by the deep red of her dress. “Wen Qing,” He replies. 

“So, you came too, huh.” Her voice is as strong as ever and Jiang Cheng wonders why he hasn’t been able to contact her much. She was good at things that needed to be faced, everything under her curious eye. 

“I would have been kidnapped by Wei Wuxian if I hadn’t.” 

She laughs, and it brings him back to his days of studying. Wen Qing had become a role model for him, and he remembered every time how much she was like his sister in that aspect, how she had the atmosphere that felt like she could handle anything. “How are you? You know it’s a miracle I ever got to attend tonight.” She points at the faint dark bags under her eyes, skillfully hidden by the concealer. “Night shift at the hospital is hell.” 

That’s right. He recalls. Wen Qing had always been so dedicated to studying that he didn’t want to disturb her, and now he almost envies how perfectly cut-out her image is. How she’s Wen Qing. How much she exists in the present. How real she is. Not some made-up expectation or rumor. “All’s as good as it can be.’ Because there’s nothing else he expects anymore.

There’s a lilt in her voice as the curves of her mouth twitch upward in its characteristic, amused look. A glass of wine swirls in her hands like a tiny galaxy that spoke of its own world. “I’m assuming you came with someone? That’s not Wei Wuxian, of course.”

“Wish I had the time.”

Wen Qing looks almost offended. “You're Jiang Cheng.” (“ and that's exactly why,” he wants to say.) ’And you're almost forty, come on.” 

If only it were some kind of magical phenomenon that you’d be able to find someone before the supposed ’old bachelor’ age. “I’m thirty-three." He corrects sternly. ” And you’re five years closer to forty than I am, lady.” 

“But,” She flicks his forehead. “You’re living like you are forty. And also, when did you learn to talk back to me huh? I’d say you’re closer to death.” She huffs before looking over to his shoulder. “Anyways, I have to go and check the lights crew if something’s missing. You know how pushy our president can be. See you later!” Leaving him with that, Wen Qing quickly runs off, and he just has enough time to wave before the crimson of her dress disappears into the crowd.

Wen Qing has been the only solid interaction he’s had throughout the night. Parties really weren’t Jiang Cheng's scene, but neither was staying alone at home. He figured things were better with less lights, and music. Somewhere where he could feel as if he was alive and in control of himself.

And he knows it’s a home that he's looking far, but you didn’t hear that from him. 

Somewhere in the midst of an old-fashioned pop tune and his third sandwich, he’s accepted he's going home alone just by the way Wangji was wrapping his arms around Wei Wuxian’s waist and how Huaisang was currently caught up in some kind of contest, neither one of them looking like they planned on going home until the next morning and Jiang Cheng kind of misses his bed. And Cala. But he’s still going around, occasionally greeting old friends and waiting until the clock strikes at 10 p.m. for the fireworks display. He's a sad loser that got ditched by his friends but he doesn’t really care, he can watch the fireworks alone, dammit. 

His plans take an immediate turn though, when Jin Guangyao comes running up from his line of vision, an extremely drunk, rose-red and giggly Xichen clinging loosely onto his arm, with eyes looking around in wonder. “Jiang Cheng,” The man calls, struggling at the sheer weight of the man. “I haven’t seen you since the last few months."

The last time they met was at Jin Ling’s birthday party. ”Mn, we hardly got to talk either.” He hates how he takes a moment to pause and think of how good they looked together.

“I know, the world is so small yet there’s so much noise.” He says wistfully. “And look at this,” he motions to Xichen, randomly pointing at various decorations followed by some noises of approval. “Drank more than he should have.” 

Jiang Cheng couldn’t honestly calculate the amount of alcohol he had consumed given his extremely low tolerance, so he estimated around two glasses’ worth. “I thought he didn’t drink as much.” 

Jin Guangyao sighs, leaning into his ear. “I know, but between you and me, he hasn’t been feeling the best lately and the next thing I knew, he’d already downed around three full glasses.” He looks at Xichen pitifully. “This might be a bit much to ask and you can refuse if you don’t want to but would it trouble you to take him home? He’s uh, he talks about you a lot. And he mentioned you two were neighbors?” 

Jiang Cheng raises his eyebrows in curiosity. “Talks about me?” 

He gives off an interesting reaction like a deer caught in the headlights before he looks away. “Only good things, I assure you. And he also likes your dog, it seems.” 

Well that’s certainly new. Jiang Cheng wonders what may have brought them into conversation. But Xichen’s life wasn’t incredibly too widespread and they pretty much saw each other every day. It wasn’t a big deal. “I guess it’s because we're neighbors.” 

“I believe it’s deeper than that.” He states, smiling coyly. “But, can you take him home?” 

There’s no more opportunity to respond and Jiang Cheng wants to say no, he wasn’t going to take care of a huge baby and bring him all the way home but a quick  ”Yes.” Leaves his mouth faster than he can think. 

“Great!” He's a bit too enthusiastic over the reply and quickly detaches the man from his arm, letting him stumble toward Jiang Cheng who raises both his hands in front of him to catch him at an appropriate distance. “I owe you one,” Jian Guangyao winks. “Now please excuse me, please enjoy the rest of the party.” 

Jin Guangyao had always been slightly cryptic and it kind of unnerved him but he hasn’t done any real harm except for the flames in Jiang Cheng’s heart now that Xichen was hanging onto him like a literal puppy with eyes bright and sparkling. 

“Jiang Cheng, you’re warm.” His smooth voice is now more of a light drawl and Jiang Cheng doesn’t realize he’s been holding the other's hand. 

I wonder why? “It’s hot here.” He waves off and tries to detach their hands but Xichen’s grip is tighter. 

“It is? I’m freezing.”

He huffs. “It’s because you’re only wearing a thin jacket, stupid. Now come on, let’s find a spot, there’s only fifteen minutes left before the fireworks and after that we’re going home.” 

“We have the same house?!”

Jiang Cheng feels like he’s talking to one of Xichen’s students instead of him.”The same building.” He patiently corrects, leading him toward a less populated place by a huge ivory fountain and marble steps. 

They settle comfortably, Xichen lightly tapping on the stone as Jiang Cheng melds into the silence. 

Jiang Cheng waits in the superfluous silence that envelops them, the noise so far away as if they were worlds apart. Xichen tries to smile, but it's the one the stretches too much, the one that pulled too far away until it snapped. 

It's Xichen's way of denial. His odd method of self-defense that forces itself to be something else until he shatters. 

"I run a class full of four-year-olds." 

Jiang Cheng remembers this look, like the time when he fell into a somber mood last week while helping him with the furniture. But instead, Xichen trembles, the first quiver from his lips and down to his whole body. 

He hasn't been this kind of drunk. He notes. But this was probably why he drank too much. This wasn't the happy accidentally intoxicated kind, nor the sad, emotional, and mopey drunk. It was the kind of drunk that begged to tell the truth, because Xichen's system has finally shut down and the sober version of himself would not have told this story otherwise. 

"They're four. Not five, not, six— or three." Unlike so many other alcohol-induced heart to heart talks, Xichen was able to hold his gaze and pin him down straight. "There's this sweetest little girl in the bunch, loves her family a lot. She and her little sister, along with her parents. She had the greatest artworks of her family during activities." 

Oh no. Jiang Cheng is all too familiar with the way this story is going. Xichen knew of this as well. Do I remind you of her? He wants to ask. Like a bunch of other poor kids that cannot brag about a ‘complete’ family, whatever that meant. 

"She liked a particular doll. She loved it as if it were her lifeline. Jiang Cheng, do you ever think how when we are so small, the most miniscule things become our whole worlds? Do you know how a cookie can flip a 4-year old's whole day around?" 

"I know." He replies softly, huddling his knees together. "I know." Maybe XIchen is not as whole as he thinks, perhaps he is just as mistaken. 

"Every morning both her parents drop her off at the front. Every afternoon he picks her up with a different woman that goes away before he enters our doors." It's regretful when he says it, like he should have done something. His voice is lined with seething anger and self-pity. Something Jiang Cheng rarely hears. "A few weeks after, her participation decreases and she refuses those romantic fairy tales with happy endings." 

Jiang Cheng waits, knowing he doesn’t have to speak. 

“I didn’t know, what could she have felt? Surely her mother must be deeply hurt too.” Xichen swallows. “I would have taken all the hurt if I could. Jiang Cheng— do you ever think—  as a teacher, there’s a part of me that wants to tell the kid that a lot of things are going to happen to her. That things aren’t straightforward, that she’ll be forced to choose between things she normally wouldn’t have to. Sometimes I want to tell the kids of how cruel life is— anything I can do if they’ll hurt less. But that’s wrong, and I can’t.” The glass in his eyes turns into liquid, slowly dripping from his cheeks and he doesn't even notice. 

It’s so close to Jiang Cheng’s heart, so familiar as if he were merely relieving a memory. He knows just how much it hurts. And the worst part is that the act itself isn’t really what hit hard, it isn’t the fact that he chose someone else, it isn't about how he leaves. It’s the fact that the person could have really cared less about you and sixteen-year-old Jiang Cheng filled with hopes and fairytales had to learn that he was never going to be the son he loves. 

“Xichen,” Jiang Cheng says, wiping at his tears. 

Do you always think like this? Have you always been hurting? 

Xichen shudders from the cold and leans into his touch. He looks so vulnerable and guilty and a part of Jiang Cheng begins to understand Xichen more, it’s only now he realizes how truly open his heart is, how much of it is molten gold. “It’s not your fault.” It’s molten gold in his hands and Jiang Cheng doesn’t know what to do. “Life will tell them those lessons. Your job is to make them strong; your job is to turn them into people who will never falter. Your job is to prevent them from becoming like her father.” 

It’s probably pointless, Xichen might not even remember this conversation tomorrow. But Jiang Cheng tries until his tears dry and his breathing turns into deep, relaxed ones and Jiang Cheng’s heart twists in both pain and guilt. 

I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry, Xichen. It threatens to spill from his mouth, the many things he never got to say. But he’s much too afraid at this moment, Xichen feels like he might break at any time. 

And then it comes. 

The scintillating explosiveness of the fireworks that illuminates his slate-grey eyes. It cackles and booms so loudly that it shakes at the pulse of his veins and Jiang Cheng watches it burst like a flame before it inevitably disperses into the darkness, without a trace of its existence. 

He thinks of how much it resembles this moment. Tomorrow, Xichen will forget this tender feeling, and only Jiang Cheng will remember, and he’ll keep it so deeply in his heart like a secret he allows himself to linger on. 

“How about we go home?”

They’re in the car twenty-something minutes later and Jiang Cheng curses his taste in air fresheners. Peach Mango. Extremely nauseating specially for one drunk passenger excitedly trying to peer through the windows like a puppy. 

Xichen is, for the most part, in the early stages of drowsiness but it’s amusing how he keeps trying to wake himself up. There’s only so many positions you can shift to o  a car seat and there’s only so many drawers he can pull open. Once he gets tired of it, he resorts to blabbering nonsense until the topic steers to Jiang Cheng. 

“Hey, Jiang Cheng.” He calls as nicely as possible but the man only hums, focused on the road. 

“Jiang Cheng,” He calls again to no response. 

“Jiang Cheng.” Another. 

“Jiang Ch—“

“What, Xichen?” He responds soon enough, gripping on the wheel tightly. His incessant calling almost drives him insane and it’s much more of a traffic hazard than a broken side mirror. 

“I’m sorry.” He says it warmly as if he were so proud. 

A resonating force pounds into his chest but Jiang Cheng tries to wave it off as drunk nonsense. “You are?” 

“Yeah.” 

“How so?” Whatever’s going to come out of his mouth is a lie, a misconception he believes in but Jiang Cheng wants to hear it anyway. 

“I don’t know, I—.” 

His lip quivers. “Xichen, you never owed me an apology.” 

Xichen isn’t kind enough to give him any response after rolling his head to the side and Jiang Cheng just thinks of how he probably wasn’t remembering anything anyway. 

And yet even then if he were to remember, Jiang Cheng wouldn’t tell him anything. 

He’s terrified of this connection that talking about the past will bind them once again and he knows Xichen won’t know how to deal with the truth once he finds out and Jiang Cheng won’t know what to do with the aftermath. It’s better this way. It has to be. Where there’s no depth between them and there’s no possibility of drowning. 

But even then he knows they’re both just on thin ice frozen from those six years of no contact and right now Xichen has set the wick aflame again, its wax body his own heart. 

So Jiang Cheng in his painful and foolish perseverance tiptoes on knives once Xichen asks him a question. "Do you think we can become friends?" 

"What makes you think I need friends?"

"You don't have to need things in order for you to deserve them." 

"Then alright," He closes his eyes. "Friends." 

If only for the night. 

-

And many days after Jiang Cheng blames it on the fact that he has a weak spot for cute things that Xichen somehow manages to remember their late-night promise of becoming friends and they're now about twenty-six movies since last week and they've gone past the point of knocking at each other's door. 

It's also good to note that one of their excuses in spending that much time with each other is that Jiang Cheng's teaching the hopeless man how to cook and it's working, somewhat, except Xichen makes it a point to also visit Cala and shower her with all of his affection, enough to possibly steal her away from Jiang Cheng. 

-

Jiang Cheng thinks there may be an error in his debugging program. 

He doesn't know what the problem is. If he and Xichen were either too empty or too whole. If there were areas that needed to be filled up or thrown away. 

Or maybe, in all honesty, he was the only problem. 

It's today that he recognizes his desire for something more than this, his human side telling him to go beyond. 

When Jiang Cheng thinks of Lan Xichen the first thing that happens is that he feels. It's a radiant, blossoming warmth that tickles his heart like silk and encases it thickly in honey. Then he thinks of how open he is, how utterly soft, gentle, and kind he is. How fragile he actually looks despite his composure. 

Considerate and infinite, he thinks of how Lan Xichen moves and breathes with purpose. How everything is a complex code made to look so easy, how he makes people feel like he was made for them. And he smiles after all of it, looking so handsome and pretty, sharp, and more well-put-together than Jiang  Cheng could ever dream of becoming. 

And he knows the look in his eye, when Xichen's touch lingers a little too long or when his mouth quivers once he thinks Jiang Cheng isn't looking. He remembers this look very well, once upon a time it made him feel special, like he actually deserved something. He knows this love that Xichen wants but shouldn't have. It's not going to go well, he can't even figure out what's exactly wrong with himself right now. 

It's what terrifies him. Jiang Cheng is too rough, too unbalanced, fuelled only by anger and spite that drives him to prove something to the world. And that's why he finally gathers the courage to show him, because he's terrible with words and maybe if he showed Xichen how much he didn't deserve his love he'd get rid of this guilt once and for all. 

It's a Saturday night and Lan Xichen has just gotten up from drinking a glass of water. Another show plays passively on the television and Jiang Cheng has his back turned, sitting on the sofa. 

Xichen is the first to speak in this thick silence, almost as if they both anticipated what was to come. "Jiang Cheng, I've been meaning to ask you something." 

“Mn?” 

“Back then… did you… did you ever like me back? I know we left things unsaid but I just can’t help but..”

"Are there still plates in the dishwasher?"

"No but Jiang Cheng—" 

"What about mugs?" 

"Jiang Cheng please, We need to talk. About us, about six years ago." 

Jiang Cheng flicks his eyes toward him. "What's there to talk about? What happened was enough of an explanation." 

"Then what is this?"

"What's what?"

The words tangle in Xichen's throat, releasing a raspy cry. "This. Whatever— this is. Look, I'm not mad. I'm trying not to be. And I know I'm not entitled to knowing but six years. Six years Jiang Cheng and we've even known each other for more than that. His voice trembles, louder with each word. "I just keep wondering where I'm wrong, why is it when I think I'm finally doing something right for once it never stays? I cannot keep you here, I know. But maybe I just… maybe I’m just scared of you having to leave.”

This was how Xichen worked. How the mechanics of his mind functioned, the millions of paths intertwining each other that made him up. Xichen was a man who blamed himself for the fault of others so he won't have to think of how they hurt him. So it would hurt less if it were his fault. So that the anger he'd expel is only for himself. 

And Jiang Cheng breathes deeply, tries not to think of how scared he is, the memory of before flashing in his eyes and it brings about a dull ache that holds him down. "I was afraid, okay?!" He didn't mean to say that. "I was afraid!" He tries to remain still, the warmth from Xichen's hold on him a while ago slowly turning cold. The words don't register in his mind and he feels like crying, curling himself up in a bawling mess like a child. 

He wasn't this weak before. 

"You were afraid?" It stings more how Xichen's voice is unable to turn sharp and furious, only this detached, frosted tone. "You think I didn't look for you after that?" It's quiet and desperate. "You think I didn't wonder what happened to you after that?! When you left me I convinced myself that you were happy. That maybe I just read you wrong, and that I was too hasty to let myself in your heart. You left all of a sudden I-"

 "I left so I could get away from you." He says it because he's an asshole with the poisoned blood of his father. The thing is that Jiang Cheng is a stunningly beautiful and calculated array of fireworks that's so utterly loud and explosive that it shakes him to the core. He knows himself from the inside out, knows all the buttons and where it all ticks. The best thing is that he knows how easy it is for him to choose to shut down. It's a self-defense mechanism unlike Xichen's. He says so many things that he never means. 

And now that he feels the burn of Xichen's golden heart melting on the palm of his hands, he comes to realize how much he can fuck things up, how he has the strength to crush him raw at his most vulnerable. 

He doesn't deserve someone as beautiful and kind as Lan Xichen because he can't think of anyone else that can hurt him as much as he can. 

It hurts when Xichen's face falters and the sadness flickers in his eyes then he retaliates with his own defense; a smile of acceptance. Like that was all of the faith he had in him. "Then it should have stayed that way." He says finally, the curve on his lips still present as he leaves and slams the door shut. 

It's not surprising for Jiang Cheng, but it's hot and prickly and it feels like burning in a cold fire. Painful and slow. He wants to get rid of the sound, the insane static that clogged his ears as he hears those words.

Because the thing with Lan Xichen is that he only ever says the things that he means. 

-

It’s a horrible day for rain. 

Jiang Cheng wakes up to flashes of lightning and thunder and a Cala disturbed from her sleep. It’s five thirty in the morning and he has to get to work at seven because of some dumb meeting that he was sure could be relayed in an email. 

Life just hates him like this. Jiang Cheng’s feet ache from the cold wooden floor and his eyes feel heavy. Cala is also way too busy prancing around the bedroom back and forth to greet him. Since that fight with Xichen the dog had been quite down.

He opts for a simpler breakfast because he really can’t be bothered anymore but proceeds to pick out a nice set of clothes to wear. Just because he felt like shit doesn’t mean he had to look like shit. It’s a simple suit and tie with a faint pinstripe design that he irons to perfection before he leaves the house. 

And it’s when he passes by Xichen’s door that his façade starts to break as he realizes how shallow and thin his mask is. But because Jian Cheng is a stubborn and relentless man, he’s determined not to let it get to him. 

Determination, unfortunately, is far too weak against the underlying force of the universe that wants to tear him apart and he’s six minutes into the meeting with a forced smile because he’s come to realize that smiling actually held the tears in his eyes that threatened to come out. 

The whole day was shit and it was incredibly draining. Everything feels like it’s washed down by a sheet of rain, so dull and gray and he’s numb and cold, and yet extremely irritable that he feels like a ticking time bomb that  doesn’t even care who he lashes out at anymore. 

He goes home straight away before he could do or say anything that threatened his employment and bears through it all as he takes Cala for a walk. She’s much calmer now, thankfully, and finishes her business quickly (probably because of pity.) He’s begging the pain to stop because there’s so much more he has to do, because he can’t be like this. If he breaks down now and he misses his clients, forgets to respond to an email, it’ll be over for the life he thought he had control of. What the fuck was he supposed to do then? Tell his boss ‘I’m sorry, life fucking hates me but I deserve it anyways. ‘ 

It’s so stupid, and Jiang Cheng’s stupidly standing in front of his door at the hallway for far too long because he’s been emptied out and there’s nothing, not even the strength to punch the numbers on the keypad. But he wants to go home and get inside the room. He wants to, his mind is telling him to, but his muscles just won’t move and he feels like a statue to Cala who was softly scratching at the door. 

Then suddenly his phone rings in his left hand, the annoying, default tone he couldn’t be bothered to change and it’s flashing the name of a keyboard smash because he didn’t care enough to contact him anyway and it elicited way less anger than having to see the screen light up the word ‘Father’.

There’s no excuse not to answer because the phone is already in his hands and he and his father aren’t very different, both were persistent. He doesn’t want him to potentially contact him later again in the night. So he accepts it with a sigh, he already feels like shit anyway. This was just the icing on the cake. 

“So you did answer.” His father’s voice held the same, misleading tone of kindness that almost resembles Xichen except it was like its shadow. 

Jiang Cheng grits his teeth. “Mn. What is it?” 

“Still fooling around in that playhouse of yours?”

“Still pretending like you were a good father and your son’s eventually going to come back and inherit your business?” 

There’s only so much a phone call could convey but Jiang Cheng knows he was fuming. “I called because your mother wanted you to visit.” 

He rolls his eyes. His mother wanted him to come, but his father needed him to come, that was the difference. “I’ll come when I feel like it.” 

“Ungrateful child, if I knew what kind of son you’d be I—“

Jiang Cheng hangs up. 

He hated it with his whole being, like he has to be grateful for everything his father gave him when all he did was carve him a name and shoes he’d fill into even though it’s the wrong size. His voice is hoarse and his throat is dry, a fleeting thought of having an actual conversation with his father now gone down the drain. 

He’s still in the hallway with no one else in sight and Cala’s on his feet looking up at him in confusion. “I know, I’ll open it.” He says tiredly and punches in the number but it doesn’t open as soon as he turns the handle. 

So he tries again. And it doesn’t work. 

And again.

And again. 

And again.

Don’t fucking do this to me, please please please. I can’t handle this anymore. Please. He feels like he’s about to cry, it’s the last thing that ticks him off and he kicks the door with so much force but it doesn’t move, even then and the next thing he knows is that he’s on the ground, knees touching the cold marble floor and his whole face is wet and everything hurts from the inside. 

I hate this. I hate this. I hate this. It’s the only thought he can formulate in his mind and he’s burying his face in his hands ashamed of what he looks like right now and it was getting hard to breathe but he crouches down even lower, his sleeves wet from the rain and tears and it’s gone so numb that he doesn’t notice the pair of arms that take his entire figure in. He feels like he’s underwater, and his hearing is nulled and distorted, there’s the clink of chains followed by some footsteps and the sound of the door opening. He’s weightless in his arms and he finally starts to make out his face the moment a minty scent reaches his nose. 

Through his shut eyelids he senses the lights in the room open and he’s taken somewhere further than his living room until he’s laid across the soft mattress. 

“It’s okay,”

Through his fingers Jiang Cheng opens his eyes, squinting from the brightness. Xichen’s palms are so gentle and cool as it touches his forehead and brushes his hair away. 

“It’s okay, sweetheart.” It’s not an accident now when he says it, and Jiang Cheng understands why it’s such a comforting endearment when it comes from Xichen’s lips. 

Jiang Cheng tries to bury his face even deeper into his knees but Xichen holds his face still, pressing a soft towel on his tear-stained face. He’s like a child in  front of him, there’s nothing but pure concern and comfort in his eyes as Jiang Cheng feels like he’s slowly heating up from embarrassment. 

It’s not fair at all how he’s like this when it hasn’t even been over a day. Xichen wasn’t supposed to be this nice, wasn’t supposed to be this warm. Not to him. 

“I— I’m so—sorry.” He chokes out in choppy sentences. “Xichen I— I’m sorry.” Hot, fresh tears streamed down from his face again and it poured even harder as Xichen calmly stroked his hair. “I’m.. I just—“ 

“My fault.” He whispers, busy drying the new tears. “It’s my fault I didn’t understand enough.” 

“No it’s not .” He tries to reason with every bit of his energy, clinging on to his arm and Jiang Cheng thinks of how inappropriate this looks and how Xichen would probably be frowning at him right now but he looks up and his face remains as calm as ever as if he were expecting it. 

There are very few people in this world that can afford to be as selfless as Xichen. When people assumed what Xichen’s job was they’d think of something glamorous, like a model, or an actor, or a CEO.  But Xichen’s able to overlook the things he can take and instead gives. 

And Jiang Cheng understands how he’s a teacher in the middle of his embrace. He was firm yet kind, so good at understanding things and so good at accepting them. He was the perfect image of an adult in a child’s eyes. There’s a point in time where kids look up to adults as if they had the answers to everything, as if they knew what they were doing. But then they grow up and make mistakes and they become bitter because they’re not like the superheroes they’ve been taught to be. Jiang Cheng isn’t a child anymore, but he sees that in him, that human superhero with a sixth sense for people who need something to cling on to and it leaves him in awe of how he does it. 

“I don’t understand you.” He says in a small voice once Xichen parts from his embrace. “I don’t understand why you’re like this. How you’re so nice to me.” 

Shock flickers across his eyes for a brief moment before he smiles, softly wiping away at his skin. “I don’t understand myself either.” Xichen says wistfully. “But you deserve it anyway.” 

“I don’t.” 

But Xichen doesn’t listen and sighs, shifting his position on the bed and turning his eyes away. “If I could have given you more then I would.” 

Jiang Cheng doesn’t understand what he means, if Xichen had no more to give or if it’s because Jiang Cheng doesn’t let him. 

Lan Xichen was a lot of things. He was born as a Lan then a first son and then later on the older brother. As his consciousness grew, he was the role model. Then he was the student council president, the top of his class, and the teacher’s assistant, and then he became a close friend of somebody and also someone’s first love. 

Lan Xichen was everything except himself. 

Born under a family who thrived on rules and tradition, he soon learned that it’s very easy for the rules to break you before you can break them and Lan Xichen was no exception. Perhaps this was what started his so-called skill, he was first taught not to shame his parents. But young as he was, he was simply too happy and determined to oblige, and that’s why he held no anger or resentment under the suffocating rules, because this was all he knew and that was all that was right. 

As Xichen grew up, he became an older brother to Wangji to which he served as the bridge. Little Wangji in his blooming curiosity and earnest heart was almost too human for the rules, too human to become a Lan. And Xichen reflected on these, desperate not to let resentment get to Wangji. That his little brother should not harbor any anger toward their family. So he took the blame upon himself like he always does. 

And even now a part of him feels like he’s the reason why Wangji turned out to have a difficult time expressing his emotions so openly. 

A reflective essay on self is what got him to realize how nameless he is, when he submitted his paper and it was handed back to him with a comment that he should talk about himself and not his family, or his friends, and whatnot. 

But he doesn’t know anything, that’s all he’s been told and he’s slowly taken to that role as well. Xichen’s good at roleplaying, he’s good at pretending. It doesn’t hurt when it’s like this, he doesn’t have to hurt anyone. 

He’s good at simplifying the most cumbersome of things because truthfully, he doesn’t know what he deserves and he forces himself to minimize all his problems because he can’t afford to waste time and dwell on them, because he has to be fine, he has to be perfect when people need him. What the hell was he supposed to do once he malfunctions? Who the hell was Lan Xichen if he wasn’t ready to help? 

He goes about this taking people’s smiles as a validation for existence and he’s happy that way, that his existence is enough knowing he’s helped somebody. 

But his system blows up the moment he meets Jiang Cheng, so explosive and radiant and strong. They talk to each other and eventually fall into a system where none of them has to give. Where the both of them ask nothing from each other and yet would give everything the moment they asked. 

Xichen’s seen what disobedience does in their family, what too much emotion destroys. It leaves a bitter taste in their tongue, their names like sour poison. They’re only ever remembered for their foolish mistakes. All in the name of love. 

Jiang Cheng’s warmth creeps up to him slowly like grass behind a cave, growing abundant but nobody notices. And it’s when the flowers bloom and he feels Jiang Cheng’s hand against his that it brings about a stir in his heart and he becomes awakened to how liberating it is to love. 

He doesn’t realize how quietly discipline breaks and how the family rules are a thousand years of fear— and how fear grows from so much love. Love has never become as ambivalent as it was now, both suffocating and liberating all at the same time. 

So when Jiang Cheng leaves him after so many years of hope, Xichen realizes he has the blood of a Lan and it’s his fault that he suffocated him too much. 

But now that he’s right in front of him again, cold and teary-eyed and trembling so hard that Xichen has to hold him to calm him down, Xichen knows that he fucked up again and that he never learns. 

“I don’t understand you,” Is what he tells him and Xichen wonders when it became so obvious.

This is why nobody asks you to stay, Xichen. You’re always too hasty. They wait for you to come and let you leave knowing you’ll come back anyway. 

You’re only ever needed, never loved. And somehow you make yourself believe that necessity is just as good. 

It’s wrong. This is why he left you six years ago. You’re never going to be important enough. 

“I don’t understand myself either,” He responds, holding back his tears and dabbing the cloth on his cheeks. 

This is enough, Xichen.  It has to be. B ecause this is all you’re going to be. 

-

There was nothing sixteen year-old Jiang Cheng wanted more than a complete and happy family and it broke him one by one when what it took for him to gain an ambition was his ultimate wish breaking apart. 

It’s when he realizes that no two things can co-exist just as equally; that there is always something left to be desired. And those are things you cannot always have. 

Because, to Jiang Cheng, love in its insane, courageous, and foolish existence did not equate to happiness. That this love would break you once it was shared, that a person could oh so easily wrap their hands around you and crush you at their will as you surrender raw and naked. 

“Keep that up and you won’t realize what love is. You will hate and you will be unloved.” They tell him, like it’s a deity they have to worship. A deity that made mistakes just as much as a human would. 

Oh, love isn’t there to make us happy. I believe it exists to show us how much we can endure.

He remembers a book on that, Hermann Hesse’s works. The long and painful path to oneself. Love meant endurance. And endurance was a pain he could not afford to take. 

Truth is that Jiang Cheng hates pain. There’s a reason why he wraps his hands around everything, why he breaks things down into code, why he puts limitations on each one so there wouldn’t be overstepping. Because things that worked were things that didn’t have to intersect each other. It’s childish thinking to run away, but if it’s worked for decades then Jiang Cheng would let it be. 

Jiang Cheng detested pain, pain was having to look at his mother close her eyes as his father looked at someone else. Pain was having his mother pull him away with the bribery of sweets and ice cream everytime parents would close up on each other and whisper words he didn’t understand. Words like 'infidelity’ and ‘a secret son’. His father isn’t a cheater, no. But he is a coward. So much so that the only one who was sure that his fault wasn’t infidelity was Jiang Cheng. And the fact hurts him more precisely because no one else is sure of what the problem is.

 Pain was having to see his sister give up her last meals and hobbies to play the role of babysitter for a man who has been in his home for more years than he was born but couldn’t even remember his day of birth. For a man who looked like he’d rather be anywhere else than with a woman who has given him almost everything he could ask for as a father and as a man of society.

So much in trying to fulfill the prophecy of this so-called love. 

But that was it, the other spectrum of Love. Selfishness. For Jiang Fengmian was a man too proud of his own image as a perfect ‘family man’ who only ever married one woman that he tosses them his earned money at the end of the day, attend dinner and play this supposed role of ‘father.’ 

And he has the audacity to call him ungrateful.

And when he finally gathers the courage to tell his mother, she whispers to him that she’s known it all along. But she was a woman of society, she cannot leave without the name of Jiang Fengmian’s wife. Once you were a wife, you’d need the husband else— what kind of mother were you but one who’s not enough? 

In this world where people’s first impression of you lasted, Jiang Cheng highly believed his mother could change it. His mother was strong, brave, and not one to be messed with. She was the power he had dreamed of. 

But there are things like jobs, money, and social status and Jiang Chen tries not to cry when his Yu Ziyuan proudly turns away and tells him that she has nothing to prove to any of them. 

Although he knows very well it’s just an attempt to stay quiet. Because she was afraid not of what would happen to her, but what would happen to her children. 

Some days he dreams of storming right into his father’s office, see the flame in his eyes burning as his image tears apart. Sometimes Jiang Cheng wants to take him by the neck and scream. Tell him all the things he never says, of how much he’s destroyed them, how undeserving he is of his place and one day he would come to realize that too late. 

Jiang Fengmian had the capacity to love, he did. Just like his children, just like his wife. But only if they served their purpose.

How could you look my mother in the eyes, wrap your arms around her and destroy her strength- destroy the proud woman she once was with the promise of this love?

How the hell could you look away from your children’s eyes and tell them they don’t understand? Project onto them that they’re not doing good enough as a son and a daughter when they didn’t have the good father they were supposed to have. 

Jiang. They say it collectively and Jiang Cheng wants to tear apart his skin and scratch it off. They say he is every inch his mother but the truth is that he’s very much like his father who never says what needs to be said, he’s too much like his asshole of a father that craves a certain image. The kind of person that eliminated things into code, that looked at people as if they were functions. It’s genetic and he’s inherited it. 

That’s the way it is when you love. It makes you suffer, and I have suffered much in the years since. But it matters little that you suffer, so long as you feel alive with a sense of the close bond that connects all living things, so long as love does not die!

Peter Camenzind. That damn book in Jiang Fengmian’s study that he read for days on end just to impress his father because he always thought he was quite pretentious in his display. Deep inside, he knows by the way he actually recalls every single sentence in the book that there is still love. That throughout this suffering, the only reason he’s stayed afloat is because of his desire to show to his father that he could be something else. 

Love does not die, no. Instead it manifests into grief, because, even then, Jiang Cheng’s happiest moments are recalled far back into his childhood home in his father’s arms. It is the feeling of loss, love’s gradual absence that his heart grieves.

Jiang Cheng thought humans were shaped from darkness, a darkness that craved and sought for light so they can see the image in their shadows and they desire it, they take it, they come a little too close until it destroys them. 

-

When people were scared, they looked for their origin. They looked for reasons. Their roots. Because nothing was more terrifying than the unknown, and Jiang Cheng keeps these thoughts close to him, the only justification that brings him comfort on why he's so less of a human is because he is his father's son. 

On his drive to his old home, he thinks of the many possibilities. What he'd do if his father greets him first, what he'd do if he sees his mother, what he'd say when relatives were there and he's only still quite sane because of his sister who sends him pictures of Cala in different clothing as she volunteered to look over her as he went for a three-day visit. 

Their home is beautifully decorated but modest in size, vines and flowers abundant along with handles made of pure silver. Sometimes Jiang Cheng is forced to think that his parents never really loved each other, but it's because they were so similar in status, in power, and in money, that they somehow made themselves believe that they're made for each other. (This, Jiang Cheng never says out loud. There are many things he can speak of, money, education, faults, but never their relationship. It's a truth they don't want to hear.) 

When he arrives at the door his mother is the first to answer, as if she were already expecting him, for the first time, her smile is small and tight, like she hasn't done it in a while.

It's her painted nails that he focuses his eyes at once dinnertime arrives. The flourishing vividness of magenta against her fair skin that lays brightness against the porcelain plates. There's only three of them on the huge, circular dining table, the only audible sound is the light clinks of utensils. 

His father speaks of his sister and her son like trophies he receives in pretentious awarding ceremonies. They're like items, like gold. This is what he indirectly tells Jiang Cheng, what he should be and what he should have. Jiang Fengmian's cool, lulling tone always irked him when he turned like this, because Yanli most definitely did not have a son for him. 

"—And maybe in two years, once the office in Shanghai has finished construction, I'll let you take over it. You'll have to train under me, though it would have been better if you started early." Jiang Fengmian lists off. 

Jiang Cheng clicks his tongue. "I don't want to," He says. "I already have a job, I told you." 

"How much does it pay?"

"Enough for me to live comfortably." 

It's like a slow decrescendo when he says it, a loss in dynamic. Years ago he was so hell-bent on getting a job and proving his father wrong, that he doesn't need him. His life were basically a whole 'fuck you' to the universe and he once imagined saying it with pride. But saying it now, it feels foolish. 

Both his father and mother never told him to dream, he didn't have to. But Jiang Cheng did anyway and in hushed secrets between him and his mother she saw that sparkle in her eyes, the spark of renewed hope. 

("What about you, ma? Do you have dreams?"

"I'm fully awake now. Both you and A-li are my ultimate dreams.")

So he almost laughs at his father's unpleasant response. 

Why are you trying to get me to wake up when you never told me to dream in the first place? 

"I've had enough of your disrespect, Jiang Cheng. You're my son— you can't possibly think that living in those conditions will do you any good in the long run." The utensils fall heavily on the table. "You're thirty-three and still fooling around i that pretend-life of yours."

"God, you've got to be kidding me. I've never felt this satisfied in years."

"Both of you—" His mother starts. 

"If I had known how much of a failure you were going to be, I should have been stricter."

Two things can co-exist. The words ‘my son’ and ‘failure’. At the end of the day, Jiang Cheng realizes, they are all he has. 

There's nothing left inside him, Jiang Cheng's heart feels like it's been dug out and crushed into fine powder. Only a hollow laugh slips from his lips in place of the anger that should have come out. "That's right." He says weakly. "You always fail when it comes to us anyway." 

Jiang Fengmian's gaze is deep and it holds him in place, brimming with anger and disgust, and a hint of sadness in its liquid shine. This breaks Jiang Cheng just a little, pity festering in the pit of his stomach. He wanted to beg him to just give up and let him go, but in all honesty, Jiang Cheng was all he had. It would have been easier if there had been someone else. 

He's a half-hearted excuse for a son and Jiang Cheng knows it. He speaks so much about code, about functions, names, and people but it's all so shallow. There's no depth to him, just as hollow as unworn clothes. The truth is that he hasn't changed, somehow, his eyes still make their way over to Jiang Fengmian, longing for words of praise. The irrevocable truth is that he's never going to grow out of it and a part of him envies Lan Xichen at how much he was able to change. 

He's just so tired and hollow that he feels like sunlight merely passes through the hole where his heart is supposed to be. As if composed of dark matter, stardust, blood, ichor, and everything else. Too much of something that he was reduced to nothing. 

And then, because his father is just like him, a coward that never says what needs to be said, he purses his lips and gathers the utensils on his table, standing up and leaving the room.

It's the same as any other phone call.

Before he knew what fear was Jiang Cheng knew strength. The very first flashes of motivation and hope from his mother's strong, commanding voice that demanded respect. 

Then he came to know fear, whenever he was reprimanded for being too unruly, when his first dog died (and he didn't want any more pets for a while because he was scared to lose them again.), when he received low grades, and that time where he came to realize that he's not really allowed to choose what he wants to be like his other classmates because he's the appointed heir. 

But Jiang Cheng is understanding. He sees how this binds his family, he sees what makes them stay sane and put-together. It's this image. Happiness is this image, and because of the intensity of their love for it they stake their everything in keeping this image and for once, he tries to do his part. 

Fear and strength were two sides of the same coin of love and as much as it became his strength, he realized fear as he grew to notice Jiang Fengmian's carelessness, the flaw in his persona that he can't make up. And it broke him, every day, it broke him how disappointingly predictable his father had come to be. 

Since then, he'd spend every moment of his life trying to prove that he's much better than his father and that one day he'd make his mother proud. 

Jiang Cheng's voice is loud, nothing short of absolute and sureness. He thought this great announcement would be the same, announced with the intensity of brass instruments blaring and drums pounding an intense cadence, but face to face with the moment he's been waiting for realization washes up inside him, his body succumbing to the accumulated exhaustion where anger was merely high-pressure gas and fatigue was like an ocean waiting for him to fall into it. Jiang Cheng didn't expect that he'd be the first one to succumb to this exhaustion. 

Yu Ziyuan waits for him to leave his bedroom in the middle of the night, two mugs, one with tea and one with coffee. She scolds him a bit before laughing, ruffling his hair and looking at him with droopy eyes and sagged shoulders. "Mn. Your father may act as if he owns the world but I run this place just as much as he does. Jiang Cheng, this household— and the company is just as much my responsibility. I see the look in your eyes, don't you dare look at me with pity." She says in a whisper, the tips of her fingers cold like always. "You should live your life,"

Jiang Cheng doesn't know what to say to her, doesn't know how to tell her that he doesn't want to live like this anymore, that his hands are cramping up from having to arrange the code, support the system, and look for errors. He doesn't know how to tell her that he knows no other way, he doesn't want her to feel like she's to blame for his incapabilities of accepting happiness. 

"You're tired." She reads him like an open book, there's not intricate reasoning of why she knows, it's in her heart, it's in the way her hands have long since memorized how her beloved son is built. 

Maybe he's finally grown up. Maybe this was the awakening, the point in time where he's finally too tired to give a fuck, too tired to live under his father's shadows, too tired to prove him wrong. This was the true strength. The one his mother never lost. 

He doesn't have to prove anything to anyone to validate his existence in life. 

'You don't have to need things in order to deserve them.'

He remembers Xichen's figure, his voice, his personality, his laugh, his inability to do household chores, the stories they shared, and how he's the only thing he never got tired of. 

And Jiang Cheng breathes, allows himself to be embraced tightly— because for once, for once, he cannot think of anything more beautiful than being happy. 

Three days later he comes back to his apartment hallway with piles of boxes stacked up on each other reminding him of the first day he arrived. The day is still warm from the brightness of the sun but a chilling feeling climbs up Jiang Cheng's back and he feels cold and nervous all of a sudden. This was not what he expected to come home to. 

Cala's beside him after being picked up from Yanli's place looking just as confused as her owner is, sniffing at the items one by one and walking across it before she stops by Xichen's closed door. Jiang Cheng follows her and peers down at one package with 'Lan Xichen' written on it in black marker. His heart almost stops, feeling his palms sweat. 

One of their older neighbors comes out and Jiang Cheng abruptly stops him. "Mrs. Liu, do you know what's happening here?" He gestures at the boxes. 

"Oh," She raises her eyebrows, trying to recall something. "That handsome young man is moving out tomorrow, I hear. He bought a house. Such a shame though, he was a very kind man." 

What? Millions of thoughts rush across his head, all incomprehensible. 

"Well," She starts to walk her way out. "I'm pretty sure he's still in there if you need something from him." She says finally before leaving. 

Jiang Cheng bites his thumb, what the fuck. It's my fault. He probably didn't want to remain near me after that happened, Jiang Cheng why are you so surpised wh-

The door swings open and Cala's tail wags. There's a paper bag in his hands and glasses perched on his nose, freezing in place as he looks at him in shock. 

"Jiang Cheng—"

"Xichen!" 

Xichen shakes his head, a bright red flush on his cheeks as he fidgets with the item on his hand. He looks slightly frazzled, a few pieces of hair sticking out in odd places and he smells faintly of sugar, like cookies and chocolate. 

"J-Jiang Cheng I—" He falls into a stuttering mess, feeling jittery and unable to look him in the eyes. "You're back." 

"I am," He raises an eyebrow. "Do you— mind explaining what's happening?"

"Oh," Realization finally registers in his mind and the mood drops. Xichen bites his lip and swallows thickly, looking crestfallen. "I'm moving out." He almost doesn't want to say it. "Here," A light blue paper bag is thrust upon him and Jiang Cheng mindlessly accepts it out of instinct. Peering closely, he could see tupperwares of food. 

Meat and vegetable dishes and a batch of cooks and even some food labelled for Cala. This was everything he taught him. Jiang Cheng sucks in a breath, looking at him for explanation. 

"I thought I'd at least show you how much I improved." He scratches his head. "It's not the best but I...I tried, yeah." 

There's something stuck in his throat and his chest contracts tightly, the hairs on his skin standing up and it's tense and hot. "Why-!" He blurts out and Xichen jumps. "I mean why," He coughs. "Why are you...why are you leaving?" His voice shrinks once he says it and he feels embarrassed for looking so clingy. 

Mist returns in Xichen's eyes, his movements tight and mechanical. His hands curl into tight fists, restricting the flow of blood. He's so anxious, Jiang Cheng can tell from his shakiness. "I thought it'd be better for us." 

His heart breaks. "Better? Xichen what do you mean-" 

What if I don't want you to leave me?

What if I admit that I sort of can't really live without you and I know it's selfish of me after all I've done but Xichen, honestly you are really—

"Listen, I—" He starts off strong but Jiang Cheng watches him waver and clench his jaw. He takes a deep breath, and shifts his feet, gathering the courage to meet his eyes. "There are so many things I want to tell you." 

There is so much I want to say to you, too. 

"Now that it's come to this I— I might as well say everything. After this, Jiang Cheng, you won't have to see me everyday now. I won't bother you anymore. This is the last time, I swear." He sounds so small and afraid. "When I found out I was your neighbor I felt so nervous, I thought it was going to be awkward, I thought you'd get mad. But then maybe it's just me but— we started warming up to each other, and we became friends, and you're so nice, and ah— and kind that you drove me back home when I was drunk and you taught me how to cook and I don't know, I just messed it all up like before. I told myself we were only going to remain friends but the next thing I knew I didn't want to lose you again and I'm still in love with you. But I'm always so hasty, I never know what to do— it's my fault that I went beyond what you're comfortable with, I misread those looks that you gave me. So I decided it's best if we don't see each other like this anymore because it's painful— for me, and I keep wishing for something that will never happen." 

He finishes breathless, the rebound of adrenaline in his unplanned speech that's all over the place with his tongue moving faster than his mind. Xichen looks at him with apprehension, already steeling himself and bracing himself for the impact. 

Xichen, why do you look so small? 

I'm sorry. don't be afraid.

The fact that he's so scared hurts Jiang Cheng even more and he lays the bag down on the ground. It's been so hard on Xichen's part, Jiang Cheng understands. He doesn't heal fast, he just looks like he does. There are many things Xichen never chooses to show, he never shows how human he is, Xichen has always looked so responsible and ready that it's only in his unconscious slips that Jiang Cheng sees how fragile he can be, how chaos bursts from the tiny pandora's box that Xichen has stuffed all his troubles in. 

Jiang Cheng resists the urge to cup his face in his hands and instead tries to formulate something coherent enough in his giddiness hoping that it's not too late. 

"Xichen," He breathes, his name sounding so smooth and warm on his tongue. It feels like one of those movies where his vision only sees him and everything is in slow motion, they're in this world of their own. In his state, he's just as terrible with words. "Please don't tell me I'm too late," He manages. "Please— I don't want you to go." 

"Is there something I have of yours? I—"

"No, Xichen." Jiang Cheng feels like he's about to combust. "I thought I didn't deserve you." He states. "Back then when I left, I was obsessed— obsessed with proving my father wrong. I became arrogant and thought of it as self-sufficient and you were so generous that it damaged my pride. I thought the best thing to do was to cut everyone off and I kept searching- searching for this 'self' and eventually I'm going to go back to my father with this trophy and brag to him how well I'm doing." 

It's the whole truth that he finally gets to say, the one he's only accepted recently. 

"But I'm not doing well, I just convinced myself that I am. And truthfully I was so in love with you, god, you were so perfect. But you couldn't possibly love me," 

"I can. I did, years ago." 

"I know, and that's what terrified me. The fact that no one else has been this close to hurting you in such a huge scale, I never understood why you stayed. Now that I've come to a dead end I realized that I found myself in you. I don't want you to leave, you're all I know." 

They both remain frozen for a moment in time. 

And then Xichen moves, slowly. 

"Tell me if I'm wrong."

For the first time, Jiang Cheng doesn't know what he's about to do. Did I say it properly? Did I just dig myself a hole? A tender and soft kiss presses upon his lips and all his blood rushes up. It's cold on Xichen’s receiving end. Cold and unresponsive. 

He can feel it, the regret that washes over Jiang Cheng, but he grips on the hem of his sleeve so tightly that his knuckles turn white. It begs him to stay and it tells him to hope. 

Xichen takes the leap into a free fall dive of no guarantee, runs and jumps, taking all of his will with him and dips down once more, captures the sweetness on his lips once again, the taste of hope like sweet nectar on a blooming flower. 

Tell me please, words are my only reassurance. 

Another kiss. But it's Jiang Cheng that pulls his jaw down ever so slightly, he holds him like a golden heart molten in the heat of it all. So careful, shy, and afraid like he's the only one he has. He deepens the kiss, on the edge of innocence and lust, the tip of his tongue licking at his lips and he feels the wall on his back along with the arms that Xichen tightly wraps around him. 

Jiang Cheng misses it the moment he pulls away, heavily flustered and his breaths heavy. He looks up to him with bright, starry eyes. "You're not...you're not wrong. You never were." He feels giddy, taking in all of Xichen's image and he finally gets to put his palms on his cheeks. "I'm in love with you, idiot. I love you so much, very much." 

Xichen almost bursts into tears of joy, his body radiating warmth and he looks so happy, so incredibly happy— because there is no one else that can make him happier than Jiang Cheng and he's about to pull him into another hug before he stops and Jiang Cheng looks at him in confusion.

"We're.." He tries to speak very carefully. "Jiang Cheng we're in the hallway." 

And then Jiang Cheng splutters, and then he remembers the cameras and he's beyond mortified as Xichen pulls him to his apartment with Cala following. 

"Oh my god," Jiang Cheng says, eyes wide. "Oh my fucking god, Xichen, I completely forgot." 

Xichen chuckles, kissing his forehead. "It's fine, no one was there. And if the security asks you about it, well I'd already be in my new house." He jokes.

"How dare you leave me to deal with the aftermath—" He's silenced by another kiss. It's strong and firm, and it has everything Xichen had wanted to say and Jiang Cheng almost forgets who he is. 

"At least we're inside now. And also, I didn't move too far away so, does this give me a pass to let me stay in your house when I come here?" 

"As long as you let me stay in yours." 

"Might as well move in." 

Jiang Cheng blinks. "Xichen—"

"Just kidding, you don't have to think about that now." He smiles. 

Jiang Cheng laughs, looking around his almost empty living room. "Right, that reminds me..." He holds up the paperbag of food. "What do you say, let's have this for lunch?"

Color drains from Xichen's face. "Jiang Cheng, you don't have to—"

"You made this for me right?" He cuts him off sweetly. "Well I can't wait to taste my one and only apprentice's cooking." 

"Jiang Cheng I'm telling you, I don't think—" He receives a kiss on the cheek that abruptly shuts him up. "Fine." He concedes. "I apologize in advance." 

Jiang Cheng doesn't mind, in fact, he doesn't care how it looks or how it tastes at all. He just likes everything he receives from Xichen. If it did turn out to be as bad as he made it out to be, well, they have all the time to fix it. He's just incredibly happy beyond belief and he never thought he'd feel this excited in his life.

And when he looks at him with hopeful and bright eyes, he falls in love all over again. He falls in love at how comforting Xichen's presence is, so familiar and beautiful- Lan Xichen is all that he knows. 

Then he reaches for him, feeling the warmth of his skin in his hands that he holds with so much tenderness and love, a physical manifestation of everything he's ever dreamed of. The one he'd gladly give his all too. 

Jiang Cheng finally decides. 

He'll live as if Lan Xichen is all that he has. 

(And a few weeks after that when Jiang Cheng finally admits their relationship to Wei Wuxian and Nie Huaisang, Huaisang yells in glee as he's now a few bills richer.)

TextWindow .Title = "Because You Are All I Know (And You Are All I Have)"

TextWindow.CursorTop = 20

TextWindow.Left = 300

TextWindow.WriteLine ("I love you.") 💙

TextWindow . Pause ( )

TextWindow . Clear ( )

TextWindow.WriteLine ("I love you too.") 💜