Work Text:
You can never change a node.
He knew.
He knew, and he’d known.
Some things were fate.
Some things could not be changed.
Most things were better left alone.
And it was better to never do anything you’d regret. Never do anything that would need to be changed, never take any uncalculated risks at all.
But here he was, lowering his phone camera from the picture he’d taken. Swallowing hard to keep the spiraling thoughts at bay. The memories that were no longer reality, but still swarmed inside his head until all he heard was their white noise. All he felt was the crushing pressure of being too late, too late, too late.
He pushed open the door to their bedroom, not giving himself time to collect himself and realize ‘this is a bad idea’ before Cheng Xiaoshi was perking up, offering him that signature smile and confidence, and Lu Guang was hurtling into his chest at full speed like he was an asteroid caught in the gravitational force of the sun.
They collided like they always did: Cheng Xiaoshi surprised but never alarmed, always so willing to go along with whatever Lu Guang gave him, whether it was a simple nod or the still-beating heart torn from his chest; Lu Guang at the mercy of the full exposure of his trust, always awaiting the next burn, the next moment he knew he’d shatter when it all had to come undone.
“What was that for?” Cheng Xiaoshi huffed, something like a breathless chuckle.
And Lu Guang couldn’t breathe at all, smothering himself in Cheng Xiaoshi, pressing his face against the softness of his hoodie’s shoulder. Begging to be held and loved and cherished like he knew Cheng Xiaoshi didn’t, only when Lu Guang wanted him to, because they weren’t like that and they couldn’t be like that and they only ever were once Lu Guang had planted the seed in his mind.
“Hey,” he tried again, hands clasping onto Lu Guang’s shoulders, gently prying him up and away and apart. “What’s wrong?”
And this part was always, always so hard. It was always the first time, always awkward and clunky and painful, no matter how many times he practiced, no matter how often he tried. And not only that, but Cheng Xiaoshi would never remember, never truly get to respond, never get to express it himself before Lu Guang ripped it all away. Again and again and again.
“I—” he choked, not even bothering to hide the tears. Not when this would all be over in a matter of minutes, not when he alone would remember these moments like they’d never actually happened.
“Lu Guang?” He was pushing back now, creating more space for the worry to reside and the warmth between them to dissipate. Lu Guang shuddered in its absence, pressed himself back into Cheng Xiaoshi’s shoulder.
“I just want,” he mumbled, voice sounding as watery as his resolve felt, “you to hold me. Please.”
There was a moment’s hesitation before Cheng Xiaoshi’s arms wrapped around his back, pulling him in impossibly closer, pressing him back together where his seams had begun to ravel apart. “Okay,” he murmured gently, tucking his face into the crook of Lu Guang’s neck.
Lu Guang clung tighter, hands gripping like Cheng Xiaoshi was his lifeline, like he wanted to be so close that they melded together, and he would never be alone again, never experience that pain again, never— Not ever again.
Cheng Xiaoshi always gave as good as he got, arms wrapped tightly enough around Lu Guang’s torso that it almost hurt to breathe. Almost like he knew he was holding what little of Lu Guang there was left together. Almost like he knew he was the reason Lu Guang had been torn apart.
His breath was painfully hitching, silent sobs muffled into damp cloth. Cheng Xiaoshi let him; so full of love and compassion, always willing to sacrifice everything for the happiness of someone else.
Even if it meant his life.
Even if it meant the rest of Lu Guang’s lives, after that.
His grip tightened, the pain of his already too-tight fists like nothing in comparison to the ache, the nausea from the memories that had taken up space at the forefront of his mind, leaving no room for anything else until they broke him like this, over and over again.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Cheng Xiaoshi nuzzled into his neck, gentle and patient and calm.
He never wanted to so much as think about it again, but he knew Cheng Xiaoshi would never let him go without a response. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.
“For?”
Slowly, he lifted his head, sitting back until he could look Cheng Xiaoshi in the eye. “I love you.”
Lu Guang watched his face morph from gentle concern to confusion and back, lips parting before he spoke. Before he even knew what he would speak at all. “Why are you apologizing?” He whispered back, hands still tight and warm and comforting against Lu Guang’s back.
He didn’t respond, instead leaning down to press their lips together.
Cheng Xiaoshi always gave as good as he got.
Tender kisses lined his cheekbones, his forehead, his neck. He pressed back, needy and selfish and morbidly broken. Cheng Xiaoshi didn’t seem to care. He never seemed to care. Instead, he was always willing to roll with the tide, take anything he was offered and give Lu Guang everything he wanted.
He ended up on his back, hands threaded through his partner’s hair, Cheng Xiaoshi’s fingers tracing lightly up and down his sides while they kissed. It felt like the air they shared was the only oxygen his lungs were built for, the time they spent together was the only time he didn’t choke.
His eyes had closed at some point, and he didn’t notice until Cheng Xiaoshi was rubbing his thumbs under them, staring down at him so fondly that he felt he would burst. It wasn’t deserved. It was never deserved. The small smile he got when he opened them wide enough made the ache even worse.
“Hey,” he murmured, pressing another gentle kiss to Lu Guang’s forehead.
He swallowed, still unable to ever express exactly what he was wanting.
“Are you good to sleep in this?” He pulled at the fabric of Lu Guang’s button-up shirt. Hesitantly, he nodded. “Great,” Cheng Xiaoshi grinned, flopping to the side and pulling Lu Guang into his chest. His heart soared while his stomach sunk.
It wouldn’t be long before this was over. Before this had never even happened.
Cheng Xiaoshi placed one last kiss on the top of his head as Lu Guang pulled out his phone. “I love you too.”
He lowered his phone camera and turned, walking down the stairs.