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“Why.”
Not a question. A demand. He Tian wonders if, as much as Mo Guan Shan says He Tian always makes demands of him, he’s also aware that he does the same.
“Hm?”
“Why me.”
He Tian ponders at the words as he runs his fingers on the side of Mo Guan Shan’s head resting in his chest. The shorn hair is starting to grow. Mo Guan Shan has noticed. And tomorrow, he’ll probably go to the barber shop downtown, the one he’s been going to since middle school, to get it cut again. Maybe he’ll ask He Tian to come and they can eat at the corner noodle shop next block from the barbers, the one with the really spicy mapo tofu Mo Guan Shan likes. He Tian will drag them to the fancy yogurt store he likes by the station to get his tongue to stop hurting from the mapo sauce and Mo Guan Shan will tease him about his shitty spice tolerance (it’s not! Mo Guan Shan’s Sichuanese palette is just short of demonic!) before heading home to do laundry.
Or if Mo Guan Shan doesn’t feel like going out, he’ll shave off the sides of his head over the bathroom sink himself (maybe he’ll ask He Tian) and they’ll just order takeout. And then do laundry.
“Hey.” A pinch at He Tian’s exposed hip which hurt enough for him to tug at Mo Guan Shan’s ear in retaliation. “Answer the question, you dick.”
“Tch.” He Tian’s hand continues to run through Mo Guan Shang’s hair, down to his neck, to his shoulder, his arm, and then back up. Repeats.
The touch is light and almost absent. Done almost as if just for something to do. Mo Guan Shan knows He Tian is thinking. He waits.
There’s a myriad of answers to that. Chief among them is, well, He Tian doesn’t know really.
Mo Guan Shan was just some delinquent Jian Yi and Zhan Zheng Xi fought once. He Tian helped beat him up and then he saw him again eating a sandwich outside of some convenience store he couldn’t remember what chain now. He Tian was bored and Mo Guan Shan was a good distraction. A fun distraction. He made He Tian laugh. Truly. Genuinely. The type that travels warm through the chest and sits pleasantly in the belly. The type of laugh he has to stifle. And He Tian can’t remember the last time he laughed that wasn’t out of derision or condescension. Mo Guan Shan is a good cook. A really good cook. He Tian never really cared much for food beyond needed sustenance but the first taste of Mo Guan Shang’s beef stew got him craving. To this day, He Tian swears it’s one of the best dishes he’s ever had. Mo Guan Shan needed better friends and maybe at the time He Tian also needed a friend. Mo Guan Shan was strong but he needed saving too and He Tian liked being needed.
Mo Guan Shan had the eyes of someone fighting the world as if it owed him something. He looked at He Tian like a nuisance and without any expectations. But He Tian liked exceeding expectations regardless if they don’t exist and so he took that as a challenge.
But it’s also precisely because Mo Guan Shan looked at him without expecting anything. For someone like He Tian, that was the most refreshing thing in the world. Mo Guan Shan looks at him and He Tian can just be. And now the only expectations he wants to exceed are Mo Guan Shan’s.
“Your eyes.”
“What?”
“It was your eyes. I liked them.”
“Liked?” Past tense?
“I still do. I like you.”
“My eyes, huh.” A pause. “Why?” A genuine question this time.
He Tian shrugs. “They looked sad.”
“Have you looked in the mirror.”
“Not the same.”
“You liked my eyes because they looked sad.”
A shrug. “I like sad things.”
“You’re sad.”
“On the contrary, Little Mo.” He Tian presses Mo Guan Shan against his side. Skin to skin, half of Mo Guan Shan’s body practically draped over him. He keeps him there and drops a kiss on fiery auburn locks. Smiles against his temple when he doesn’t shift away and just stays there, pressed snug against He Tian. The arm thrown over his bare torso is a very welcomed warm weight. “I am actually very, very happy.”
Now. Because of you.
“What about now?”
He Tian lets his hand travel lower, beneath the sheet draped loosely over their hips, to grab at soft flesh.
“Oh, I am very, very, absolutely happy right now.”
“Tch.” Another pinch to his side, a light kick in the shins. “Not what I meant, pervert.”
“Eeeh. You love it.” Love me. “Well, what do you mean?”
“Are my eyes still sad?”
A consideration. “No.” He Tian thinks of warm brown eyes welcoming him home with dinner on the stove, thinks of the wicked glint in them just moments earlier looking down at him as Mo Guan Shan rides him, of the euphoric haze in them afterward when He Tian flipped them and finished inside him. “Not much now, no.”
Because Mo Guan Shan still has his days when it feels like his insides are slowly but surely turning cold, chest heavy, and hollow at the same time. They both do. And He Tian won’t pretend he can chase them all away any more than Mo Guan Shan can keep He Tian’s at bay. But best believe He Tian is damn well sure as fuck always gonna try his level best to pull Mo Guan Shan out of it just as he does to him. Every time.
“Guess you no longer like me then, huh.”
He Tian scoffs—almost laughs—at the absurdity of the mere idea. See? Didn’t he say Mo Guan Shan is quite the comedian?
“Again, on the contrary, Little Mo.” He Tian turns on his side, pulls Mo Guan Shan impossibly closer against him so they’re chest to chest, and slots a leg in between Mo Guan Shan’s. In response, an arm curls tight around his back, a hand curled and pressed between skin and cotton sheets, the other placed over He Tian’s chest, and it’s like slotting two puzzle pieces together. Perfectly. “I really, very much like you. Love you even.”
Mo Guan Shan sighs and tucks his face where He Tian’s neck and shoulder meet. He inhales, reveling in the smell of sex, sweat, and something distinctively He Tian—dark and dangerous and safe.
“Sap.” Because He Tian, Mo Guan Shan knows, for all his faults, never lies. “You said you like sad things.”
“No. I said I like you. Just you.” He Tian says. “I love you.”
The words are said with a tone of unquestionable certainty. Just like all the other times he’s said them and all the other times they will leave He Tian’s lips. Always. Without question.
In whatever state you are, I will always like, want, need, love, everything you.
Mo Guan Shan just hums, pressing his lips tenderly at He Tian’s pulse one, two, three times.
He Tian clutches at the palm resting over his heart. It’s all the answer he needs.