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Qiu leans against the doorframe of his bedroom, watching He Cheng’s chest rise and fall under the auburn hues gifted by the setting sun.
His shoulder aches from where it’s pressed against the white wood, back in need of a strong crack, no telling how long he’s been standing there but knowing the sun was much higher in the sky when He Cheng stumbled in half awake.
He’s afraid to move, has been holding in a cough for so long that at some point after his eyes began to water he swallowed it completely. He Cheng never sleeps this long.
He never sleeps at all, really.
Qiu, who’s by his side more often than not, knows the man’s resistance to some good quality shut-eye more than anyone.
It’s not like he doesn’t relax. Qiu is nearly constantly aware of He Cheng’s location, he knows he frequents the spa and spends many of his free hours in front of the large glass tank where Qui’s pet sharks reside, sipping whiskey and thinking too hard for his own good.
It’s just that he doesn’t sleep during those times, or at night when he’s supposed to, or anytime at all.
It’s why Qiu currently stands still as a statue, terrified that even his breathing might be too loud, unable to look away from just how soft He Cheng’s expression is capable of being.
He’ll never get used to it.
Most of the time, on the rare occasion Qiu catches He Cheng asleep on the third or so day of being awake, the pale man will rise the moment someone has entered the room, especially if that person is anyone other than Qiu. He’s convinced his boss has a sensor built in to rattle him awake whenever he’s not alone, a sensor that’s only ever been bypassed by Qiu himself in the few times he’s caught He Cheng passed out.
Qiu amounts the light sleeping habits to paranoia.
Though the shorter man hides it well, it’s bound to come to fruition every now and then, and who better to catch it than the man who’s always by his side?
His eyebrows furrow, knowing it’s why He Cheng dragged himself to Qiu’s door instead of falling into his own temperature-controlled, adjustable, California-king-sized heaven.
Today just so happened to be the day that He Cheng’s father revealed a spy in their midst. A spy that He Cheng and all others failed to catch.
Qiu wasn’t there for the disciplining. He’d been sent out to catch the mole’s scent like the loyal dog he is, and when he returned home after a full night and day searching, a bruised He Cheng followed.
His boss hadn’t said a word as he’d practically dragged himself to Qiu’s non-temperature controlled, stiff, queen-sized mattress, shedding his shirt and shoes before taking a seat on the edge, looking seconds away from shattering like glass.
The angry red hand print around He Cheng’s throat and the developing bruise on his cheek proved what had happened between him and his father, and Qiu left in the guise of getting him water only to hide how violent the sight made him, promising a long night with his punching bag later.
When he returned with the glass, He Cheng was long gone under a spell of unconsciousness, expression soft against Qiu’s favorite pillow.
He dared to move even at a snail’s pace, placing the water on his bedside table and sneakily silencing the phone cradled in his boss’s loose grip, which he’s sure he’ll be scolded for later. He adjusts the blankets so that they’re covering everything up to He Cheng’s chin before retreating to the doorway where he’s been standing ever since.
Just when Qiu begins to doze off standing up, the front door opens without warning. His body jumps back to life in a heartbeat, sparing a glance at He Cheng before moving like a panther toward the unwanted guest.
Rounding the corner with a severe expression, Qiu comes face to face with He Cheng’s little brother. He’s annoyed before anything has been said.
He Tian opens his mouth, but even that is too slow.
Qiu shoves him out the door, following only because he knows if he doesn’t the teen will break back in.
“Your brother is sleeping,” He warns gravely, watching He Tian pause.
Just because the kid hardly ever comes around anymore doesn’t mean he’s ignorant of how rare the occasion. Seemingly contemplating something for a while, He Tian eventually decides to retreat, but not without his usual quip.
“I hope he gives you treats for being such a good guard doggie.”
Qiu goes to grab for He Tian’s shirt, watching as the teen scrambles away with hardly subdued laughter.
“Tell him to wire me some money later, I’m running low on funds and I want to take my Little Mo snowboarding.”
Qiu glares, biting out, “Then get a job.” And slams the door with as much force as a mouse.
He practically tiptoes back to his bedroom, afraid to see whether or not the commotion woke He Cheng up, unable to hold back his smile at the sight of the shorter man still far from reality.
Backing away from the doorway, he retreats to his couch where he’ll remain until the morning time when he and He Cheng are forced to be people again.
Except, sometime through the night, Qiu is awoken by a hand tugging on his shirt collar.
He startles for only a moment before his eyes can make out He Cheng standing over him, hair a mess and eyes puffy from sleep. It’s such a rare look from his boss that Qiu’s heart begins to pound unnaturally and his stomach curls into knots.
The hand holding his shirt tugs again, and Qiu follows He Cheng wordlessly down the hall and back to his bedroom, where the shorter man drags him to lie down before doing the same.
They're barely touching like this, Qiu’s arm a ghost over He Cheng’s waist, his hardened stomach brushing against the man’s back. If this is where his boss wants him, then isn’t it his duty that he stays?
He Cheng slides back half an inch, subtle enough to have almost been missed. Thankfully, Qiu seems to come with a built-in He Cheng sensor as well, and meets him halfway.
“Mmm.” He Cheng hums, a noise so pleased it nearly drives Qiu mad in a matter of one second.
All this time, and he’s never been so vulnerable in front of anyone. To be so now, in Qiu’s presence where he feels comfortable enough to, causes a protective urge to rise so ferociously that every cell in his body seems to spark like a firecracker.
He Cheng is not a man that needs to be protected.
It’s why he never sleeps, confident in his ability to handle any danger as long as he’s awake. But here, drenched in exhaustion, in need of a shield, he’s folded himself into the arms of the only man he finds capable enough to cover that haunting blindspot.
Qiu pulls him closer ever so slightly, enough to be sure of his beating heart, and swears an oath against the rhythm.