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Gray and metallic blue is all he remembers from back then.
Before the cold feeling of being alone, before the cold metallic floor, before the feeling of being watched constantly, before the heated discussions about him, before knowing he was alive, those two colors plagued his existence.
He smelled them all around him before even opening his eyes again, and he knew something was wrong right then. Moments of a past life pass behind his eyelids like flashes of mistakes and joys shared with people he doesn’t know if he recognizes anymore. He’s so confused and scared already and he still hasn’t started breathing.
He’s scared to open his eyes, so he doesn’t. He waits until most of them leave and, even then, he's still terrified to see what he will be met with. Anxiety builds up inside of him and he lets out quiet sobs, notifying a couple of people still in the room of his newborn existence. He hears footsteps and a few calls, but he doesn't pay attention to them.
He just wants to stop feeling cold. He wants to feel something– anything– close to him, telling him he's not alone. He wants to stop seeing that gray fog full of metallic blue sparks flying behind his eyes.
He doesn't care about whatever he gets told afterwards, not even when they put him back into his cell.
He doesn't care about his fate when they tell him they'll just abandon him in space due to all the mistakes he's done that he barely remembers.
He doesn't care when the fragment of a man in his memories searches for vengeance. He tries to survive, but nothing more than that.
He doesn't care about his memories. Nothing causing him this much pain is worth being remembered, he decides. It's better if he lives for who he is now, instead of who he used to be.
Maybe that self would have wanted something different. Unfortunately, he doesn't care.
For a long time, he feels those emotions in the same way, but he doesn’t have another choice. He knows next to nothing of himself, his past life or the people he knew. All he has are fragments, and they're barely enough to paint a sketch of what the reality must have been.
Sometimes, he heard a voice that echoed sweet words, calm and warm, deep and affectionate, gentle and light. He wonders who even has that kind of solemnity and warmth to their voice.
“I will always come back to you, Dan Feng,” it said, followed by a light laughter.
His past life must have had someone important, he thinks. It's the only sweet, vocal thing in his memories, at first. Others came later, but that sentence was special.
Dan Feng kept it locked, safe and sound, and he would always hear it whenever he needed it the most.
He must have been very special.
That's all he can think about, and all of a sudden he starts feeling bitterness rise inside of him, simply because he doesn't know if that sentence that has relieved so much suffering for him still holds true.
It holds so much meaning with so little words, effectively dissipating the fog for a few seconds and letting him feel the warmth of the sun on his skin and quiet, light summer breeze.
The fact that this person might never say these words for him now is something that he can't bear to think about.
So, he doesn't. He chooses to give up on that comfort too.
The gray, dense fog embraces him again and he trembles at the feeling, angry voices echoing in his mind instead of the soft, warm, loving voice he's been unconsciously getting to know without even being aware of who the owner of said voice was.
He cries, and cries, and cries, but no one answers. No one can now, and it's a fault he will have to bear for what he's done.
—
Dan Heng opens his eyes all of a sudden, realizing he's been panting for a while. He doesn't know for how long, but apparently it wasn't enough to wake up the person next to him, at least.
He turns to look at Jing Yuan, peacefully sleeping with an arm around him and his mouth barely parted, his breath even and silent. He smiles at the sight, fully knowing that only he has seen him like this.
The gentle sunlight on his cheeks, the calm breeze on his skin, the warmth of a fire lit in the night inside of him, the sensation of lying on the grass as the sun is rising… that is the painting he sees now.
Instead of an incomplete puzzle he doesn't understand or a cold, metallic cloud following his every step, that's the beautiful painting he's lucky enough to both witness and be a part of, every single day.
He hugs him and buries his head in his shoulder, brushing his face lightly on his skin, as if to search for a warmer surface to rest on.
That's when he realizes he shifted to his Imbibitor Lunae form without meaning to, probably because of the dream he just had. He's not fully certain of it, or if the things he's seen are his memories or part of it are fantasies his brain formed while he slept, but it surely wasn't nice to go through.
Despite that, he doesn't think of it as a nightmare.
He's had nightmares, and those were so much more frightening and anxiety inducing than what he just had. Maybe it was a light one, but, somewhere inside of him, he can still hear Jing Yuan's voice, the same that he remembers hearing earlier in his life, and now he knows his doubts were baseless.
It is true that Jing Yuan loved Dan Feng, but it is also true that he loves Dan Heng now. He had always valued him as his own person, rather than a shadow of the one he loved. He immediately recognized his wishes to be called with his own name, and loved that self just as much as the one before.
He's full of a radiance of his own, much like the sun and stars lighting a path for everyone else to follow during the day and the black night. He's not surprised to find out Dan Feng fell in love with a person like this. Anyone would have.
He is, anyway.
Unlike him, he's always felt like the moon– reflecting someone else's light, helping the stars to make those dark nights shine for every being who needed it. He felt like aid to someone else, mirroring someone else's light, rather than his own self emitting one of his own.
Lately, though, Jing Yuan has been insisting on the contrary.
“I do not believe the moon is only aid to the sun,” he said a couple of days ago, “I think it just helps it do its job in the moments when it cannot be present. The same happens in reverse, as well. They are complementary forces, they can't exist without each other.”
He thought then that he was referring to him as well, other than it being simple small talk about astrology.
One without the other, half as fair.
That sentence rings in his mind, thinking again about the thing that Jing Yuan keeps repeating whenever he doubts his worth in this new relationship they shared. Sometimes, he thinks it was destiny who just orchestrated all this, from their meeting until now, and he's just a pawn in someone else's hands. Another part of him believes their meeting may have been destiny, but their own choices were their own and no one else's.
He will never know the truth, probably, and he's fine with that knowledge.
His horns glow for an instant, his tail moves without any directive for that same imperceptible second, still not waking up Jing Yuan.
Dan Heng could just make them both disappear and go back to sleep, he doesn't even know why he's still awake thinking about a thousand possibilities and scenarios and echoes ringing in his mind in the first place.
He raises his head and rests a hand on Jing Yuan's cheek, rubbing his thumb on his skin, as delicately as possible. In response, the general lets out a soft whine and tries to hide his face, much like a cat.
Dan Heng smiles at the sight and places a quick kiss on his head, between his hair, as he lets him rub his head between his neck and shoulder.
He will probably wake up soon, but the fact doesn't bother Dan Heng. He is sorry he may have woken him up too, but he wants to hear his voice again now.
He hears another whine, and Dan Heng smiles again, this time with affection painted all over his face, as hard and decisive strokes of warm yellow paint start forming around them, with splashes of watercolor in orange and warm pink joining in.
His voice always painted such beautiful scenery, no matter in which situation. Hearing his warm tone, soft but solemn timbre and deep voice has always been enough for him to dive into these masterpieces made only of colors and emotions.
Dan Heng watches him from above as he stretches again, this time because he's about to wake up, and he treasures the domesticity and normalcy of that moment.
“Dan Heng?” Jing Yuan finally whispers, with a raspy, deep voice.
Strokes of blue as deep as the undiscovered seas of the universe paint the space above them, intrinsically different from that metallic blue plaguing his existence all those years ago. It’s brighter, hopeful, shining through the dark of the room, almost transparent. It’s everything he wished to feel way back then.
“I’m fine.” He mutters, kissing him on his cheek. “Go back to sleep.”
Jing Yuan smiles, evidently content of the gesture. “You woke up for a reason.”
It reads like worry, but he says it in such a tired tone that it ceases being only that and looks like something else altogether. Dan Heng isn't sure of what it is, but he finds it endearing.
Those thoughts let splashes of soft orange and deep green decorate the room, and they all felt like raindrops on his skin during a hot summer day– cold, in theory, but the warmth of the sun and air around it make it feel warmer than it should be.
“I woke up because I was cold. I'm not anymore.” He explains, wrapping his arms around his body.
It's true. He was cold. All those memories were hard to remember, and they were all mirroring the freezing, dark night he would have to stand in, alone. Remembering them is like experiencing everything through a veil of an ice sheet and watching them through dense smog. He hated not being able to feel the warmth he grew accustomed to.
“Did you have a nightmare?” Jing Yuan asks, his voice finally starting to get rid of the hoarse tone.
Dan Heng plops his head on his shoulder and lets him hold his hand, pondering on what to tell him. It's not a nightmare, and he's sure he doesn't need a reminder of how much he's been suffering even when he was in his direct protection.
“Just memories echoing.” He settles on, raising his head again. He then motions towards the horns. “Is this a problem?”
Jing Yuan reserves a kind and relaxed smile for him, without letting go of his hand and not touching anything that he wasn't vocally being allowed to. The horns were off-limits for Dan Heng, and he knows he can't touch them as he pleases. Not yet, at least.
“Not at all.” His voice comes, “Dan Feng refused to change form, and I didn't love him any less. The same statement can be made for you.”
Of course, he knows he has no problems with it. He never did. He's just anxious because he has never shifted forms while he slept, but he's happy it was with him.
It's so easy to be around him as Imbibitor Lunae too. He trusts him that he will always see him as his own person, in any circumnstance. High Elder or not, the next life of Dan Feng or not, Jing Yuan will always see him as Dan Heng and love him for who he is.
That's everything he hopes to have faith in.
“I don't feel on edge if you’re the one with me.” He blurts out, almost in need to tell him what he's thinking.
“I’m glad to hear.” He smiles again, and his face then is so kind and pretty Dan Heng can't help but smile back.
All those feelings mix up the painting around them without destroying it, almost like trying to bring something else to life. Colors end in each other, water streaming all around them to dilute them, forming new colors and combinations, varying the softness between colors.
It all mixes up, forming a water paint of all the colors that Jing Yuan brought into his life.
It's only after a while that he realizes that his mind actually sparkled his cloudhymn magic, making it rain in the room. Specifically, on Jing Yuan's face.
He looks at him again, horrified this time, but he sees him wearing yet another smile. It's loving and calm, his golden eyes reflecting the amount of adoration he has for him whenever he looks at him.
“Mhm, I love you as well.” He whispers, reaching out for a kiss.
Dan Heng lets him, but only because he was so taken aback by the sheer affection and patience (or was it selflessness?) that this man possesses. He barely feels his lips on his skin, but he leans in anyway. It’s almost a spontaneous reflex now, whenever Jing Yuan asks or shows he wants to embrace him or give him some other form of affection, he can’t refuse him.
He blinks after the contact leaves him, feeling flowers blooming around him and quickly closing themselves again, causing him to pout. Jing Yuan is about to ask something, but he kisses him instead. It’s both needy and soft, and it is welcomed immediately by the other.
Flowers blossom all over him, petals flying in the air, ultimately resting on a thin veil of water, letting the calm, tiny, imperceptible waves lull them somewhere else for eternity.
A hand moves to rest on Jing Yuan's humid face, still partly wet from the raindrops that fell on his cheeks, nose, forehead and hair. It's still so warm despite that.
When they part, Dan Heng stares at him as he rubs his thumb against his cheek, his eyes full of admiration and what he could just define as love.
Jing Yuan, on his part, reaches out again instead, leaving a quick, light kiss on the tip of his nose.
Dan Heng physically feels his body getting hotter from the embarrassment, while Jing Yuan laughs lightly at his side, whispering something he can't quite hear.
“I’ll…” He starts saying, turning his head from the other man. “Change the bed.”
He moves as quickly as he possibly can, but Jing Yuan pulls him back on the bed, on his body, and hugs him.
“Don’t bother.” He whispers, a yawn making its way out of his lips. “Let us rest for the few hours we have left.”
Dan Heng pouts, still thinking about that last kiss, but he relaxes in his arms soon enough, feeling the tiredness waving back in his body and all the paintings and colors fading to make space for just a general sense of safety.
He falls asleep soon after, his sleep only greeted by the warmth of his lover and the belief that he'll never be unloved or left alone again.
“I will always run back to you, Dan Heng.”
A voice echoes, accompanying him in his slumber, to a future where he'll never feel dark fog on his shoulders or hear the steps of someone waiting to get rid of him.
His present is more than enough to be content for the rest of his endless lives.