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“Are you alright?”
He Xuan’s voice comes from behind where Yin Yu was seated, hunched over at his desk, his brush beginning to droop in his tired hand.
“Hm? Yes, I’m fine,” Yin Yu responds. He suppresses a yawn, gripping the brush with more conviction and pushing his crooked mask up. “When did you get here?”
“A few minutes ago. I stopped to talk to Crimson Rain, but he was… occupied.” He Xuan wanders closer to the desk, leaning over to see what Yin Yu was writing. His scent drifts over Yin Yu, the scent of the sea after a storm.
Occupied. That meant Hua Cheng’s husband was staying over, and the Lord of Ghost City was pulling out all the elaborate stops to entertain him.
“Hmm. That seems about right,” Yin Yu replies absently. He tilts his head, scanning the documents on his desk, trying to determine if the handwriting was still legible. It’s difficult to tell in the flickering orange light cast by the candle on his desk.
“It seems unfair, that you’re locked up in here doing work and Crimson Rain is enjoying himself,” He Xuan informs him. He inches closer again and, when Yin Yu says nothing, slides to sit behind him on the chair. Yin Yu scoots forward and lets He Xuan loop his arms around his middle, feeling the ghost’s head rest between his shoulder blades.
He’s not… warm. He never is; he’s a ghost, unable to retain body heat. He has no body to speak of.
Yin Yu has long since found that he doesn’t mind in the slightest. The cool touch of his lover, as steady as the pulse of the tides being moved by the moon, is better than any of the fiery passion he hears mortals speak of in hushed, reverent tones.
“It’s fine, I don’t mind,” Yin Yu tells him. He’s decided that this document is fine, so he shifts it over to a small pile of finished papers, reaching over for a new one from a pile thrice as large.
“Is that- how long have you been sitting here?” He Xuan demands.
Softly, he clears his throat, brush already in motion. He focuses on the black ink casting familiar curving characters across the page. “Just an hour or two.”
“You’re lying,” He Xuan responds. His voice holds no true accusation.
“Well,” Yin Yu says, “it shouldn’t be much longer.”
“Untrue,” He Xuan replies, and Yin Yu has no argument, only dipping his brush into the small glass inkpot, already half-empty.
They remain in a comfortable silence for a while longer. He Xuan tightens his hold on his partner, leaning up to rest his head on Yin Yu’s shoulder. His breath is cold against Yin Yu’s cheek and he shivers, though he doesn’t find it unpleasant.
“I’ll make you a deal.”
Yin Yu laughs quietly, moving another finished document to the second pile. “We’re making deals now?”
He Xuan pokes his side lightly before continuing. “If you eat dinner, I’ll help you with your work.”
He pretends to ponder this. “It sounds like you’re getting the short end of the deal.”
“What makes you say that? If my beloved is taking good care of himself, it’s a good deal for me,” He Xuan insists.
“Beloved?” Yin Yu teases, and He Xuan sighs, mock-hurt.
“Leave me alone. What do you say?” he asks, eagerness beginning to filter into his voice.
Yin Yu loves this side of him, when they’re alone and his cold mask of indifference slips off, letting warmth shine through. It feels a bit like drowning and being saved, getting lost in this other side of the ghost king.
“Alright,” Yin Yu decides, not wanting this feeling to fade anytime soon.
“Then I’m going to go make you some food.” He Xuan sits up, releasing Yin Yu and leaving his spot.
Yin Yu immediately misses the comfortable weight of his partner, reaching out unconsciously to grip the corner of his sleeve.
“I’ll be right back,” is He Xuan’s easy reassurance. With a small smile, he leans down and presses a soft kiss to Yin Yu’s forehead before Yin Yu lets him go, watching him walk away.
The subtle, happy bounce in his every step makes letting He Xuan go all the more worth it.
— ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ —
Yin Yu’s beginning to nod off again when he hears soft footsteps and the quiet clinking of jade utensils against one another.
He lifts his head up, shaking off his small aches and clearing the desk in front of him. The papers are moved safely out of the way. He decides against cleaning the brush; he won’t be eating for long enough for the bristles to stiffen, right?
Wrong.
“Xiao-yue… were you falling asleep?” He Xuan asks. His sharp features are softened by the kind smile on his face as he sets a tray down. “I stole some of Crimson Rain’s nice utensils. Try not to break them. Well, actually, if you break them, he can just add it to my tab.”
Yin Yu’s only half-listening to his partner’s easygoing chatter, his attention focused on the dish in front of him.
“This is-”
“Hm? Ah… Do you remember when I asked you what your favorite food was?”
That had been years ago, during a somewhat awkward encounter before they’d become acquainted. Hua Cheng had summoned them both down for a discussion. Yin Yu couldn’t even remember what they’d been talking about; he’d admittedly spent a lot of the time studying He Xuan’s face. When Hua Cheng had left suddenly, his only instructions to the pair that they stay put, neither of them had known what to do. Yin Yu was going to resign himself to an indeterminable amount of time spent in silence, but He Xuan had suddenly spoken up. The memory was foggy, but he vaguely recalls something about a stall in Ghost City with the best meat skewers. Not knowing what to say, he’d only nodded. He Xuan had gone silent for a few moments before asking what Yin Yu’s own favorite food was.
He hadn’t meant to speak so much, but the question had sparked memories of fond meals shared with his fellow trainees when he was younger.
When Yin Yu snapped back into the moment, his only saving grace was that his mask covered his bright blush and that Hua Cheng returned at that exact moment. He’d torn his gaze away from He Xuan to watch Hua Cheng reclaim his seat, so quickly that he’d missed the small, fond smile on He Xuan’s face.
“You remember that?” Yin Yu asks, stunned. He picks up a spoon, dragging it through the beautifully golden broth.
“Of course I do. I had a crush on you back then, you know,” He Xuan informs Yin Yu. He pulls a stool over to sit beside Yin Yu, one hand propping up his chin as he watches the other eat.
It tastes just like he remembers, salty with a slight hint of sweetness. The memories come flooding back; he swears he can hear the sound of laughter a table over, the clanging of dropped utensils, the chatter of a shixiong to a shidi nearby.
Yin Yu blinks the bittersweet tears from his eyes quickly, ducking his head down as he spoons another bite. His grin is back on full force and he holds the bite out to He Xuan. “Say ‘ahh’.”
He Xuan makes a face. “I’m not hungry.”
“You? Not hungry? He Xuan, please?”
“Why? I made that for you.”
“And I want to share. Please?”
“No.”
“I’m not letting you help with the paperwork, then,” Yin Yu says. He tilts the spoon towards him and raises his eyebrows. He Xuan pulls another sour expression before opening his mouth.
“Isn’t it good?” Yin Yu asks happily, taking another bite for himself.
“Are you asking me to compliment my own cooking?” He Xuan grumbles, but he’s smiling. “Now, pass me that brush and some papers. You can finish eating.”
“Hm? You won’t just keep me company?”
“I’m here, aren’t I? Isn’t that enough company?”
Though his voice is teasing, Yin Yu stops and considers this.
“You’re right. Just being here is enough.”
Suddenly embarrassed, Yin Yu looks away and stirs his soup, so quickly that he never catches sight of He Xuan’s small, fond smile from a crush long ago requited returning.