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The day Pu Yiyong wakes up, Cao Guangyan comes sliding upstairs on socked feet and stares at him for what feels like years before lurching through the door of his room and falling at his bedside. “You’re back!” he says, relief crashing through him like a wave, clutching at Yiyong’s hand like he’s afraid he’ll disappear back into the depths at any second. Yiyong, propped up with pillows and already anticipating the fresh hell physical therapy will wreak on his weakened body, just looks at him.
“Say something,” Guangyan says, squeezing his hand anxiously. He’s had dreams like this before, where Yiyong wakes up but isn’t really there, where he just sits silently until he dissolves into fine ash like one of the spirits he helps free. He’s pretty sure he’s awake right now, but what if he isn’t?
“You’re noisy,” Yiyong says finally, and Guangyan’s shoulders slump.
“Noisy!” he says, “You had me so worried! I cried! Chuying-jie cried!”
Yiyong mutters something under his breath and Guangyan ignores it, digging in his pocket for his phone with his free hand. Whatever he was going to do with it gets derailed, however, because Yiyong grabs for it as soon as he sees the drawing in the case.
“Where did you get this?” he asks, waving the phone in Guangyan’s face. Guangyan snatches it back and clutches it to his chest.
“One of your old notebooks,” he says, “Your mom showed them to me.”
“Why,” Yiyong says, groaning. “That’s so embarrassing.”
“It’s not embarrassing,” Guangyan says defensively. “It’s a sign of your pure heart.”
“My what, ” Yiyong says, brow wrinkling.
“Nevermind,” Guangyang says impatiently, “I’ve been waiting for you to come back and finish your comic.”
“Why,” Yiyong says again. “It’s so bad.”
“It’s not bad! It's full of youthful spirit!”
Yiyong stares at him. Guangyan shifts uncomfortably but his chin comes up, defiant.
“It’s your dream,” he says. “That’s worth something.”
“I don’t want it anymore,” Yiyong says, shaking his head. “It was a stupid dream.”
“It’s not stupid,” Guangyan insists, squeezing Yiyong’s hand again. “It’s unique. It’s brave.”
“What,” Yiyong says, “You aren’t making any sense today.”
“I’m making plenty of sense,” Guangyan says, putting on his patient doctor voice. “It’s something you wanted for yourself. Something that you wanted to do regardless of what anyone expected of you. That makes it special.”
Silence.
“It’s what got my dad killed,” Yiyong says finally, nearly inaudibly. “Because I was up late drawing.”
“Oh, Yiyong, no,” Guangyan says, leaning in to look earnestly into his eyes. “It wasn’t your fault. No one could have predicted it.”
“If we’d been on the earlier bus we could have avoided it.”
Guangyan shakes his head. “You don’t know that,” he says firmly. “And you can’t change it even if you did.”
Yiyong doesn’t reply, but he does look Guangyan in the eye, which is good enough.
“If you really don’t want to do it anymore,” Guangyan says, “I’ll support whatever you do want to do too.”
Yiyong nods, gaze wandering down somewhere into the sheets. It takes Guangyan a moment to realize what he’s looking at. They’re still holding hands.
Guangyan flushes but doesn’t pull away, big eyes going bright and focused. “I missed you,” he says. “I was so scared…” when you weren’t breathing, he doesn’t say. He still dreams about that sometimes, Yiyong bleeding and still beneath his hands no matter how he screams or tries to revive him. Sometimes he has to sneak over in the middle of the night to reassure himself that no, Yiyong is still breathing, still there. And now he’s awake, and it’s time to be brave. Guangyan had promised: as long as Yiyong woke up, he wouldn’t let himself have any more regrets.
“You’re weird today,” Yiyong mumbles, voice still quiet.
“I’m happy,” Guangyan says, grip on Yiyong’s hand tightening again. “Because you’re back.”
“Okay,” Yiyong says.
“I don’t want to be without you again, ever,” Guangyan presses on, gaze boring into the side of Yiyong’s face. He can do this. He can.
Yiyong clicks his tongue. “You sound like you’re proposing to a girl,” he says, free hand fidgeting with the coverlet.
“You’re not a girl,” Guangyan says. “But it can be a proposal if you want.”
That gets Yiyong to look at him again finally. “Huh?”
“I mean it,” Guangyan says, talking fast now because he’s afraid he’ll lose his nerve if he doesn’t. “I’ve had a lot of time to think, and you… you’re important to me. The most important, besides my dad. I can’t lose you.”
“Do you even know what you’re talking about?” Yiyong asks, but he’s not pulling away, or acting disgusted, or hitting Guangyan in the face, so Guangyan figures that means it’s going about as well as a sudden post-coma confession can.
“I do,” he says. “You know I already ignore girls for you all the time?”
Yiyong blinks. “What, really?”
“Yeah. Because you’re important, and they aren’t. I mean, they’re my friends, mostly, but I don’t care about them the way I care about you. They don’t care about me the way you do.”
“I do, huh?” Yiyong says and he’s got that look on his face that means he’s not sure if he’s being made fun of or not.
“You do,” Guangyan says. “You care about me as a person. They just like me because I’m a good student or they think I’ll make a good husband because I’m going to be a doctor.”
Yiyong scoffs. “You? A good husband?”
“I can,” Guangyan says. “I’ll be one if you want me to be.”
“Oh my god,” Yiyong says, and Guangyan scoots closer, squeezing at his hand.
“Sorry if you think this is weird or gross,” he says. “We can pretend I never said anything if you want.” It’ll be hard and it’ll suck, but Guangyan can do it. He’s done his best.
“It’s not gross,” Yiyong mutters, eyes sliding away from Guangyan’s face again. “It’s just. It’s a lot, you know? I have so much to catch up on.”
Guangyan’s shoulders relax. “Yeah, sorry. I was just afraid I’d chicken out if I didn’t say it now.”
“I just need some time,” Yiyong says, and Guangyan nods. “I’m not. I’m not saying no, okay? I’m…”
Guangyan sits up straighter, eyes widening.
“I’m not saying yes either! I’m saying I’ll think about it,” Yiyong says, looking at Guangyan out of the corner of his eyes the way he does when he’s not sure about something.
“Okay,” Guangyan says. “Thank you for taking me seriously.” On impulse, he brings their joined hands up to his face and brushes his lips over Yiyong’s knuckles.
Footsteps sound on the steps and they jump apart like they’ve been stung. By the time Yiyong’s mother appears with a tray of drinks, they’re both red and at opposite ends of the bed.
“Are you all right?” Ye Baosheng says, and Guangyan nods rapidly, accepting the glass she offers him.
“It’s just warm,” he says, gulping down the barley tea.
“We’re fine, ma,” Yiyong says and she gives him a look but leaves without saying anything else.
“I’ve already heard someone calling for help,” Yiyong says after a moment and Guangyan straightens up, leaning in.
“Tell me about it,” he says immediately.
“So there’s this voice...”