Work Text:
When Gaming first stumbled upon Xingqiu slumped over his desk, cheek smooshed against an open book and a small puddle of drool pooling on the pages, his first instinct was to laugh. He had assumed Xingqiu had pulled yet another all-nighter. After all, Xingqiu's late-night reading habits were as predictable as summer rain in Liyue harbor.
Just like he'd been instructed to do in these situations (because of course this happens often enough to warrant a protocol), Gaming approached the sleeping boy, ready to haul his Xingqiu-shaped sack of potatoes to bed and actual bed. Just another day in the life of dating a guy with severe bedtime aversion, right?
Wrong. Oh so terribly, horrifyingly wrong.
The second his hand made contact with Xingqiu's shoulder, Gaming flinched away as if he had been burned. Which, to be fair, wasn't far off the mark.
He was HOT. Far too hot. Even through his gloves, the heat radiating off Xingqiu's skin was downright alarming.
Xingqiu tends to run pretty cold to the touch. His slight frame struggles to retain heat no matter how many layers he piled on. Gaming has lost count of how many times he found himself serving as Xingqiu's personal space heater, not that he was complaining.
Now, though? He was a raging inferno that put even Chongyun's most yang-addled episodes to shame.
That was eight days ago.
Eight. Days.
Eight days of watching his beloved fight against the fluid in his lungs for each rasping breath. Eight days of useless medications that might as well have been sugar water for all the good they did. Eight days of hovering at Xingqiu's bedside, terrified to so much as blink in case Xingqiu takes a turn for the worse.
And doctor Baizhu, in all his infinite wisdom, had the audacity to call Xingqiu's illness 'nothing but a bad flu.' A stress-induced weakening of the immune system, whatever that's supposed to mean.
Just a bad flu? Yeah, and Gaming's the fucking Pyro Archon. Pull the other one, it's got bells on.
A bad flu doesn't leave someone as tenacious as Xingqiu damn near catatonic. He's seen Xingqiu power through month-long writing binges fueled by nothing but spite and caffeine. There's no way a simple flu could have this much of an effect on him.
This... this is something else entirely.
Something that makes Gaming's blood run cold every time Xingqiu's body shudders violently during fitful bouts of sleep. Something that's left Xingqiu choking on his own phlegm after particularly vicious coughing fits. Something that stripped away the meat on his bones after days of being too sick to keep down more than a few sips of water at a time.
And then Baizhu had the gall to kick him out of the room. Apparently, hovering at his boyfriend's bedside was 'obtrusive.' With all due respect, Baizhu can take his 'professional opinion' and shove it right where the sun don't shine.
Gaming slumps against the wall outside Xingqiu's room, a growl of frustration clawing its way out of his throat. He wants to argue, he desperately wants to argue, but he knows that won't fix anything. Instead, he lets his head thunk back against the wall, closing his eyes against the sting of frustrated tears.
What he wouldn't give for one of Xingqiu's teasing smiles right now. For the warmth of those amber eyes, bright with mischief and glee. For the familiar weight of Xingqiu curled against his side, nose buried in yet another book as he forces Gaming to read with him. He'd read the entire book, if it just means Xingqiu would get better.
But no. Instead, he's out here in this too quiet hallway, listening to the muffled sounds of Baizhu puttering around Xingqiu's sickroom. Useless. Helpless.
Gaming's fists clench at his sides, nails biting crescents into his palms.
It... It can't happen again, can it?
No. No. No, Xingqiu will be just fine. Baizhu is a genius, even by immortal standards. All he has to do is sit tight. Just sit tight and wait. That's not too hard, right? Nothing will—
The door to Xingqiu's room clicks open, snapping Gaming out of his musings. He glances up to see Baizhu stepping out of the room, sliding the door quietly shut behind him.
"Doctor Baizhu-"
"He's fine, Gaming," Baizhu replies, forestalling Gaming's question. "As I've said before, with ample rest and time, Xingqiu will make a full recovery."
"But... but it's been—"
"Eight days, yes," Baizhu heaves an exasperated sigh. It makes Gaming feel so small. "The young master's illness is certainly a stubborn one, but even the worst illnesses run their course. Give him time, Gaming."
"I don't..." Gaming's tries and fails to choke down the words bubbling to the surface. "I can't just... He..."
Changsheng chooses then to make herself known, hissing in what seems to be displeasure. Luckily enough, though, she doesn't say anything, just peering up at Gaming through her slitted gaze.
Right... right.
"Sorry for being a bother..." Gaming says at last, averting his gaze. "I just... wanted to check in on him."
"If it will ease your mind, then I am fine with it. But do remember, I have other patients who require my care," Baizhu says, tapping a finger to his chin. "Do try not to hover. I believe I've given you instructions?"
Gaming nods. Every word was crystal clear in his memory.
Baizhu takes his leave after that, the sound of his footsteps slowly disappearing down the hall.
Gaming takes a deep breath, gathering his resolve as he places a trembling hand on the door and gently slides it open.
The room is just as dark and silent as he finally slips inside, soft afternoon light creeping in through the bedroom window, illuminating the figure of its sole occupant, curled up on his side beneath the sheets.
If not for the steady rise and fall of his chest, Gaming wouldn't have guessed Xingqiu was merely sleeping. He seemed so small. So fragile. The bags under his eyes, now too pronounced against his wan complexion, do little to ease Gaming's fears.
Slowly, as not to disturb his beloved's much needed rest, Gaming creeps over to his spot next to the bed, kneeling down so he and Xingqiu are nearly eye level. Up this close, he can feel the furnace-like heat radiating from Xingqiu's flushed skin in waves.
After so long without his daily dose of Xingqiu sweetness, Gaming feels like a man starved. It takes every shred of his self-control not to pounce on the sleeping boy, pinning him to the bed and cuddling the sickness right out of him.
...Except Baizhu told him not to, so suffice to say, his Xingqiu cuddle privileges have temporarily been revoked. Boo.
"Hey there, qiuqiu," Gaming whispers, laying his hand as gently as he could on Xingqiu's overheated forehead. "You feeling alright?"
Of course, there's no response.
"Xiangling said she'd try to come by soon with some soup. You know how tasty her cooking is, so you'll have to find your appetite again, okay? Can't have you missing out."
Despite his best efforts, a lump forms in his throat, making it increasingly difficult to speak. It's not hard to catch the slight tremor in his voice, but Gaming barrels on regardless.
"And Chongyun came by earlier, if you didn't catch him. Brought some kind of icy blue water-y tonic. Said it would cool you down. And it did! Only for a little bit though."
For a moment, he leans his forehead on the edge of Xingqiu's pillow, desperate to blink away the tears welling up. He'd promised himself he wouldn't cry over this.
...But giving in just this once can't hurt, right?
"...Please," He whimpers. Begs, really. Begs the archons to spare Xingqiu's life. Just this once. Please... He can't lose anyone else.
He slumps forward, resting his forehead against their joined hands. Xingqiu's pulse thrums steadily beneath his hands. That, at least, provides him with some comfort.
In those final days before she passed, his mother's heartbeat had been almost undetectable. He remembers all too vividly how frail she'd looked in that bed, a far cry from the warm, steady woman who'd wrapped him in her loving arms and chased away all his nightmares. Even then, that empty shell of a body still felt warm when she hugged him for the last time.
He finds himself clutching Xingqiu's hand tighter. Every beat of Xingqiu's heart is measured and even, a steady and constant reminder that he's still here. Warm. Alive. With him.
Gaming hadn't noticed himself drifting off until something tickles his nose, as faint as a feather, yet still managing to jolt him out of his sleep-deprived haze. He blinks, disoriented, only to find himself staring into a pair of familiar liquid-gold eyes.
For a moment, he forgets how to breathe.
After over a week of nothing but closed lids and not-quite-conscious mumbling, the sight of Xingqiu awake — lucid, even — is almost enough to bring him to tears.
And to top it all off, he's got a soft smile on his face, eyes sparkling brighter than the morning sun cresting over the harbor. He blinks slowly, head tilting ever so slightly to nuzzle against Gaming's palm.
"You look horrible, my dear." He says, his words, though a bit weak and scratchy, are clear and understandable, and that alone is enough to make Gaming want to sob in relief.
"Xingqiu..." His voice cracks, thick with emotions he has no energy to put words to.
Xingqiu tries to respond, only for the attempt to dissolve into a violent fit of coughing that wracks his now frail body. Gaming rushes forward and wraps his arms around Xingqiu, propping him up so the coughing wouldn't be so painful, so harsh.
As the coughing finally subsides, Xingqiu slumps against Gaming's chest, utterly spent.
"Mm... sorry..." Xingqiu whispers, voice hoarse and cracking at the edges.
"Don't... don't worry about it," Gaming shakes his head, brushing off the apology. "How are you feeling?"
"...Everything," Xingqiu croaks out after a breath, "all at once."
Xingqiu shifts weakly in his grasp, pressing his forehead against the crook of Gaming's neck. His skin is clammy, and hair plastered to his face in damp ringlets. Each labored breath is a painful reminder of his illness, but he's here, he's awake, and for now, that's enough.
"...I'm bored."
The petulant grumble is so soft Gaming nearly misses it. That is, until he looks down to see Xingqiu honest-to-gods pouting at him, brows furrowed and lips pursed.
That's what does it.
Gaming's laughter is borderline hysterical as days of pent-up anxiety finally spill over. Tears of relief stream down his face, but he doesn't bother trying to stop them. His Xingqiu, his precious beloved Xingqiu is okay and that's all that matters.
"What's so funny?"
"O-oh, I don't know," Gaming says between peals of laughter, "You wake up after a week long coma, and one of the first things to come out of your mouth is that you're bored? Did the fever cook your brain?"
"Oh, hush you. I'm simply being honest." Xingqiu grumbles with mock offense, poking Gaming's cheeks with an outstretched finger. Then, he lets out a long sigh. "I can't recall the last time I spent so long lying idle in one place..."
"Xingqiu?"
Xingqiu opens his eyes to meet Gaming's gaze. A faint, teasing smile toys at his lips. "Hmm? What is it, my love?"
The pet name sends a full-body shudder through him, one that has nothing to do with his earlier dread and everything to do with the overwhelming adoration and relief he feels.
"I missed you."
There's a new, heavy tightness in Gaming's chest as he speaks. Suddenly, the weight of everything hits him like an arrow to the heart. Every frantic request he has bombarded upon Baizhu, the sleepless nights and silent prayers, the gut-wrenching fear that maybe, just maybe, he'd lose two people to sickness instead of one.
He's so exhausted.
"Missed me? But I've been right here this whole time."
Gaming makes a strange strangled noise as Xingqiu nuzzles into his shoulder, arms wrapping as tight as they can around Gaming's waist (which, admittedly, isn't very tight).
"Read to me?" Xingqiu asks as he bats his clumpy, wet eyelashes, and Gaming nearly breaks his neck with how fast he nods.
Like he has to ask for anything at this point.
After selecting a random novel from Xingqiu's obscenely large collection, Gaming settles back onto the bed. Xingqiu immediately curls into his side, head pillowed on Gaming's chest as if it's the most natural thing in the world.
And for the first time in over a week, Gaming allows himself to breathe easy.