Work Text:
Step, step, step, stumble.
Shaky step, unsteady step, wavering step, fall.
Jiaoqiu cursed under his breath as he leaned on the street lamp in Luofu. Slowly, he lifted himself. His determination was starting to fade, slipping away through his fingers, like grains of fine sand that could cut even the most solid rocks.
Step, step, step, step.
He couldn’t help but wonder if his attempts were inherently futile. Why was he even trying? Blindness was a fair price for the possibility of wriggling out of the jaws of death and destruction itself. Life comes at a price – as a healer, he knew it better than anyone else.
“What are you doing?” a gruff voice said, grabbing Jiaoqiu under his arm and offering a welcome support. If Jiaoqiu could, he’d give Moze a long look.
“Don’t mind me. I’m merely being a hopeful fool,” Jiaoqiu chuckled light-heartedly. He knew that Moze frowned at his words. The other man always hid his concerns and worries behind his scowls. Back then, it never ceased to amuse Jiaoqiu. As of now, his attitude was heartwarming, reminding him of the old days of their companionship.
“Fool, huh?” Moze hummed. His grip on Jiaoqiu tightened as he helped him to get up. “You should not be moving in your condition, let alone walking around the city.”
Jiaoqiu smiled at his apparent emotion. He’d grown accustomed to every one of his intonations and gestures during their years together. “I am a healer, Moze. I can sensibly assess my condition.”
“Doesn’t look very sensible to me,” Moze scoffed.
“I know you’re trying not to smile now,” Jiaoqiu laughed softly, holding onto Moze for stability.
“I’m trying not to kick your injudicious ass.”
“Now, now, you would never hurt a blind man, would you?”
Moze couldn’t suppress a quiet snicker that erupted from his throat.
Jiaoqiu forced himself into insomnia. Brain congestion was a small price to pay for not having dreams. Yet every time silence fell in the room where Jiaoqiu was resting, his ears began to ring. A low, raucous voice, laced with malice and taunt, was always making its way through the buzz, as a constant reminder of Jiaoqiu's weakness and inability to save anyone.
“Look what you’ve done, little foxian.”
“This is but a result of your ill-considered decision.”
“ A meal is here."
He would open his eyes to see an all-consuming, sticky blackness, a dark beyond dark. His neck and chest burned, as he felt how ravening, carnivorous fangs mauled him over and over again, tearing into his flesh and relishing the taste of his blood.
If gaining victory meant sacrificing a single person’s life, he wouldn’t hesitate to expose his neck to these fangs again to save others.
“I’ve never tasted flesh as sweet as yours.”
Jiaoqiu exhaled sharply, waking up from a slumber. His ears picked up on the sound of raspy, throaty breaths. A small chill crept up his core. He could not see the intruder, but he remembered the person who breathed as raspily.
“Who is there? Show yourself!” He tried to control the sound of his voice, hoping it came off as confident and demanding. His breath hitched as a large, furry palm with sharp claws grabbed his throat.
“Little foxian, did you hope your agony has ended?”
He was having trouble breathing. His head was spinning as he went over every possible scenario. Hoolay was dead, wasn't he? Why did the hand that had gripped him seem so familiar?
“I fear no death, Hoolay,” he choked out in the monster’s grip. “Begone, malicious apparition!”
Hoolay laughed dryly. The sound was something in between a howl and a snarl. “Insolent fox. Do you think it is an apparition?”
Jiaoqiu swallowed. His chest heaved as the voice tore through his ears – a mocking, rapacious sound.
“You are dead, Hoolay. This is but a result of your ill-considered actions,” Jiaoqiu spoke hoarsely, mocking the monster’s earlier proclamation. The borisin burst out laughing.
“You’re asking for a long and painful death, and be mindful that I’ll savour every moment of it.”
Jiaoqiu felt like his body was floating. It flew through the air, dense with incense, until it landed with a thud. A bitter taste climbed up his stomach and throat, filling his mouth with foulness. He propped himself up and chuckled mirthlessly, wiping the corner of his lips with the back of his hand. If he was meant to die, he wished to look his murderer in the eye before he landed his final strike.
A pity, his eyes could not see anymore.
Jiaoqiu gasped as he awakened. His ears picked up on the sound of dry, even breaths. They were familiar and calming, bringing tranquillity to his tired mind. His hand groped the sheets before he felt the warmth of a palm.
“Nightmares?” Moze asked. Jiaoqiu sighed. The man had probably never left his side, following him like a shadow. Such loyalty in the face of his disability was heartwrenching.
“Yes,” Jiaoqiu admitted. There was no point in lying, as Moze possessed an annoyingly supernatural ability to pick up on his lies and half-truths. “But it’s gone now. And he’s gone with the nightmare.”
“Hoolay?”
“Yes.”
“Wait here.”
Jiaoqiu was about to joke that he couldn’t see himself elsewhere, but apparently, Moze was already gone. He sighed and propped himself up on the bed, staring into the dark abyss before his eyes. He’d been blindfolded before, yet even then he could see at least a flicker of the light through the dark fabric. Blindness felt different. The darkness enveloped his vision like a starless night, clouding his perception with its pitch-black essence.
A small, shaky breath fell off his lips.
The door creaked open, and he heard the sound of familiar footsteps. Moze approached the bed, and Jiaoqiu's nostrils filled with the scent of something bittersweet. A steaming liquid, probably. With careful motion, Moze brought the bowl to his lips, and Jiaoqiu winced at the hotness that burned his mouth.
“Careful there, Moze,” he murmured. “Or have you decided to deprive me of my sense of taste finally and irrevocably, so I won’t feel bad about my sight?”
“I wouldn’t dare,” Moze said earnestly. It amused Jiaoqiu even more.
“I was jesting. Of course, you wouldn’t, old grump.”
“You’re a handful.” Moze silenced him by bringing a bowl to his lips again. Jiaoqiu couldn’t help chuckling as he swallowed the bitter liquid with a sweet aftertaste. A borisian broth, what an irony. The predator had become a meal.
Warmth spilt across his chest, soothing the pain in the wounds on his torso and throat. Soon, the pain subsided and his unease receded. As he swallowed the thick liquid, he realised how hungry he had been all this time.
After the bowl emptied, he smiled contently.
“Ah,” he let out a satisfied sigh. “Did you cook it yourself?”
He heard how Moze gulped at his question. One of his favourite things ever was to take in this imperturbable assassin squirm.
“I did,” Moze admitted with some reluctance. “Did you enjoy it?”
“Yes. Thank you.” Jiaoqiu flashed him a relaxed smile. He flopped back onto the bed, tucking himself into his tail. He knew Moze was watching him silently. The man was not one to speak much, preferring action over words. These small gestures were his language of affection.
Silence hung in the room, as neither were to speak. Words didn’t need to be said, for actions spoke louder.
“Do you remember our first kiss?” Jiaoqiu asked after a minute of shared silence. Moze choked on his spit from a sudden question, eliciting a quiet giggle from Jiaoqiu.
“I-I do,” Moze stuttered slightly, and Jiaouqiu knew his face was flushed. “The Wild Shore of the Xiangzhou Wanhu, at the dawn. Why do you ask?”
A small smile tugged at Jiaoqiu's lips as he spoke, “I can vividly recall your rosy cheeks.”
“It was the sun’s reflection,” Moze huffed.
“Sure.” Jiaoqiu laughed.
Another minute of shared silence. Then, Jiaoqiu shifted in his bed. He crawled up to Moze and placed his head on his lap. The man’s fingers traded through his hair, slowly rubbing his scalp in soothing circle motions. Jiaoqiu’s expression grew more sombre.
“My lifespan is short compared to yours. What are three hundred years for a Homo celestinae simulacrum? A whiff of a night breeze, a droplet sending ripples on the quiet expanse of water, a beat in a lively conversation.”
He wished he could look up at Moze, whose fingers halted their movements.
“Do you promise to love me until I meet my demise?”
Moze let out a shaky exhale. He almost withdrew his hand but decided otherwise at the last moment. Slowly, he combed his fingers through Jiaoqiu's locks, soothing the foxian.
“I promise.”
A wistful smile graced Jiaoqiu’s lips. He leaned into the warm touch of his lover, relaxing his tense body.
“Thank you, Moze.”
Only then did the dream swallow him up, enveloping him in an invisible shroud and giving him peace of mind.