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The bustling energy of Aurum Street filled the air as people moved about, their voices blending into a comforting hum. The street, bathed in the golden hues of the evening sun, was alive with the chatter of vendors and pedestrians. For Jiaoqiu, whose world had become one of darkness, the vibrant sounds around him painted a vivid picture of the city’s pulse.
“Ah, Aurum Street… it's always nice to rest your mind with some good food after everything that's happened,” Jiaoqiu mused aloud, his voice soft yet content. “The sounds here are soothing, even if I can’t see them.”
Beside him, Moze walked closely, his gray hair falling in a fringe over his shoulder and his dark violet-cropped hoodie casting a slight shadow. He guided Jiaoqiu through the lively streets, his violet-blue irises scanning their surroundings. “The Trailblazer is certainly a kind soul,” Jiaoqiu added with a quiet hum, smiling as Moze helped him type a message on his phone. They had agreed to eat together after all.
Moze’s deep voice rumbled in response, “He’s worried about your health, you know.” His tone was a mix of concern and determination, reflecting the weight of responsibility he felt.
Jiaoqiu chuckled softly, his face breaking into a gentle smile. “I just can’t picture him willingly eating a coriander-based hot pot. The mere thought of it makes me want to gag,” he said, his laugh light and genuine.
Moze, ever watchful, subtly adjusted his grip, pulling Jiaoqiu closer with a protective arm around his waist. “Careful,” he murmured, his fingers brushing the bandages on his left arm.
Jiaoqiu’s head tilted slightly. “Hm? What’s wrong? Is there something in front of us?” His voice was calm, though curiosity laced his words.
“A steep ladder ahead,” Moze answered, his eyes scanning the uneven ground before them.
Jiaoqiu sighed but didn’t pull away from Moze’s guiding touch. “I’m not that fragile, you know. There’s no need to be this cautious all the time.” His words carried a gentle teasing, though Moze didn’t respond, his focus still on navigating the path.
Jiaoqiu sighed again, a little deeper this time. “Stubborn,” he muttered under his breath, though there was no real bite to the word.
......
Later that evening, the atmosphere inside their shared home took on a cozy, intimate quality. The kitchen, bathed in the warm glow of a single overhead light, was a haven of comforting sounds. The gentle clattering of pots and pans formed a soft, rhythmic backdrop as the savory scent of broth began to fill the small space. Jiaoqiu leaned against the counter, his heightened senses attuned to the symphony of smells and sounds around him. The familiar aroma of simmering broth, the sizzle of ingredients, and the occasional splash of water created a sense of calm and normalcy.
Moze stood beside him, his presence a reassuring anchor amid the activity. His dark violet cropped hoodie and calm demeanor contrasted sharply with the lively bustle of the kitchen.
“How am I supposed to cook like this?” Jiaoqiu asked his tone a mix of amusement and mild frustration. He fumbled with the ingredients, his hands moving hesitantly. The tasks that once felt effortless now seemed like small mountains to climb.
Moze, with his usual decisive efficiency, took charge. “I’ll handle the chopping,” he said, his voice firm but gentle. His actions were a testament to his skill, the knife moving with practiced precision that spoke of countless hours of training. The vegetables fell under his blade with rhythmic regularity, each slice perfectly measured.
Jiaoqiu, though unable to see, felt the comforting presence of Moze’s movements and the occasional brush of his shoulder. “How domestic of you,” Jiaoqiu teased, the corners of his mouth twitching upward in a playful smile. “You must have been a kitchen virtuoso in another life. Or maybe you just have a secret passion for culinary arts.”
Moze’s lips curled slightly at the corner, a rare and faint smile. “Efficient, that’s all. You focus on other things.”
Jiaoqiu chuckled softly, the sound warm and genuine. “I appreciate the help. Watching you work so efficiently makes me wonder if you’ve been moonlighting as a chef when you’re not being a Shadow Guard. What other hidden talents are you keeping from me?”
Moze’s gaze softened as he continued his task. “Secrets are for later. Focus on the broth.”
Jiaoqiu’s laughter was light, almost musical. “Oh, come now. I wouldn’t mind a little danger. Especially if it comes in the form of your cooking. Though, for the record, I’ve cut down on the spices this time. I’m trying to avoid any more fiery incidents.”
Moze nodded, his actions steady and careful. “Noted. Less spice, more taste.”
Jiaoqiu leaned closer, his playful tone matching the warmth of the kitchen. “Maybe a bit of both. I wouldn’t want you to get too comfortable. Besides, how else will I keep you on your toes?”
The two of them worked together in a harmonious rhythm, their movements synchronized as they prepared the meal. The kitchen, filled with the rhythmic sounds of chopping and stirring, became a space of shared moments and gentle banter.
...
As night fell, the tranquility of their earlier moments was shattered by the subtle sounds of distress. The bed rustled intermittently as Jiaoqiu tossed and turned, ensnared in the grip of a vivid nightmare. His breaths came in short, sharp gasps, and his hands clenched the sheets tightly as if trying to tether himself to reality amidst the storm of his dreams.
Moze, who had been quietly folding laundry nearby, immediately sensed the shift in the atmosphere. His acute senses detected Jiaoqiu’s agitation, and he moved swiftly towards the bed. “Jiaoqiu,” he called softly, his voice a low murmur filled with concern. The sound was both grounding and soothing, meant to cut through the haze of Jiaoqiu’s troubled sleep.
Jiaoqiu’s eyes fluttered open, his body trembling as he reached out blindly, his breaths ragged. “Moze… where are you?” he asked, his voice trembling, the remnants of his nightmare clinging to him like an oppressive fog. His hands, roughened from years of healing and touch, flailed in the air until Moze gently took them in his own, the warmth of his touch a stark contrast to the cold fear that had gripped Jiaoqiu.
Sitting down beside Jiaoqiu on the bed, Moze’s presence was a steadying force. His voice, though deep and usually reserved, was now infused with a rare, genuine concern. “It’s getting worse, isn’t it?” he asked, his words tinged with worry.
Jiaoqiu took a moment to gather himself, his breaths coming in uneven bursts. “Yeah…” he admitted quietly, his voice barely more than a whisper. After a pause, he managed a weak smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Why are you here? I thought you were with Feixiao tonight.”
Moze’s response was a low, comforting hum. “She told me to look after you,” he replied simply, his words carrying the weight of both responsibility and deep affection. There was no pretense in his voice, just a sincere desire to be there for Jiaoqiu.
Jiaoqiu chuckled softly, though the sound was faint and tinged with exhaustion. “What are you now, my bodyguard?” he teased, but the joke fell flat, a mere shadow of its usual humor against the backdrop of his fatigue.
Moze didn’t respond with words but tightened his grip on Jiaoqiu’s hands, his gaze fixed on the healer’s face with a rare intensity. After a brief silence, he spoke again, his voice almost hesitant but laden with empathy. “I have nightmares too,” he admitted quietly, the confession a vulnerable peek into his struggles.
Jiaoqiu blinked, surprised by the revelation. “You do?” he asked, his voice barely more than a murmur. The admission made him pause, considering the burdens Moze carried in his way.
Moze nodded, his eyes never leaving Jiaoqiu’s face. “I worry about you. You push yourself too hard. You’re more important than you realize.”
The silence that followed was heavy, filled with unspoken fears and emotions. Jiaoqiu bit his lip, grappling with his insecurities. “You’re staying tonight, right? No missions?”
Moze’s answer was unwavering and firm. “I’m staying.”
Jiaoqiu nodded slowly, a wave of relief washing over him. “Good… then, can you—” his voice faltered slightly, “—hold me? Please?”
Without hesitation, Moze wrapped his arms around Jiaoqiu, pulling him close. The embrace was firm but gentle, offering a cocoon of warmth and security. “Okay,” Moze whispered, his voice soft and reassuring. In the quiet of the night, the room seemed to shrink around them, cocooning them in their shared silence.
As the night stretched on, Jiaoqiu and Moze held each other close, their embrace weaving a cocoon of serenity amid the chaos of the outside world. The city’s distant hum melted into the night, leaving only the soft rhythm of their breaths and the tender warmth of their small room, where time seemed to pause and the world outside was but a distant memory.