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Lu Feng likes to touch. An Zhe is okay with it, and likes that, because he likes to touch, too. Lu Feng lets him touch with his hands and hyphae, lets him use every part of his body. Sometimes it’s skin to skin after Lu Feng has spent some time bullying him and An Zhe is too tired to do anything but feel the other, heartbeat steady underneath his ear. Other times it’s lips, pressing kisses wherever he wants, sometimes Lu Feng’s lips but sometimes different parts. He presses his lips to Lu Feng’s neck, to his shoulders, to his hands, and all of them feel rather nice.
Everything that An Zhe does, Lu Feng does, too. Sometimes Lu Feng does even more things, and An Zhe gets to learn different kinds of touch. A little mushroom doesn’t quite touch other creatures, just stays quiet and still and away from everything, but An Zhe likes learning new touches.
Today is a reading day, and it’s a day he doesn’t expect to learn any new touches. An Zhe had decided it was such a day because Dr. Ji had found them some new books to read. They’re poetry, which makes him thrum because he thinks of Poet, and An Zhe wants to read them.
Lu Feng hadn’t protested, simply taken his own book, and they stretched out on the bed.
An Zhe isn’t really sure how it happened. He must have been the one to move, because when they started, both of them were properly in the bed and leaning back against the pillows. Just like how an ex-Arbiter and a little mushroom should be.
Now, he isn’t there anymore. Lu Feng runs a hand down An Zhe’s calf and he jerks a little in surprise, startled, and puts down his book to blink at Lu Feng. He realizes he’s somehow moved completely around, dragging a pillow with him, so his head is at the opposite end and his legs are lying next to Lu Feng. He is comfortable, so it’s fine, but the little mushroom isn’t sure why Lu Feng touched him.
“Lu Feng?” he asks, putting a piece of paper to mark his book.
“Nothing,” says Lu Feng, who doesn’t appear to have been really reading his book much at all. He’s barely into it. “I only wanted to touch.”
He only wanted to bully, he means, but An Zhe just huffs a little and opens his book back up to continue. Lu Feng does it again, smoothing his hand down the other calf, and An Zhe twitches a little under his touch and it’s distracting but he can still read.
Then Lu Feng lightly runs his fingers over his foot and An Zhe kicks him.
He-
An Zhe drops his book, sitting up to stare down at where his legs lay, where his feet lay. He hadn’t… done that? He hadn’t tried to do that. He hadn’t tried to kick Lu Feng’s hand away - not as though he disagreed with that notion, but he hadn’t tried to. He hadn’t moved his leg. It just… moved.
“You’re ticklish,” says Lu Feng, and he does it again, An Zhe’s leg spasming and kicking out. There’s a look on his face that means this promises to be a lot of trouble, a new way of bullying, and An Zhe quickly yanks his legs away and tucks them underneath himself.
“Is that what that was? Ticklish?” he asks. It felt strange. He didn’t like it. An Zhe eyes Lu Feng’s legs and feet, next to him. “Are you… ticklish?”
Lu Feng quickly pulls his legs away too and An Zhe laughs. He is, he is! It’s a new touch that he’s learned about today, and he tucks that away to remember later, when he can catch Lu Feng off guard because right now he’s very on guard.
Instead of going for the attack, An Zhe crawls towards Lu Feng on his hands and knees and lays on top of him. Lu Feng uncurls after a moment and wraps his arms around him, looking down at him. His green eyes are cold, still, but they’re cold and warm at the same time. It doesn’t make any sense but it does.
“I like touching you,” An Zhe says, very simply.
Lu Feng pets his hair. “Mm. I like touching you, too.” He pets his hair again, but this time his fingers go in, not smoothing his hair but running through it, fingertips brushing his scalp.
An Zhe doesn’t think he could ever not have this. He could, he supposes, but he doesn’t want to. He pushes into the touch and Lu Feng does it again and again.
“Do you like your hair?” Lu Feng asks abruptly, and An Zhe looks up at him.
He thinks about it for a long moment, before he nods. “Yes,” he says. “But I liked Captain Hubbard’s hair the best. Or Doussay. Or Poet’s.” They had long hair - it was quite nice. He thought it would be nicer to run fingers through than short hair, even if he liked running his fingers through Lu Feng’s hair even now.
An Zhe feels the urge to do that, but if he reaches up for Lu Feng’s head, he thinks Lu Feng will stop his fingers, so he doesn’t move.
“You could grow your hair out,” Lu Feng says, running his fingers through and tugging on a strand. “Your hair could be just as long.”
It’s an idea. It’s not… an idea he’s against, but… He frowns, just a little. “If I do, won’t I stop looking like An Ze?” An Ze had short hair, so An Zhe has short hair. He wants to look like An Ze.
If he stops looking like An Ze, no one else will remember him. He doesn’t like that. He wants An Ze to always be there even if it’s only when he looks in a mirror.
Lu Feng is quiet for a moment, before he leans down and kisses his head. “No,” he says. “An Zhe will always be An Zhe, and will always look like An Ze.” He likes that. It makes him feel warm, and he exhales and then nods a little bit.
An Zhe will think about it. He doesn’t know.
He stretches out his hand, which turns into hyphae and stretches even further, and drags his book back to him. An Zhe turns around so he’s seated properly between Lu Feng’s legs, leaning into his back. He can feel every breath Lu Feng takes, and it’s nice.
Lu Feng wraps his arms around An Zhe, under his arms, and presses his whole face into An Zhe’s hair. It feels nice. It feels good.
“Listen,” An Zhe says, and he opens the book to read aloud. “I carry your heart with me…”