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He’s just so tired.
The meticulously detailed floor plan on the screen which he’s been studying for who knows how long, drifts apart the more he tries to focus; it becomes surreal shapes and lines and dots, finally dissolving into a blindingly loud blue, seamlessly morphing into another one of the many dancing lights on the wall.
Ning Yuanzhou rubs his runny eyes until his lids burn; he tries again, but it remains making no sense at all, and the jarring music from the house opposite splinters into sharp pieces all over in his head.
“It will become clear when you stop staring at it.”
If only it were that easy. He doesn't stop looking at the screen when Yu Shisan sits down next to him, on the desk, nor does he when an indistinct hand turns it off, replacing the garish blue with a soothing matt black.
“Or you need glasses.”
Maybe he actually does. With a grimace, Ning Yuanzhou stretches out, and when he finally looks up, he sees two drinks held right in his face.
“Very funny,” he mutters and snatches one with a bit too much force so that some drops slosh over on his hand. He sniffs at the liquid, mistrustfully glaring at the other glass to compare.
He doesn’t smell alcohol, but the colour looks odd – it might be simply because of the disco lights from over there, just as intrusive as the music, cluttering the whole room. There are downsides to being deployed to a party mile instead of to an abandoned factory or a run-down back street for once, and, as chic and comfortable as the rooms are, it adds to the overall off-tones of this mission.
“Don’t worry, they’re both non-alcoholic, I’m being solidary.” Yu Shisan toasts, and gingerly takes a sip as if he’s making a sacrifice.
“Who would believe that?” Ning Yuanzhou shrugs. “You just don’t want to be the only drunk.”
Yu Shisan smiles into his glass. Tonight, he’s armoured with a cream-coloured three-piece suit, a white dress-shirt and the black tie with white polka-dots Ning Yuanzhou got him recently, held in place by a swanky tiepin, all ridiculously well-groomed at this late hour. His outfit and styling, as usual, are as thoughtfully put together as his demeanour, making it easy and convenient for most people to overlook the sadness in his eyes.
The drink is very sweet and cooling, and Ning Yuanzhou relaxes his hunched shoulders and unclenches his jaw. He had again broken the unwritten night-before-mission-rule: no working after the final meeting with everyone, and no worries about failure, or suffering losses.
This rather new ritual they have of spending some free time together after the last meeting with everyone is the result of Yu Shisan checking on him to see if he was following the said rule and finding him working and worrying - but who knows, maybe he needed to distract himself from doing the same. Taking a break was surely a good idea, letting the information settle in the mind, letting the pieces fall into place; then again, keeping a distance to make things clearer has never worked between them. One day, they would have to find another way to sort it out.
Ning Yuanzhou gets up to have a look outside. The street is lively, unlike this house which would be dead silent without the soundtrack of the carefree nightlife outside. It’s raining, the small droplets are tinted with the colours of the disco light and neon sings, small glinting lines run down on the window in odd patterns.
He closes the heavy, high curtains, along the bed and from the other side so that only a small gap stands open, giving his strained senses a relief. When did he become so tense and weary that he couldn't shake it off any more? It could be that he hasn't fully recovered from his last injury, even though the check-up had been fine, or it is the sense of dread he’s dragging around with him as of late and the especially bad feeling he has about the next mission.
“Shutting out even the second-hand fun? You're so mopey. On the other hand, I have to admit that it's nice like this. You know, even though we're just thirty, I sometimes fantasize about how good it would be to retire," Yu Shisan says, taking the words out of Ning Yuanzhou's mouth. He sighs loudly and drinks more of his cocktail, tasting it as if he can't decide whether it would be a worthy last one or whether he should get another one.
It's pointless to think about it though, when it’s immanent with their job. Every assignment could be the last, and so every conversation, every meal, every thought; the best way to deal with it was to have as few regrets as possible.
“You want second-hand fun? Then look at this.” Under Yu Shisan’s curious observation, Ning Yuanzhou walks back to the desk and pulls the first drawer, taking a small package and unwrapping it. It’s some loose tobacco, rolling paper and a box of matches. “I found it in Yuan Lu’s room.”
“You stole from the kid?!”
“Of course not, I confiscated it!” replies Ning Yuanzhou, mimicking the exaggerated indignation.
“Oh, sure. But- Ew.“ Inhaling the scent of the tobacco, Yu Shisan scrunches up his nose. “What is this stuff? It smells horrible.” He takes a paper and makes a sloppy cigarette, lights it up and starts coughing as he bravely takes the first drag. “Ugh. Unbelievable. Here, do you want to try?”
He offers it. The smell too disgusting, but Ning Yuanzhou wouldn’t admit defeat to a cigarette. Where the hell did Yuan Lu get this? It is truly horrible.
“At this point I’m more concerned with who sells this. I’ll pay them a visit sometime.” When there is ‘sometime’.
“Good idea. And I will slip the boy something better. Ah!” Yu Shisan quickly lays his finger on Ning Yuanzhou’s mouth to shut his protest, and smiles mildly. “Don’t be too rigid. Pretend you didn’t hear that and let me be the irresponsible one, alright?”
Ning Yuanzhou frowns, but leaves it at that, as a part of the ‘no worries rule’. Also, Yuan Lu is an adult now. Technically, it’s none of his business, and the life of a spy is definitely more dangerous than smoking, isn’t it, so what does it matter. How old had he been when he started smoking? He can’t remember.
He takes the hateful cigarette to place it on the windowsill outside, for not having to deal with the stink at least. If not for the weather, he’d go out and get other ones.
The rain immediately wets his face like mist, and he enjoys the fresh air for a moment, inhaling it deeply, trying to swallow the bad taste. The party seems to cool down now. There’s someone at the window opposite, their silly greeting remains unanswered; the song coming across is slower and more melodic than the ones before.
“Hey, I like this one,” Yu Shisan declares and claps, “let’s dance!” He empties his drink and doffs blazer and tie, even rolls up his sleeves to call time on the formal part of this evening.
“You know I can’t dance,” Ning Yuanzhou grumbles. He never liked dancing; he’s too lanky to make it anything but awkward, and in direct comparison to his friend, his movements look clumsy.
“Who cares, I’m not judging. Come on.” Yu Shisan, already warming up, beckons him over like one would beckon a stubborn cat by use of a treat, with lenience and a tinge of mockery.
“And I’m supposed believe that now?!”
“Okay, okay, I won’t look. Here.” Pointing at his closed eyes, he starts dancing, perfectly moving in time to the borrowed beat, elegant and also teasingly, he can’t help it.
His clothes are a bit too loose, Ning Yuanzhou notices, alike his own became recently, in contrast to the growing rings under his eyes. This job really takes a toll, though none of them would admit it. On impulse, he hugs Yu Shisan from behind, carefully so he won’t startle him, casually wrapping his arms around him and lightly leaning his head against his friend's perfectly styled, delightfully scented hair.
“What’s that about?”
“Making sure you’re really not looking.”
Yu Shisan accepts it with a giggle and begins dancing again, leading the rhythm; it is not so bad like this, even relaxing, just going with the flow, not thinking about the steps or what to do with one’s arms. Two more blatantly cheesy songs they go on like this; Ning Yuanzhou’s headache is gone, replaced by cotton, and his tenseness makes place for the comfort of sweet idleness. He buries his nose deeper in his friend’s hair, and just as he thinks he would like to stay like this all night, the DJ must be back from their break, flooding the street with the harsh music from before and making them flinch at the first cadence.
Regretfully, they move apart, facing each other again.
“Rude,” Yu Shisan complains, morose in a theatrical manner, but he’s genuinely sulky, making Ning Yuanzhou smile.
“Second-hand fun is just not it,” he says and reaches out to fix his friend’s hair he had flattened.
And as he does so, something shoos across Yu Shisan’s face like the light spots, fleetingly, but particles of it linger in the warmth of his wide eyes. Its familiarity is almost sweeping Ning Yuanzhou off his feet like a thorough gut punch, like always when a feeling he’s denying himself for the sake of what’s expected of him suddenly surfaces. Usually, he’d sort it out with himself, but now, he can’t hide and doesn’t want to, though he’s feeling defenceless.
Is the person over there still watching? If so: Do they seem timid, kissing hesitantly, or as if they’d forgotten how? Does the sudden escalation, the feverish kisses, the hasty pulling-off of clothes, look passionate, comical or desperate, or all of it?
They stumble over to the bed, hiding away, not able to keep their hands off each other for even a moment; the creaking of the bedframe, the rustling of the linen sheet, the heavy breathing is for their ears only, subverting the pervasive music. But still, it’s almost too quiet – usually obtrusive, Yu Shisan is so silent now. Ning Yuanzhou could handle it better if he cracked a joke instead of holding on and looking at him with the persistent traces of this sentiment he doesn’t know what to do with.
Only slowly, they come back to their senses, catching their breath, calming with the upcoming fresh breeze. Pulling up the blanket and nestling against Ning Yuanzhou’s shoulder, Yu Shisan, both astonished and amused, says “wow” and chuckles, thankfully being his old self again.
Ning Yuanzhou feels drowsiness creeping up to him, but he doesn’t allow it to take over. Not resting is a bit like cheating on their cause, but it’s a risk he’s willing to take to steal a few more moments like this from this night, moments that belong to them only.
“Let’s not sleep,” he whispers, his voice too small, too husky to talk loudly.
Yu Shisan looks at him, a bit surprised, but he understands like he understands why they have to look out for each other on evenings like this. “Wanna go again?” he asks instead of ‘why’, cheekily, and squints like he got just a little too cozy.
Ning Yuanzhou doesn’t answer, just nudges him and smiles, ignoring the complacent grin.
In the gap between the curtains, there’s the neon rain and the party lights, their colours will soon fade in the setting morning; through the open window sound the remnants of the nightlife, mixing with the first noises of the daily business.
Closing his eyes, Ning Yuanzhou focuses on Yu Shisan’s soft lips meandering down his stomach, on his fingers running slowly through his friend’s silky hair. When they come out of today’s mission alive, they should really sort this out. Or should they?
In the half-light of the life they’re leading, the blurry, leaky, overlapping lines of their relationship are quite fitting – equals, boss and subordinate, friends, confidants, foster parents of sorts, brothers-in-arms, lovers when they think no one of the crew is paying attention.
Maybe it is good to keep it adjustable; it feels good.