Work Text:
Perhaps no one would believe it, but as a small child, Lu Guang liked to run around, as most small children do. This, of course, came with many bruised knees and scratched cheeks. So, as most children do when they fall, Lu Guang would start sniffling, lower lip trembling, eyes blinking rapidly to prevent huge tears from streaking his face. He knew tears would only make the scratch on his chin, sustained from falling face first on the ground, sting even more.
But the scratch stung! It was too much for his five-year-old self. And so, the tears fell, wetting his full cheeks, dripping down to his chin. Lu Guang hissed as the pinprick burning sensation hit his open wound tenfold.
He knew he had to find an adult. Lu Guang took a deep breath, got on his hands and knees, and stood up, walking back inside the house. From his spot in the back porch, he could make out uproarious laughter from somewhere in the guest hall.
Lu Guang took care to clean his shoes on the doormat before stepping on marble tiles. There must be guests coming over, and that meant at least one of his parents had to be present. Lip wobbling, he ran to the guest hall as quickly as his legs could take him. At least this time his legs were okay, unlike the other day when he scraped his knee rather badly and cried the moment he stood up as the wounded skin stretched taut… Lu Guang shook his head.
The door to the guest hall was now in sight. He approached the open door slowly and peeked his head inside.
Just as he suspected, both his parents were there, conversing and laughing with three other men he didn’t know. Shy as he was, Lu Guang merely observed everyone in the room. He was taught early on not to bother his parents when they had guests over, that he should only make his presence known when he was summoned, unless there was an emergency.
But the pain on his chin wasn’t getting any better, so this counted as an emergency to him!
Lu Guang didn’t mean to interrupt, he truly didn’t. But he couldn’t help but meekly call out, so softly that he thought no one would hear.
“Ma…”
It caught his mother’s attention, which caught his father’s attention, and now every adult in the room turned to the hall’s entrance, where a child with unruly white hair and big grey eyes peeked out from behind the door frame.
“Ah, is that your boy?” one of the men asked.
“Looks a lot like you,” another one commented.
“Oh, is your kid crying?” Lu Guang must not have wiped his tears as thoroughly as he thought.
“Yes, yes,” his father mused distractedly and waved a hand. He barely spared Lu Guang another glance and turned back to the three men. “Ah, don’t worry about him. So, as I was saying…”
Lu Guang stared at his father helplessly, then at his mother who, to his great relief, excused herself from the conversation to check on him. “Ma, I…”
But she shooed him away from the door, whisper-shouting, “What are you doing? Why are you crying? Aiya, so dirty, too. Have you been playing outside?”
Lu Guang was once again interrupted by the tinkling of a bell. It was what their parents used to summon their maids, as they deemed shouting to be undignified and inelegant.
It only took a few seconds for a maid to appear and guide Lu Guang away so his wound could be tended to, but it was enough time for his mother to lecture him. “You’re a big boy now, Guang-er. Big boys don’t cry. Also, don’t show up in front of guests when you’re like that. So unsightly.”
“…Sorry.”
His mother huffed. “Off you go, now. I need to get back.”
As the maid spoke soothing words and took his hand, Lu Guang felt like crying again. But no, big boys did not cry. So instead, he pressed the fingers of his free hand into his palm, distracting himself with another kind of pain other than the one in his chest.
That was one of the strongest memories Lu Guang had of his parents, right next to the memory of the last time he saw them—disappointment, disapproval, anger, hatred etched onto their faces right before the front door was slammed shut in front of his face, leaving him under the heavy rain with a single suitcase and a numb heart.
Maids and butlers rushed to him, but Lu Guang paid them no mind, waving them away as he forced himself down the sodden street, stepping on large puddles without care. His feet subconsciously took a familiar route until he found his way to a newly refurbished photo studio. The sign, which was supposed to bear the name of the business, was still bare.
He had spent more and more nights here in the past few months, to the point that it felt more like home than the huge mansion he lived in for sixteen years and counting—well, no, not anymore.
He knew the occupant of this building was not asleep yet, and he knew he was always welcome to come in as long as the door was unlocked, but Lu Guang knocked anyway.
It didn’t take long for a boy his age to open the door, messy black locks free from his usual ponytail. He was already dressed for bed, so the first thing that escaped Lu Guang’s lips was, “Sorry to bother you, Cheng Xiaoshi.”
At the same time, Cheng Xiaoshi’s deep brown eyes widened, mouth agape. “Lu Guang?”
For a second, neither of them moved, only staring at each other. Lu Guang with an unfocused gaze, Cheng Xiaoshi with a disbelieving stare, as if he was hallucinating Lu Guang’s presence.
Until Cheng Xiaoshi blinked rapidly and said, “Ah, shit, you’re drenched. Come inside, quick.”
Lu Guang obeyed, but not before robotically cleaning his shoes on the doormat. They both knew this was useless as Lu Guang was soaked from head to toe. He parked his suitcase on the front door, then eyed the sofa in front of the counter. He refused to sit until Cheng Xiaoshi brought over a few towels and laid one down on the sofa, then practically pushed him down.
Lu Guang stared at the cheap tiles lining the studio’s floor. He felt a towel gently draped over his shoulders, then another one on top of his head. No one spoke as Cheng Xiaoshi stood in front of him, patiently drying his hair.
Unprompted, Cheng Xiaoshi spoke up. “It’s gonna be alright, Lu Guang.”
At the same time, Lu Guang said, “I was kicked out.”
Cheng Xiaoshi’s hands stopped moving. He knelt in front of Lu Guang, lightly squeezing his upper arm. “Shit, I’m so sorry. Do you…?”
Lu Guang didn’t know what Cheng Xiaoshi was about to ask before he trailed off. Did he feel okay? Did he have somewhere to stay? He shook his head either way. Did he have a plan? Well, he hoped Cheng Xiaoshi would let him borrow a room until he found someplace to live. He would help with rent, he could help tutor kids for a fee, he could—
Cheng Xiaoshi grabbed his hands. “You can stay here, if you want. Temporarily, permanently, whichever you prefer.”
Lu Guang stared at him in astonishment. Cheng Xiaoshi met his disbelieving stare with an earnest gaze and a soft smile. They had known each other for less than a year, but Cheng Xiaoshi was more than ready to share his home with him. Why? How?
How did he get so lucky to meet this boy?
Something sharp prickled in his chest. His heart felt like it was being squeezed. Lu Guang choked out a sob, and after that, he couldn’t stop.
Inside a yet-named photo studio, in front of a simple counter lined with old cameras, Cheng Xiaoshi held him for who knew how long, as Lu Guang, back hunched, shoulders shaking, tears wetting his already drenched clothes, wailed himself hoarse.
After laying his heart bare that one miserable night, Lu Guang picked up the stray pieces of his emotions and repressed them again. Cheng Xiaoshi didn’t pry, and for a while, it felt like nothing changed between them.
Well, that wasn’t entirely true considering they were now roommates who practically saw each other non-stop. But their attitudes towards each other didn’t change. Cheng Xiaoshi still teased him relentlessly and ran his mouth about whatever was on his mind. Lu Guang still replied with hums and short phrases. They still played basketball every weekend, then went to get boba after.
At the same time, however, something felt different. Cheng Xiaoshi became more attentive towards Lu Guang’s physical and mental well-being in small ways that were not as subtle as he thought.
Whenever Lu Guang’s breath grew unsteady and his brows furrowed in his sleep, Cheng Xiaoshi would climb to the top bunk and nudge him awake. Lu Guang never explained, and he didn’t need to—Cheng Xiaoshi would silently hold his hand until he calmed down.
Whenever Lu Guang got a knife cut from learning how to cook (because he felt bad for having Cheng Xiaoshi cook all the time, even though the other boy insisted it was fine because he was already paying rent), Cheng Xiaoshi would bolt to his side as if he had a sixth sense. With a small frown, he would cradle Lu Guang’s finger and gently guide it under running water, turning a deaf ear to Lu Guang’s protests about being able to do it himself.
Cheng Xiaoshi then would drag him to a chair and tell him not to move as he rummaged through a first aid kit. “Tell me if it hurts,” he said before applying medicine.
Whenever Cheng Xiaoshi was laser-focused to tending his injuries, Lu Guang would study his face and question how someone could care so much. With how pained his eyes looked, he wondered who was the injured one here.
This was something he never experienced in his younger days. Whether it was being comforted from a nightmare or having his injuries gently taken care of with so much empathy… when Lu Guang was a child, he dealt with all physical and emotional wounds the only way he was taught—lock all discomfort and hurt in a box and throw away the key. He would pretend the pain didn’t bother him, no matter how much it prodded and prickled at his skin.
Until, at some point, Lu Guang managed to grow detached from his own pain. It was odd how he observed his injury but felt no distress as he watched blood leak out. Strange how he registered the sting and burn on his skin but could simply ignore it with a straight face. Curious how he understood, scientifically, the way nerves transmitted the sensation of pain to his brain, yet he didn’t pay it any mind, unless it was something life-threatening. Paper cuts, cat scratches, twisted ankles and leg cramps from too much basketball, or a small kitchen accident like this, he could hardly bring himself to care.
Yet, Cheng Xiaoshi cared. He cared and fussed over Lu Guang enough for the both of them, and then some. Whenever he saw Cheng Xiaoshi’s worried expression, he felt a pinch in his stomach, even though it was his finger leaking blood on the tissue-lined countertop.
So it went without saying, whenever Cheng Xiaoshi was even slightly injured—whether it was from accidentally burning his hand in the kitchen, scraping his knee on the basketball court, or hitting his head as he rolled off the bed—the usually calm and stoic Lu Guang became the uneasiest person in the world.
Though they were barely afloat in terms of finances, life in Time Photo Studio could hardly be better. Cheng Xiaoshi and Lu Guang took shifts and created job divisions for the studio. They knew who was in charge of which household chore, knew whose turn it was to do the laundry and dishes, knew what the other was searching for around the house and where to find it. They even discovered how to use their complementary powers to help others, and if they could gain some extra income, that was a nice bonus.
It was this power that led to their big fight.
When Cheng Xiaoshi clapped back that night, his face seemed unreadable. But Lu Guang knew. It was a melting pot of anguish, desperation, disappointment, anger, and betrayal.
Lu Guang got up from the couch. Cheng Xiaoshi always sought physical contact, but this time, he only stood in the middle of the sunroom, hands clenched into fists at his side.
He hesitated. Guilt pooled at his stomach. For not fully briefing Cheng Xiaoshi, for revealing half-truths, for deceiving him.
So he only put a hand on his partner’s shoulder and said, “I’m sorry.”
No number of apologies could convey what he felt, and he didn’t expect Cheng Xiaoshi to understand.
“Why did you lie to me?” Cheng Xiaoshi hissed. “Why did you let her die?”
Lu Guang could only answer with the same rule he drilled into Cheng Xiaoshi before every dive, “…To make sure everything in the past stays the same—”
A hard punch collided with his face. It was a quick and clean hit, but to him, it felt messy. Chaotic. Disorderly.
Cheng Xiaoshi had never taken martial arts lessons, as far as he knew, but he must have known how to throw a punch from fending off bullies in his childhood days. Fuck, it hurt, not even Lu Guang could deny it. The sharp, electric sting was hard to brush off the way he usually did. His vision blurred, his ears rang, his sense of balance was lost. His tongue instinctively darted around to make sure he didn’t lose a tooth.
But Lu Guang kept his eyes open, even as they started to water, because what mattered more than his pain was the way Cheng Xiaoshi was looking at him with so much rage that he didn’t know how to react.
In the same amount of time it took for Lu Guang to stumble back onto the couch, Cheng Xiaoshi’s anger turned to grief.
And suddenly Lu Guang forgot the sensation of his throbbing jaw. Forgot how he was still seeing double. Forgot his racing pulse and quickened breathing. At the sight of Cheng Xiaoshi on the floor, body hitching with sobs that reverberated in the silent night, some other pain crashed into Lu Guang’s chest.
Cheng Xiaoshi could scream at him, hit him again, as much as he wanted, and he would take it. Later. Right now, Lu Guang kneeled in front of him, holding Cheng Xiaoshi the way he himself was held many years ago.
Under the moonlight pooling into the sunroom, in front of the couch from where Lu Guang shouted all his commands, he held Cheng Xiaoshi for who knew how long, vowing to never make him feel this way again.
Lu Guang cursed himself for not being able to fulfill his promise.
It was hard to admit to himself that hiding information from Cheng Xiaoshi to protect him only ended up backfiring. Cheng Xiaoshi revisited Emma’s case and learned the truth behind it. Lu Guang was ready for another round of lashing, but only after screaming at him for diving without him knowing.
But one thing led to another, and while Cheng Xiaoshi was diving (under supervision, this time), Lu Guang found himself on the couch, with a cold, metal object piercing his clothes, his skin, his flesh—by the person he had viewed as a sister after so many years.
Cold turned to scalding hot as blood rushed out. His breath turned shallow, his vision turned hazy, and Lu Guang collapsed on the couch. In his mind’s eye, he could still see what Cheng Xiaoshi was seeing, felt the horror Cheng Xiaoshi was feeling as Emma threw herself off the bridge.
Adrenaline mixed with years of repression made it hard for him to register the throbbing cramps at that moment. All Lu Guang was aware of was the way his mind and heart raced. If Cheng Xiaoshi clapped back now, after that gruesome experience, and saw his sister holding their kitchen knife soaked with blood, while Lu Guang was bleeding out on the couch… He selfishly hoped he would black out before he could properly see Cheng Xiaoshi’s face.
But his prayers went unanswered as he heard the familiar thump of shoes. Anxiety crept up in his chest. His heart pounded at an alarming rate that alerted his smart watch.
It was hard to figure out what was happening. The blood loss, Lu Guang reckoned, made it harder to feel his body. There were shouts in the room, words that he could not understand through the white noise in his ears. The room spun, along with the two silhouettes who had started moving at a speed his eyes could not keep up with.
That night, as Qiao Ling-jie tried to hack at Cheng Xiaoshi with a knife like a man possessed, a thought crossed Lu Guang’s mind.
If death is an irreversible node, then it’s better to face it now.
Lu Guang didn’t end up facing death that day. He did, however, go through hell and back for the next few.
He was sitting in bed, his wound lightly throbbing, when he heard the sound of the door sliding open. Cheng Xiaoshi’s quiet sobs grew louder as he stepped in, and Lu Guang’s throbbing abdomen was quickly overridden by a new wave of pain in his chest. A pain that was no longer unfamiliar, and Lu Guang’s heart clenched. He did it again, he made Cheng Xiaoshi cry.
It was hard to look at Cheng Xiaoshi’s face, which turned from anguish, to shock, to great relief in a matter of seconds. Lu Guang turned away, muttering a snappy remark through the prickling in his chest. Soon the conversation turned playful and light-hearted between them, the way it always did.
But their peaceful moments were short-lived.
Before Lu Guang knew it, he had a strange photo in hand. Before he knew it, they were faced with an adversary with powers difficult to comprehend. One moment he took a picture of his hospital room’s window, the next he woke up blindfolded and tied to a chair, the ground rocking underneath his feet.
The halted blood circulation made his hands numb. The awkward position stretched at his freshly stitched wound. He panted, groaned, bit back screams wherever he was touched, foreign hands making their way all over his torso and body, but his mind kept reeling. Did Cheng Xiaoshi make it away safely? If he got himself injured for Lu Guang’s sake, then…
He should have expected it. Of course Cheng Xiaoshi would offer himself as hostage to trade with Lu Guang. Cheng Xiaoshi was the main target, after all. It was too good of an offer for Li Tianchen to pass up.
“Cheng Xiaoshi!” His scream was muffled by the duct tape. He grimaced, trying to signal Cheng Xiaoshi with his eyes, but the other man already made up his mind. The duct tape tore at his lips and skin, leaving an angry red mark and a burning sensation, but it was nothing compared to the tightness in his throat as he screamed Cheng Xiaoshi’s name multiple times that night.
At that point, Lu Guang was a mess of injuries. His wound’s stitches reopened at some point, widening and worsening as the night went on, and he vaguely wondered if it had been infected already. Red welts decorated his arms and wrist, and the phantom feeling of coarse rope against skin lingered. The skin on his lips left him hissing every time he tried to speak.
But the way he always did, Lu Guang ignored his pain. The thought of collapsing from blood loss again crossed his mind, but he brushed it all off as he fiercely tackled Li Tianchen away from Cheng Xiaoshi.
This was fine. Lu Guang could handle the pain. Both sides were exhausted at this point, but he, Cheng Xiaoshi, and Qiao Ling-jie had a chance of—
The shot echoing in the dark tunnel was a foreign yet familiar sound. It echoed even louder in Lu Guang's ears. A song of requiem he heard what felt like lifetimes ago. A melody of doom he fought so hard to prevent.
Only a little blood trickled out of Cheng Xiaoshi, but all Lu Guang could see was red.
Images flashed across his eyes, the Cheng Xiaoshi in a black suit overlapping with the one wearing his usual blue and yellow jacket, surrounded by a crimson pool as he went still in his arms—
How many lifetimes has it been? A voice whispered inside him, vicious and demeaning. You did it again. You let it happen again. No matter how many times you try, nothing will change.
No. No.
Lu Guang always told Cheng Xiaoshi how death was an irreversible node. He also told himself, just weeks ago, that he would accept death when it came to him.
And yet.
Under the dim lights of a tunnel, regaining strength he never knew he possessed, Lu Guang screamed himself hoarse and charged with ferocity and madness he almost never displayed.
Lu Guang opened his eyes to the overly sterile smell of a new hospital room.
His whole body ached. His wound, as expected, was infected, but it wasn’t as serious as the doctors feared. His arms and wrists still bore red marks. His fists were bruised and stinging.
But for the first time, instead of brushing it all away, Lu Guang embraced the pain he was feeling, taking care to appreciate each one.
He noted how his head ached from too much sleep. How his hand was somewhat heavy from the IV needle buried under his skin. How his wrists felt stiff when he tried to twist them even slightly. How his calves strained from all the running, jumping, brawling that he forced his already battered body to do. How the constant and dull throb of his stitched wound was a reminder that he was there, alive.
And Cheng Xiaoshi, who kept whining about being forced into bed rest following a minor surgery, was a reminder that he was there, alive.
“Oh, you’re finally awake,” said the reminder. “If I have to spend another minute talking my own ear off, I’m gonna go crazy.”
Lu Guang stared at him in fond amusement. Ever since Cheng Xiaoshi was out of surgery, he requested (borderline insisted for) a room with Lu Guang. The other man secretly wanted the same thing, but his plan was to secretly plead to Qiao Ling-jie. It was a good thing Cheng Xiaoshi spoke up first, allowing Lu Guang to save face.
Getting no reply, Cheng Xiaoshi spoke up again. “I’m coming to your bed.”
There was a rustle of clothing, then Lu Guang’s mattress dipped. Careful of Lu Guang’s wound and the IV, Cheng Xiaoshi laid his head on his chest, his voice muffled by Lu Guang’s freshly laundered kitty pajamas (which he grumbled at upon accepting, yet he traced his finger along the kitten’s embroidered outline anyway).
“Lu Guang.”
“Mm?”
“…A-Guang.”
Lu Guang began stroking Cheng Xiaoshi’s hair. “Mm.”
“I had a bad dream.”
Me too, Lu Guang wanted to say but kept it to himself. Cheng Xiaoshi didn’t need Lu Guang’s worries on top of his own.
“I almost lost you.” Cheng Xiaoshi’s voice cracked. “I thought I’d lost you.”
Lu Guang weighed his reply. “I almost lost you, too.” The this time was left unsaid.
How many times have I lost you? How many times did I go back? How many times will I have to do it again? How many times—
“Haha, you’re not getting rid of me that easily,” Cheng Xiaoshi said.
…It doesn’t matter how many times. I will keep going for however many more.
Lu Guang hummed into Cheng Xiaoshi’s hair. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
A content sigh escaped Cheng Xiaoshi’s lips. “A-Guang.”
“Yes?”
“Stay with me.”
Lu Guang always told Cheng Xiaoshi that death was an irreversible node. That if death came, it was better to accept it.
And yet.
For Cheng Xiaoshi, for the bright future that could, should, must await him, for the radiant smiles and warm gazes that he wore despite everything life threw at him, for his mere existence to Lu Guang himself—
Why, Lu Guang would simply grab that node and crush it. If Cheng Xiaoshi’s thread of fate was meant to be cut short, then come heavy rain or high tides, Lu Guang would seize the fabrics of time and space and knit a different future for him.
Inside a hospital room smelling like medicine, on top of a bed too small for two, Lu Guang kissed the top of Cheng Xiaoshi’s head as he made a vow. To Cheng Xiaoshi, to whatever entity decreed his lifeline, and to himself.
“Of course, silly. You won’t get rid of me that easily.”