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It was only a feeling, at first.
Cheng Xiaoshi has a lot of feelings, and he has them all the time. Qiao Ling likes to say he keeps his heart on his sleeve, but the way she says it isn’t complimentary — she says it with an implied dummy lingering with affection at the end of the sentence, but Cheng Xiaoshi doesn’t think it’s a bad thing to trust your feelings.
Trust is all you have left, sometimes.
Lu Guang has never asked Cheng Xiaoshi to trust him, but he does.
Lu Guang had appeared seemingly out of thin air one day and taken up permanent residence in Cheng Xiaoshi’s mind without even trying. It’s a little embarrassing, really, the way Cheng Xiaoshi wants to follow him around, wants to talk to him and listen to him and just look at him, especially once it became clear that Lu Guang was only mildly interested in letting him do any of that. Cheng Xiaoshi has never been particularly good at letting things go.
He can’t help his feelings, though — there‘s something about Lu Guang that pulls at him, keeping his attention even when nothing is happening. He feels crazy sometimes, the way his gaze will automatically find itself tracking Lu Guang as they walk around the studio or in class, his body turning on its own with no input from him.
Maybe it was the way Lu Guang had looked at him when their eyes had met for the first time, Lu Guang’s own eyes bright with the setting sun and glinting with unshed tears. Cheng Xiaoshi knows that they hadn’t met before, knows he would remember a face like Lu Guang’s from the moment he saw it, but Lu Guang’s stare had been wildly intense, almost hungry in a way that made no sense for strangers. He’d looked at Cheng Xiaoshi like he’d been starving for the sight of him for years. His hand had been a brand around Cheng Xiaoshi’s wrist, a ring of heat that had lingered long after he’d let go.
That wild look had been strangely disorienting, had left Cheng Xiaoshi breathless and his pulse tripping, but when Lu Guang had rubbed a hand across his face, smearing blood and pinprick tears, it had dissolved into the calm, reserved expression that he would come to find as Lu Guang’s default look. That sharp, fierce gaze had been so fleeting Cheng Xiaoshi still isn’t sure he isn’t misremembering.
But Cheng Xiaoshi knows he wants to see that expression again. He wants Lu Guang to look at him all the time.
Sometimes he thinks he can feel Lu Guang looking at him, watching him so closely goosebumps rise on the back of his neck, but whenever Cheng Xiaoshi glances his way, Lu Guang has his nose buried in a book, or he’s scribbling something in a notebook, and then Lu Guang will look up and catch Cheng Xiaoshi watching him, which is so mortifying Cheng Xiaoshi has debated wearing sunglasses indoors just so Lu Guang can’t see his eyes. Lu Guang never reacts, never even quirks a smile at him, but it makes Cheng Xiaoshi’s face flush, makes him jerk his gaze away like he’s been seen doing something illicit.
Cheng Xiaoshi has never had a friendship like the one he cultivates with Lu Guang. He’s had friends, obviously, passing acquaintances in school or guys who hang around the basketball court and let him butt into their games. Qiao Ling is his closest friend, but the lines between them have blurred so much he can’t really consider her less than a sister — their love for one another is begrudgingly affectionate, a constant neither of them could ever doubt but layered heavily in the knowledge that they will always tease and fight with one another in every interaction because that’s the foundation they’ve laid for themselves. Sincerity is real but uncommon between them and he loves her but he can’t talk to her about all the things he wants to.
Lu Guang is something different; not a brother, not an acquaintance, and so painfully sincere that it makes Cheng Xiaoshi’s heart pound. He’s free with his time, with his attention, with his help. He listens when Cheng Xiaoshi speaks, and he replies — sometimes dry and amused, sometimes honest and quiet, sometimes with his gaze fixed upon the horizon beyond the tree line outside the park, the barest hint of emotion coloring his voice as he watches the sun set. He never seems to tire of Cheng Xiaoshi’s presence — even when he’s tried to leave, all it takes is a hand to his wrist to pull him back in, like he’s only waiting for the reassurance that Cheng Xiaoshi does want him to stay there.
Cheng Xiaoshi wants him to stay there.
He’s everything Cheng Xiaoshi is not. Steady, calm, thoughtful, he stays to help them clean up Cheng Xiaoshi’s home, and then he just stays. He spends hours in the studio on the weekends, sitting on the couch between customers and reading anything with words on it, even the dumb magazines Qiao Ling leaves lying around. He sits with Cheng Xiaoshi in the dark room and watches him set up the chemicals, listens as Cheng Xiaoshi explains the process of developing film, brow furrowed and contemplative. He fills up the lonely gaps of time between school and going to sleep, gives Cheng Xiaoshi something to look forward to every day.
Cheng Xiaoshi catches himself touching Lu Guang constantly, a hand on his shoulder, guiding him behind the front counter with a palm pressed to his back, nudging his feet as they sit next to one another on the couch and eat cup noodles. Lu Guang lets him.
He fits as if he were always meant to be there. He fits as if he were made for Cheng Xiaoshi, which is a thought Cheng Xiaoshi is afraid to examine too closely for fear it will turn out to be untrue. It seems almost too simple to accept his offer to stay with Cheng Xiaoshi, even with the caveat that it’s not forever. Cheng Xiaoshi should know better than to take anyone at their word, but he can’t help it. He’s been starving for so long for the small taste of a life that Lu Guang has given him these past few months. He wants to trust Lu Guang when he says he’ll stay as long as he can.
But there’s things he can’t help but notice, and Cheng Xiaoshi isn’t sure if he’s imagining them or not.
One evening, when dusk has already fallen and twilight paints the studio blue and orange through the towering glass windows, Cheng Xiaoshi steps out of the shower along with a cloud of steam and catches Lu Guang sitting on the bottom bunk with his fingertips pressed against Cheng Xiaoshi’s pillow, staring intently at the place Cheng Xiaoshi lays his head every night.
For a moment, he falters, not sure if something is wrong — an awkward sound must escape his lips, a greeting strangled by indecision, and Lu Guang’s head whips around quickly, a startled look on his face that quickly morphs into a blank expression before Cheng Xiaoshi can interpret it.
”There was a spider on your pillowcase,” Lu Guang says calmly, standing up from the bed and walking past Cheng Xiaoshi into the bathroom, closing the door before Cheng Xiaoshi can say a word. He’s not really sure what he would say, other than maybe, “Bullshit.”
But why would Lu Guang lie?
Cheng Xiaoshi doesn’t know Lu Guang well enough to question him, but he — he has a feeling. He’s not in the habit of letting things go, not when he has so few things left to himself, and Lu Guang, the person and the mystery, is no different. Cheng Xiaoshi will figure him out.
It’s hard at first, even with all of their time spent together now, because Lu Guang is such a controlled person. It makes Cheng Xiaoshi feel a little envious, because he’s so very not controlled at all, even when he tries to be. He sometimes wonders if he’s going to always feel like an obnoxious teenager, or worse, a pouting, petulant child who can’t figure out how to do anything on their own, who has to muddle their way through learning how to wash clothes or change a lightbulb when the tallest ladder in their home is two feet too short. Lu Guang probably came out of the womb knowing how to debate philosophy and make perfect rice that isn’t too wet.
When Cheng Xiaoshi accidentally burns their dinner one night because he gets distracted by a phone call from Qiao Ling, instead of freaking out over the scorch marks on the bottom of the pan or crying over the charred remnants of the last of their groceries the way Cheng Xiaoshi wants to, Lu Guang just sets a quelling hand on Cheng Xiaoshi’s shoulder and steers him out the door, telling him to pick up the takeout order Lu Guang has already called in. When he gets back to the studio, the smoky smell is gone from the kitchen, and the pan is sparkling clean on the drying rack. Lu Guang is setting up their tiny table with drinks and napkins, because the takeout place never gives them any, and Cheng Xiaoshi feels so warm it almost hurts.
Lu Guang just takes things in stride, doesn’t seem to let anything affect him. The few times Cheng Xiaoshi can get him to smile or even laugh feel like enormous accomplishments, leave him feeling giddy and desperate to do it again. Lu Guang isn’t cold — he’s just steady and quiet, not interested in drawing anyone’s attention and all the more interesting because of it. It’s rare that Cheng Xiaoshi feels like he catches a glimpse of Lu Guang’s thoughts, but he wants to take each one and hold it out in front of him like a negative film reel, wants to hold them in his hand and watch them develop into something that makes sense, wants to know Lu Guang.
It doesn’t help that it feels like Lu Guang already knows him, sometimes, which is understandable since Cheng Xiaoshi isn’t quiet or steady at all. He tells Lu Guang everything, from complaints about class or work to the random observation that one of his arms might be longer than the other. Lu Guang always listens, humming every now and then to let Cheng Xiaoshi know he can hear him, and he remembers everything. Cheng Xiaoshi doesn’t even recall telling Lu Guang his favorite brand of soda, but when Lu Guang gets back from the convenience store one afternoon, he has the exact one that Cheng Xiaoshi always gets for himself. When he’d commented on it, pleased with Lu Guang’s thoughtfulness, Lu Guang had paused for a moment, brow furrowed, and then flattened his mouth a little, his version of a smile.
“Lucky guess,” he’d said, and Cheng Xiaoshi has no reason not to believe him.
Cheng Xiaoshi doesn’t want to not believe him.
Lu Guang feels like a puzzle piece slotted into a puzzle he didn’t know he was building, part of some bigger whole he can’t quite visualize yet. He doesn’t have the answer key, doesn’t know how many other pieces there even are. Lu Guang fits Cheng Xiaoshi in ways that he isn’t really ready to examine closely, and Cheng Xiaoshi trusts him more than he ever thought he could trust someone who wasn’t Qiao Ling. They’ve only known one another for two months.
He thinks if Qiao Ling knew about his thoughts, if she knew how closely he was watching Lu Guang and looking for reasons to tell himself that Lu Guang wasn’t keeping secrets from him, she would definitely tell him that he really was a dummy. She would probably be right.
.
Living with Lu Guang after being alone for so long means constantly second guessing himself. Maybe it’s normal for a roommate to always be able to find everything you’ve misplaced, or to know about the random scar you have on your elbow from falling off a skateboard when you were ten, or to wake in up in the middle of the night to soft, panicked breathing that only stops when Lu Guang gasps himself into waking up.
Cheng Xiaoshi wants to ask him, wants to take the whole of Lu Guang into his palms and gently pry him apart, exposing the parts he’s sure no one else has ever seen so he can press him back together and keep him safe. He doesn’t know how to ask for something like that without sounding insane, because it is insane. Lu Guang doesn’t need Cheng Xiaoshi to protect him from anything. Lu Guang is the one keeping Cheng Xiaoshi from living in the empty memorial of a life he can barely remember, the one giving him a new constant to orient himself towards. Waking up with someone else breathing steadily in his home, listening to the sound of a faucet running in another room, having someone else to talk to when the silence begins to press in against his skull — Cheng Xiaoshi has forgotten how important these small things can be until Lu Guang was there to give them to him. Cheng Xiaoshi doesn’t want to upset him, doesn’t want to do anything to tilt the scales just in case Lu Guang decides he doesn’t want to be there anymore after all. That maybe “I’ll stay as long as I can,” will turn into, “that’s long enough.”
Cheng Xiaoshi has learned to not take anything for granted.
Sometimes he thinks that maybe Lu Guang wants to tell him, because he’ll glance at Cheng Xiaoshi and open his mouth and have this look in his eyes, this wild-eyed determination, a sort of desperation that doesn’t fit into the moment they’re living in. One time Lu Guang goes so far as to reach out and put his fingers around Cheng Xiaoshi’s wrist, stopping him from playing a silly mobile game, and when Cheng Xiaoshi looks up at him expectantly, he exhales quietly, thumb against his pulse, and then lets go.
”Lu Guang?” Cheng Xiaoshi asks, mouth dry, but Lu Guang is already leaning back against the other end of the couch, face unreadable.
“Sorry,” he says, like Cheng Xiaoshi’s heartbeat hadn’t betrayed him and noticeably sped up under Lu Guang’s cool fingertips. “Go back to your game, Cheng Xiaoshi.”
And Cheng Xiaoshi does, glancing over the top of his phone with increasing frequency, but Lu Guang doesn’t look up at him for the rest of the night. It has to mean something, but Cheng Xiaoshi doesn’t know how to make sense of all of the little moments, how they add up to some kind of explanation for Lu Guang. The only thing he does know is that the more time they spend together, the more he gets to have of Lu Guang each and every day, the more he uncovers about Lu Guang’s likes and dislikes and everything in between — the more he wants. He wants it all.
.
Lu Guang having powers only explains some of the strangeness — Cheng Xiaoshi thinks it’s cool to be able to see 12 hours of someone’s life through a photograph, but he doesn’t think Lu Guang has been looking at photographs of him and doing that. Cheng Xiaoshi doesn’t even have that many photos on his social media — he prefers physical copies of photos, and he doesn’t really have the time to take them these days anyways. If Lu Guang is using his power to spy on Cheng Xiaoshi, he’s wasting his time when they spend nearly all of their time together anyways.
No, learning about Lu Guang’s powers had only provided a point of interest, not an answer. Cheng Xiaoshi thinks he can see a bigger picture starting to form, but he still doesn’t have a frame of reference, and Lu Guang is annoyingly good at distracting him from getting any additional information.
”It’s really not that interesting,” Lu Guang says, like having actual powers is just as commonplace as the clouds in the sky outside the little round window of the plane they’re on. Cheng Xiaoshi pouts hopefully at him, beatific, trying to ignore how uncomfortable the cramped seat has been for the last six hours, but Lu Guang is unmoved, nudging a little pack of nuts over onto Cheng Xiaoshi’s tray.
“You’re so mean,” Cheng Xiaoshi mutters, opening the packet and taking a handful before passing it back to Lu Guang. “I can’t believe you kept something like this from me. You’re too sneaky, Lu Guang.”
Lu Guang is silent for a long moment, toying with the half-empty bag of nuts. He inhales deeply and looks at Cheng Xiaoshi, eyes dark and serious.
“I will tell you everything, someday. I promise, Cheng Xiaoshi.” Lu Guang always sounds sincere when he speaks, like he’s taking an oath no matter how trivial the conversation. It sometimes makes it hard to parse his humor and sarcasm, but there’s no trace of amusement in his face now. He looks at Cheng Xiaoshi and there’s a whisper of that hungry gaze he’d seen all those months ago, like maybe Lu Guang’s been carrying the emotion around this whole time, just holding it in check so that it doesn’t show.
Cheng Xiaoshi believes him. If Lu Guang says he’ll tell him, he will.
Cheng Xiaoshi isn’t stupid. Lu Guang’s reluctance to tell him means it’s something he thinks Cheng Xiaoshi probably won’t want to hear. But he can’t fathom not wanting to know more about Lu Guang, can’t begin to imagine anything about Lu Guang’s powers that would make him reluctant to share. If Cheng Xiaoshi had powers, he would be so bad at not talking about it.
He nudges a shoulder against Lu Guang’s, a silent acceptance that makes Lu Guang quirk his mouth in a halfhearted smile. Cheng Xiaoshi likes that it’s easier and easier to figure out how to communicate with Lu Guang, likes that he’s starting to learn Lu Guang the way he’s been learned.
He leans back in his seat, eyes listing a little with exhaustion. They have other things to focus on right now, so he supposes he can give Lu Guang a break — but he adds Lu Guang’s hesitation and his promise to the little list of things he’s keeping track of, the things he’s not going to let go easily.
.
The heat of the fire still scorches his hands and face while he kneels on the ground in front of Lu Guang, gaze unfocused and empty. He can tell Lu Guang is saying something to him, can see the outline of his mouth moving over and over, the familiar shape of his own name, but he can’t hear anything.
He thinks the only thing he’ll ever hear again will be the roar of flames, the distant sound of screams, the buckle of wood and stone above and below and all around. He can’t breathe, and he doesn’t know if it’s because he’s forgotten how to or because the smoke is still inside his lungs. He stares at his hands on Lu Guang’s arms and thinks, Those are my hands. This is my body.
”Cheng Xiaoshi,” Lu Guang says, desperate, and Cheng Xiaoshi’s entire body flinches at the sudden shock of sound, fingers curling involuntarily too tight. Lu Guang doesn’t seem to notice, reaching with one hand to tilt Cheng Xiaoshi’s face in his direction, his grip gentle but firm on his chin. “Cheng Xiaoshi, what did you do?”
Hysteria rises in Cheng Xiaoshi’s chest like an overfilled balloon, straining at the edges of his ribs until he thinks he might pop. His first time seeing Lu Guang confused and overwhelmed, and he can’t even enjoy it because he’s going insane. His throat works, and he’s not sure if he’s going to laugh or start sobbing until he says, “I couldn’t — I couldn’t do anything.” His lungs burn, and he sucks in a breath but it doesn’t seem to help no matter how many times he does it, dizzy with the lack of air.
Lu Guang makes a noise — Cheng Xiaoshi is too lost to interpret it, but he can feel Lu Guang’s fingers tightening on his chin, can tell Lu Guang is trying to draw his attention again. It’s an effort to follow his unspoken instruction, to let Lu Guang’s face draw into focus again, but Lu Guang patiently waits, his dark eyes burning into Cheng Xiaoshi’s. He thinks, nonsensically, of the way they’d gleamed golden when they’d first met, how the sun had set off the ends of his pale hair like he was wearing a halo of light. He thinks about how much he’d wanted to know everything about Lu Guang even then. He’d learned a lot since then, but it never seemed to be enough.
”Cheng Xiaoshi, it’s okay.” Lu Guang’s mouth is moving again, and Cheng Xiaoshi can hear his voice, and his palms no longer burn, but the fuzzy feeling of his body still hasn’t settled. “Keep looking at me,” Lu Guang instructs, and Cheng Xiaoshi is helpless to do anything other than obey.
He has no idea how long they sit there, looking at one another while Cheng Xiaoshi’s lungs claw air into themselves bit by bit, while the buzzing in each of his limbs slowly quiets itself into the familiar pulse of blood, while tears track their way down his cheeks and catch on Lu Guang’s knuckles. When he can draw in a breath without gasping for more immediately after, Lu Guang’s grip loosens, sliding down to settle on Cheng Xiaoshi’s shoulder.
“Lu Guang,” Cheng Xiaoshi whispers, and it’s an unbearable ache to speak but he has to, he has to know. “I think it’s time for you to explain things.”
Lu Guang’s expression is heartbreakingly vulnerable for a moment, a side of him that Cheng Xiaoshi has been yearning to see for months finally bared for him to see, and he wants to laugh at the irony of everything, that he actually thinks Lu Guang was right and he’s not going to want to hear it after all — but then Lu Guang visibly collects himself and leans back on his heels, closing his eyes for a long moment.
Even now, in the middle of what is arguably one of the worst moments of his life, Cheng Xiaoshi can’t help but think about how unfairly beautiful he is.
Lu Guang makes Cheng Xiaoshi stand up, and Cheng Xiaoshi is relieved to find that he really does have all his limbs, and they are all his own, and he can use them to hold himself up for the brief moment before Lu Guang draws him over to the bed and guides him to sit back down. Lu Guang hovers next to the bed for a moment, rumpled cat pajamas and shuttered eyes so incongruous that Cheng Xiaoshi fears he’s going to start laughing hysterically after all, but then he sits down next to Cheng Xiaoshi, a careful distance between them.
He begins to speak, slowly at first but growing faster as he goes on, like he’s trying to get it over with. Cheng Xiaoshi listens, watching the twitch of Lu Guang’s brows and the curl of his mouth, looking for any signs of something unsaid, but all he can see is Lu Guang’s normal expression, quiet and calm and familiar. Cheng Xiaoshi can’t see the difference at all.
Nausea roils in his stomach, bitter and sharp in the back of his throat. Qiao Ling was right — he’s an idiot.
”Cheng Xiaoshi,” Lu Guang says, his gaze searching, and Cheng Xiaoshi swallows hard and looks up at him, wills himself to crack a weak smile.
“I’m listening, Lu Guang,” he says.
.
That night he lays in the bed next to Lu Guang’s and listens to the sound of Lu Guang not sleeping either.
There’s so much left unspoken between them that it almost feels like they’ve met again for the first time — Cheng Xiaoshi’s chest thrums with the same giddy anxiety he felt that day when Lu Guang had grabbed his wrist, the nerves of knowing you’ve found yourself in a dark room on a precipice but not understanding where the ledge is. He wonders what Lu Guang is thinking, can practically hear the whir of his mind from where he lays only feet away; he wonders if Lu Guang is wondering what he’s thinking, too.
Cheng Xiaoshi doesn’t know what to think. He’s always adapted to things because he had to, but that doesn’t mean it gets any easier, doesn’t mean the ache of feeling helpless and lost doesn’t squeeze his heart tighter and tighter. He knows what happened — he lived it, he can’t deny it — but it still feels impossible. He just wants answers, wants to know what happened to his parents and if they knew about this, wants someone to look him in the eye and give him a solution in a pretty box with a bow so he doesn’t have to keep trying so hard to keep up.
The worst part is that he still wants to trust Lu Guang.
No, maybe the worst part is that what he really wants is to crawl into Lu Guang’s bed, wants Lu Guang to wrap an arm around his body and hold him together, wants to know he won’t let Cheng Xiaoshi disappear in the middle of the night and open his eyes in a different body again. He wants to feel the reassuring pulse of Lu Guang’s heartbeat under his palm, wants the warmth of someone else nearby to remind him that he’s not alone, not anymore.
He doesn’t do any of that. He makes himself lay still, hands carefully on opposite sides of his body. Neither of them move until the sun begins to creep over the edge of the horizon, casting the room in shades of gray.
.
It would be easier if he didn’t like Lu Guang so much, but Cheng Xiaoshi is too honest to deny it. He still inexplicably feels drawn to Lu Guang, but he holds himself back, trying to be objective, trying to listen to the Qiao Ling in his head for once.
But Lu Guang is so…Lu Guang.
His voice in Cheng Xiaoshi’s head for the first time makes him shiver; it’s just as deep and steady as ever, but it’s inside of him now, and it feels like Lu Guang is pressed close, mouth to his ear. He’s careful as he guides Cheng Xiaoshi through the photograph that Wang Qing took ten years ago, and all at once Cheng Xiaoshi thinks about what it must have been like for Lu Guang, reliving the lives of the people in the photographs he’s seen — good, bad, ugly, he must have seen them all, but he’d been all alone.
He’d said he found out about his power when he was seven. Cheng Xiaoshi can’t imagine Lu Guang being so young, almost smiles to imagine his serious little face, but the idea of him experiencing the effect of his power before he was even really able to live his own life makes Cheng Xiaoshi’s heart clench. Was that an explanation for the way he was now, cool and serene as a sheet of ice across a calm lake in winter and nearly as silent? Had he grown up learning the rules of his powers on his own, had his father helped? Cheng Xiaoshi is bursting with questions he can’t bring himself to ask. He doesn’t know if Lu Guang would answer.
Being in a different body is easier when you know it’s going to happen. Being a teenage girl is weird for the split second his mind remembers his own body, but he adjusts without really registering it, accepts Wang Qing’s life as his own while keeping Lu Guang anchored in the back of his mind, a lighthouse guiding him to shore. How is this possible? he wonders to himself, smoothing a hand down the skirt of his uniform dress. The texture of the fabric is familiar and unfamiliar all at once, rough wool he’s felt a hundred times and never before all at once.
It’s possible because it’s you, Cheng Xiaoshi. Lu Guang’s voice is a drop of warmth in his chest, a balm over his nerves, a flutter in his chest. It’s so much easier today to forget his insecurity of the night before, to forgive the gaps in Lu Guang’s explanation, to hold tight to the obvious affection Lu Guang inexplicably has for him and ignore everything else. Cheng Xiaoshi knows that it’s stupid, knows he should at least try to keep Lu Guang at arms length, but it’s hard to ignore the memory of his thumb pressed to his chin last night, his eyes pinning Cheng Xiaoshi in place, implacable and strong in all the ways Cheng Xiaoshi couldn’t be.
It’s Lu Guang who gets him through his unexpected reunion with his father in a strange girl’s body. It’s Lu Guang who catches his own shaking body when he opens his eyes again, who grabs his trembling hands and steers him to sit on the bed and then kneels in front of him, watching as Cheng Xiaoshi clenches his fists and doesn’t let the tears in his eyes fall.
The unspoken sits between them — Cheng Xiaoshi is too heartsick to do more than let Lu Guang sit quietly at his feet, his hand pressed firmly against Cheng Xiaoshi’s knee. He wishes, abruptly and fiercely, that they were two normal boys on a summer trip together, that no missing parents or supernatural powers were hovering on the edge of their every interaction. He wishes he’d taken advantage of his ignorance when he’d had it, wishes he’d given into at least one of his urges to kiss Lu Guang in the dappled sunlight of the studio, to press him into the couch and warm his cool hands with his own. He wishes for a lot of things, all the time, and receives very few.
.
After they get home, life continues as if Bridon had never happened at all, like it wasn’t another catastrophic turning point of his life. School has always been little more than a stopgap for Cheng Xiaoshi, who knows now more than ever that he’s never going to leave his studio, but it becomes harder to pay attention in class than ever. Qiao Ling takes to sitting next to him and pinching his leg to make him focus, her mouth pursed in the way that says she’s worried and doesn’t want to bring it up until he’s ready. Siblings always know one another’s boundaries and Qiao Ling and Cheng Xiaoshi have always known how and when to push each other, and he’s grateful she’s giving him room to breathe right now. He knows it won’t last forever, because Qiao Ling is a lot of things and patient is not one of them.
Lu Guang has been quietly — content, is the only way Cheng Xiaoshi can describe it. He also knows the broad strokes of Cheng Xiaoshi’s pain and confusion, if not the specifics Cheng Xiaoshi can’t give him, and gives him his space. He wakes without complaint, and he makes perfect rice and gives Cheng Xiaoshi the first bowl, and he smiles a little more easily. He’s at Cheng Xiaoshi’s side throughout the day, calm and present. He stays, and he stays, and he stays, and Cheng Xiaoshi sometimes can’t swallow around the ache in his chest when he wakes up and hears Lu Guang rolling over above him, grumbling incoherently.
It makes it easier to forgive Lu Guang his secrets when Cheng Xiaoshi has garnered his own, and he feels himself softening again, seeking out the sounds and sights of Lu Guang in their home. Without really noticing, he’s lost whatever objective ground he might have gained in Bridon in almost no time at all. It’s Lu Guang, and Cheng Xiaoshi is realizing he’s always going to be drawn to him.
A year passes and Cheng Xiaoshi learns to make Lu Guang’s tea a little stronger than his own. He learns Lu Guang’s feet are always cold, no matter how many socks he wears, and he learns that Lu Guang laughs unreservedly when you tickle him in his side. A year passes and his parents do not come home.
They experiment with dives a little more, Lu Guang staunchly repeating his rules before every attempt. Cheng Xiaoshi learns to inhabit another body like it’s his own, learns to ignore the sense memory of another person’s toothpaste or the brush of long hair against his shoulder, things that sometimes linger long after he’s come back. He can’t get rid of the emotions, but he doesn’t mind, not really. It’s a little nice to be able to feel like someone else for a while.
“I want to help people,” he tells Lu Guang one evening, both of them standing at their tiny sink as they clean up after dinner. Lu Guang pauses almost imperceptibly, glancing sideways at him. Cheng Xiaoshi wishes he would at least pretend not to understand him immediately.
He crooks a grin at Lu Guang, aiming for nonchalant. “What’s the point of our practice if we aren’t going to put it to good use, hm? And think of the extra money we could bring in. We could afford that fancy tea you like, Lu Guang.” He’s playing up the conversation, but he also knows, deep in his bones, that Lu Guang will do this with him. He thinks of puzzle pieces, curved edges meeting perfectly no matter their shape, made to inevitably match each other.
Lu Guang smiles back at him, small but true.
.
Being shot with an actual gun hurts, it turns out.
The whole night is a blur of noise and blood and pain, but somehow the thing he remembers most clearly, even over the agony of having his skin split around the white hot stab of the bullet, is the sound of Lu Guang shouting when Cheng Xiaoshi had been shot.
It’s silly that it would stand out so much — who wouldn’t panic when their best friend was nearly killed in front of them like that? He’d felt that terror himself, thinking Qiao Ling was going to be the one who was hit, but Lu Guang had screamed. It had been guttural, like Lu Guang was the one who’d been shot, like he was dragging the sound out of the depths of his body, awful and ragged.
His dark eyes had been wild with grief and rage when he’d attacked Qian Jin, almost mindless, and Cheng Xiaoshi can’t seem to forget it. He can’t forget the sound of Lu Guang’s fist connecting with Qian Jin’s face, over and over, even as Cheng Xiaoshi called his name.
Laying in the hospital bed later that night he fights the effects of the painkillers they’d given him, struggling to think, trying to place why that moment stands out to him in a night filled with moments he’s probably going to have nightmares about for the rest of his life. He knows Lu Guang cares about him — he knows Lu Guang might even care about him the way Cheng Xiaoshi cares about Lu Guang, even if he can’t bring himself to examine the thought too closely.
Of course Lu Guang would be upset at the thought of his best friend dying. Cheng Xiaoshi knows only too well how the thought of Lu Guang dying nearly tore apart his entire world, how it reshaped his life into a before and after he’d thought he’d never have to experience again. He’d spent those scant hours of thinking Lu Guang was gone spiraling into someone he almost didn’t recognize, someone who would do anything to change reality.
Something tugs at his murky consciousness, but he’s so exhausted he can’t bring it into the light.
The ceiling blurs above him, a pale beige expanse that offers no answers. Cheng Xiaoshi falls asleep thinking of holding a phone in his hand, staring at a lock screen.
When he wakes up fifteen hours later, the thought is waiting for him patiently, as if it always had been there, lingering out of sight.
He stares wide eyed up at the ceiling above his hospital bed, his chest tight, thinking about golden eyes in the sunset and cans of soda and promises. He thinks about Lu Guang’s voice in his head, telling him to never change the past, that important nodes must always be left alone, that he had to follow Lu Guang’s every instruction.
He thinks again about how Lu Guang had screamed in that dark tunnel.
“Oh my god,” he says out loud, just to hear himself say it. A nurse bustles into the room a moment later, fussing over his vitals and checking his wound with a clucking sound.
He asks her about the other boy who’d been brought back in, the one with the stab wounds, and she purses her mouth, clearly judging him for not only being shot but associating with someone who was stabbed as well.
“He’s recovering in another room right now,” she tells him, setting aside the chart she’d been updating.
“Can I see him?” Cheng Xiaoshi asks, fluttering his eyelashes hopefully. She frowns at him for a long moment, then softens a little at the edges, sighing. His heart monitor ticks in the background steadily, even though he’s holding his breath, not sure what answer he really wants her to give.
”I’ll see if someone can wheel you into his room tomorrow, if you’re a good boy and take all your medication on time when your nurse comes in this evening.” She points a pen at him. “For today, you are resting. Don’t test me.”
Cheng Xiaoshi promises to be the perfect patient, smiling at her brightly until she leaves the room. His smile drops off of his face when the door closes behind her, and he closes his eyes, exhausted.
Lu Guang, he thinks helplessly. Did you really do what I think you did?
.
Lu Guang is as pale as the white bedsheets on his bed, circles dark under his eyes. Cheng Xiaoshi almost wants to ask the nurse to wheel him back out of the room, just so Lu Guang can get the rest he so clearly needs — but Lu Guang looks at him like he’s been wanting to see him, a hint of brightness in his dark gaze, and Cheng Xiaoshi can’t look away. He’s never been able to resist Lu Guang.
”Hi,” he says quietly, running his fingers along the starched edges of Lu Guang’s bed. Lu Guang’s mouth quirks a little at the corner, like he’s swallowing a laugh. There’s relief in his eyes that Cheng Xiaoshi knows he would never say aloud, because they’ve both decided not to acknowledge the thing that sits between them. Cheng Xiaoshi has always had his own reasons, and he thinks he knows now what Lu Guang’s were as well.
“Hi,” Lu Guang replies. His fingers twitch on the bed, curling in and then out. “The nurse said — she said you were going to make a full recovery.”
“Yeah,” Cheng Xiaoshi says, eyes on Lu Guang’s own wound, where it’s already turning pink in the center of his bandages. “Your stitches were apparently the worst the hospital has ever seen. Overachiever.” It’s easy to talk to him, the way it always is. Cheng Xiaoshi hates him for it a little.
Lu Guang rolls his eyes. “I’m fine.”
Cheng Xiaoshi can’t help but smile at his petulant tone — Lu Guang is as uninterested in attention as ever — but the smile fades after only a moment. Lu Guang notices, because Lu Guang notices everything about Cheng Xiaoshi. Cheng Xiaoshi contemplates that for a long moment, sketching his fingers across the bedspread in a vague circle.
“Did you go all the way back to the beginning?” he asks.
Lu Guang’s fingers curl in on themselves sharply in a fist. Neither of them is breathing, and then Lu Guang relaxes his hand again and leans his head back against his pillow, exhaling softly.
”Yes,” he says, and oh, misery is etched in every line on his face. His entire body radiates pain and exhaustion, and Cheng Xiaoshi almost can’t bear to look at him, but he also can’t bring himself to look away. “It was my final chance.”
Heartbeat thudding in his ears, Cheng Xiaoshi draws another absent circle on the bed, swallowing hard. He thinks, wildly, that they’re both lucky they’ve been injured — he’s not sure if he could have kept himself from doing something stupid otherwise, like punching Lu Guang in the face again. Instead he sits there, mind whirling, trying to reconcile every shared moment between them with this new truth.
It’s Lu Guang, he thinks, lost. Lu Guang, who made the rules sound like unbreakable, fundamental laws of the universe, who impressed upon him with unflinching truth in his tone that the past could never, ever be touched. Lu Guang, who has now confessed to him that he did it anyways, and doesn’t even have the courtesy to sound sorry about it.
”You said not to change anything,” he says. It’s not as accusatory as he wants it to sound, too overwhelmed to be angry, so he finally looks up at Lu Guang and glares, clenching his own fist. ”You told me—“
”It was you, Cheng Xiaoshi,” Lu Guang says, as if that’s an acceptable answer to literally admitting to possibly destroying the fabric of time and space. Maybe to Lu Guang it is, but Cheng Xiaoshi feels the reality of the situation settling over him like a heavy cloud, obscuring his vision.
”Lu Guang,” he says, feeling a little frantic, “What does that even mean, what did you do—“
Lu Guang interrupts him again, reaching out to put the tips of his fingers on the back of Cheng Xiaoshi’s hand. “Cheng Xiaoshi, take a breath.”
He didn’t even realize he was starting to gasp for air, and he hates Lu Guang a little more for how grateful he is, how his calm, deep voice can still stop him from truly panicking. His side aches under his stitches, the drugs wearing off a little, but he barely notices it as he takes air carefully into his lungs, watching Lu Guang’s chest rising in tandem, taking his cues to slow his pace to something manageable.
Lu Guang’s fingers are cold on his skin, but they’re firm. He’s watching Cheng Xiaoshi intently, and Cheng Xiaoshi realizes with a start that the hunger he’d thought he’d only glimpsed all those years ago is in the open now, blazing out of Lu Guang’s face like fire. It’s eclipsing all of the familiar steady facade of him, makes him look ethereally beautiful all at once, even with the pallor of his skin and the circles under his eyes. He’s staring at Cheng Xiaoshi with obvious, ravenous desire, and it makes Cheng Xiaoshi’s pulse trip, adrenaline rushing through his system. He thinks, nonsensically, of cats and mice.
“I’m not sorry,” Lu Guang says, and because it’s Lu Guang it comes out like a promise, like an oath he would never fathom breaking. “I would do it again. I would do it a hundred times to keep you safe.”
Cheng Xiaoshi covers his face with the hand not pressed under Lu Guang’s fingertips, shaking slightly. He’s not sure if he’s going to start laughing or crying, emotion so jumbled inside of him that it’s undefinable. All he can do is feel it, struggle through the enormity of what Lu Guang is unrepentantly telling him.
“You told me,” he finally manages to say, “that it was dangerous. That people could die.”
“Yes,” Lu Guang says. Cheng Xiaoshi knows without lifting his head that Lu Guang is still staring at him, can feel the white hot heat of his gaze like physical touch. His head hurts. He’s thinking about Lu Guang watching him but never getting caught, his hand against Cheng Xiaoshi’s pillow. “That’s still true.”
”And you still—“ He can’t finish the sentence. Lu Guang has made it obvious that he would. That he did.
“I’m willing to accept the consequences,” Lu Guang murmurs, leaning back into his pillows. His gaze has softened enough Cheng Xiaoshi can look up at him without feeling scalded by it; he’s slumped down, his posture looser than Cheng Xiaoshi can ever remember. “It’s been so long,” Lu Guang says, closing his eyes with something like relief, “since I could talk to you like this.”
”Lu Guang,” Cheng Xiaoshi tells him, incredulous, “Do you think I won’t hit you? Because you were stabbed in your stomach, not your face. I’ll do it.”
“You can hit me,” Lu Guang says, serious as ever. His mouth curls, his eyes half-lidded. He’s not smug, nothing so self-serving, but there’s something close to satisfaction on his face. “You can do anything. You’re alive, and that’s all that matters to me.”
Cheng Xiaoshi’s fists clench in Lu Guang’s bedsheets, the cloth stiff against his skin. He doesn’t know what to do, what to say — this is Lu Guang, but it’s suddenly not, more a stranger than his best friend. But maybe he’s actually more Lu Guang than before, maybe he’s a Lu Guang Cheng Xiaoshi had once known more than anyone ever had, but then he’d…
He shies away from the thought of his own death and retreats to the safer ground of being upset at Lu Guang.
“You shouldn’t get to make that decision,” he says, staring at his own hands, knuckles nearly as white as the sheets he’s gripping. “My life for someone else’s. You told me that the past was the past, that it couldn’t be changed. I’m not more important than anyone else.”
”Cheng Xiaoshi, I’m not you.” Lu Guang’s voice is almost kind. “I was always so strict with you because you could never live with yourself if you caused harm to anyone, because you’re a good person. You love everyone you’ve ever met nearly unconditionally, even when they didn’t deserve it.” His face darkens a little, and he continues, “Especially when they didn’t deserve it. You would tear yourself apart for someone in a heartbeat. I’m not like you. To me, you are more important than anyone else. You’re the only person I would ever do this for, and I don’t care about who else it hurts. I’m not a good person, and maybe I shouldn’t get to make the decision I made, but I did it.”
It’s maybe the most Lu Guang has ever spoken at once. Cheng Xiaoshi realizes he’s going to cry just as his vision blurs, heat prickling the edges of his eyes. He knows, he knows, he knows that what Lu Guang is saying is awful, that he shouldn’t let him say things like that, that Cheng Xiaoshi spoke the truth when he said he wasn’t more important than anyone else.
But no one has ever told him that he was.
“Xiaoshi,” Lu Guang says gently.
His hand is cool and soft against Cheng Xiaoshi’s flushed cheek, and Cheng Xiaoshi tilts his face against his palm without thinking, letting him hold the weight of his head for just a moment. He feels weightless, like the only thing tethering him to the ground is this touch. Lu Guang doesn’t say anything else, just lets him stay there, eyes closed, tears clinging to his lashes.
He goes back to his room. Lu Guang watches him leave quietly.
.
Cheng Xiaoshi isn’t an idiot. He’s never been good at hiding his feelings, and he’s not as well read as Lu Guang or as smart as Xu Shanshan, but he’s not stupid either. He knows, deep down, that people lie to other people all the time. That sometimes wanting things doesn’t make them true, that people make and break promises as easily as twigs underfoot. He knows the shape of a selfish choice, the way it ruined the only childhood he’ll ever have, and he knows that he’ll never be able to forget that.
He sits in his hospital bed and looks out of the window, watches the pinpricks of people walking around the city. He wonders if any of them have ever loved someone enough to kill for them. To risk dying for them. He wonders if that’s the kind of love his mother has for his father. I’m willing to accept the consequences, Lu Guang had said. Cheng Xiaoshi thinks of every birthday he’s lived through on his own, of scraped knees with clumsy bandages and the hundreds of thousands of tears he’s shed with his back against his front door.
His stomach clenches at the thought of Lu Guang loving him that way.
You almost did the same thing, part of him whispers. He’d only restrained himself because of Lu Guang himself, in the end.
Cheng Xiaoshi closes his eyes and sighs. His wound throbs faintly, a personal reminder of his own rash decisions, and he wonders if Lu Guang is in pain. If he’s wondering about Cheng Xiaoshi. If he’s still sure he made the right choice when Cheng Xiaoshi could decide to never see him again for it.
Somehow he knows the answer, and it makes his heart beat harder, ache a little more.
Cheng Xiaoshi opens his eyes and watches the sun sneak its way across the sky outside. He thinks about how his life has been a collection of terrible choices, his own and everyone else’s. He’s not sure he knows any other way to live.
.
Once Qiao Ling has gone home from their welcoming party, a whirlwind of bright smiles and strange looks, and it’s just the two of them, Cheng Xiaoshi doesn’t know what to do.
They’ve lived together for so long that the sound of Lu Guang getting a glass of water should be a comfort, but it’s like being awake that night in Bridon all over again — so much is unspoken between them, and neither of them is willing to bridge the gap.
Cheng Xiaoshi sits on the couch, absently toying with a leaf from one of his plants. Qiao Ling had done a good job of taking care of them, but there’s a few looking a little yellow at the edges of their fronds, and he mentally catalogues the plants he’ll need to pay attention to. It’s a welcome distraction, but it doesn’t keep him from noticing Lu Guang coming to stand in the doorway.
When he tilts his head up, Lu Guang is looking back. Neither of them bother to turn away.
“I can leave,” Lu Guang says. He’s serious as always, and that knowledge makes Cheng Xiaoshi’s heart lurch unpleasantly in his chest.
”Why?” he asks, and then feels stupid. Of course he knows why, but he can’t believe Lu Guang is going to be the one to bring this up now, two months after they’ve last had a real conversation about it.
”The most important thing to me is that you’re okay,” Lu Guang says, lifting one shoulder. “That means that if you don’t want me here, I’m willing to leave.”
Cheng Xiaoshi bites his lip, letting go of his plant and setting his hands on his thighs to keep them from shaking. “Do you want to leave?” he asks, dread creeping up his spine. Lu Guang smiles a little, the smallest curve of his cheek.
“I told you once that I would stay with you for as long as I could,” Lu Guang tells him. He doesn’t step any closer, but Cheng Xiaoshi feels the presence of him anyway, feels the warmth of his voice like a touch on his cheek. It’s still grounding, still pins him in place. “I meant that. I’ll never leave you unless you want me to.”
Cheng Xiaoshi’s first, instinctive thought is I’ll never want you to leave.
And he knows it. He’s never going to stop loving Lu Guang, he realizes with a sensation like dawn breaking over the horizon, a thought so bright it’s hard to look at directly. It doesn’t matter what happens next, what either of them do. They’re going to love one another anyway. He knows it, and it’s terrifying, and it’s awful, and he feels so abruptly, horribly glad for it that it makes him stand up all at once, blood rushing to his head.
“Stay,” is all he manages to say, choked out between his teeth, before he’s crossing the room, Lu Guang meeting him halfway, their mouths crashing together like fists.
It’s not a kind kiss by any means but it’s real, and it’s him, and it’s Lu Guang, twining around one another like puzzle pieces, like they’re trying to grind down their rough edges until they fit together the way he’s always thought they would. He can’t breathe around Lu Guang’s mouth, feels a hand pulling roughly at his hair, sliding down his back, and he grabs fistfuls of Lu Guang’s shirt and jerks hard, deepening the kiss until they’re both gasping for air.
He bites at Lu Guang and laughs when it makes him curse, something close to hysteria on the tip of his tongue; he swallows it down when Lu Guang only kisses him harder, both of them clinging to each other. Lu Guang had played calm and collected, but Cheng Xiaoshi can feel his fingers digging into his hips, can feel the way his breathing is starting to pitch up. That hunger back in his face, swallowing his pupils in his eyes until they’re pitch black. It absurdly makes Cheng Xiaoshi feel calmer in contrast, steadies him a little to know that it would hurt Lu Guang just as much to leave him as it would hurt him to be left.
“Lu Guang,” he whispers against Lu Guang’s mouth, pressing a hand to his shoulder until he stops trying to kiss his way down Cheng Xiaoshi’s neck. “Lu Guang,” he insists, biting back a laugh at the petulant look on his face as he finally pulls away. “We need to talk about this.”
Lu Guang blinks at him, hair mussed, mouth red. After a moment, he sighs, rubbing his thumb firmly at Cheng Xiaoshi’s waist, a pointed reproach he doesn’t have to vocalize. Cheng Xiaoshi can read him easily now, and it makes him feel giddy. “You would choose this moment to start taking things seriously.”
”I take everything seriously,” Cheng Xiaoshi says, false affront coloring his voice. He presses a soft kiss to Lu Guang’s mouth, quirking his own wryly. “And this is important. I want to know about it.”
Lu Guang’s hands spasm at his waist, then grip harder, an unconscious motion. His face, so open only a moment ago, shutters a little. Cheng Xiaoshi holds him tighter too, even though Lu Guang hadn’t actually pulled away.
“I have to know,” Cheng Xiaoshi tells him, aware of the tremble in his voice but unable to keep it out, “if we’re going to face this together. I want to trust you, Lu Guang.” He pauses, swallowing hard. “I need to trust you. Because it’s you.”
Lu Guang looks at him for a long moment, something like fear haunting his dark eyes, and Cheng Xiaoshi understands all at once that he’s asking for everything Lu Guang has tried to protect him from, for all of the hurt and pain and loss that Lu Guang has endured, and that Lu Guang will give it to him, because Lu Guang will do anything for him.
Cheng Xiaoshi will do anything for him, too. He wonders if he’s as good of a person as Lu Guang seems to think he is.
It’s quiet in their home for a long time, both of them watching one another. The sun shifts in the sky, golden in Lu Guang’s pale hair, casting shadows on the wall in the shapes of their silhouettes. They’ve fit together after all, he thinks, seeing the perfectly solid outline of them in the corner of his eye.
“Alright,” Lu Guang says eventually, just as Cheng Xiaoshi knew he would, and Cheng Xiaoshi smiles at him and accepts a smaller smile in return. He leads Lu Guang over to their couch in the waning sunshine and sits down with him, and lets Lu Guang tell him everything.