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The first thing that returned was his hearing. The sound of a zipper being slowly pulled. It resonated through the air, vibrated through his skull.
The next was simply feeling.
That, alone, was near overwhelming. Too sudden. Too much.
It started from the tips of his fingers and toes. Cold. Like snow falling on a rotten carcass. Like blood freezing to ice. Like a dead body at the ground of the river.
Dead.
He was dead, wasn't he? He couldn't feel his heart. He couldn't feel himself breathe. He wasn't breathing, but his lungs weren't burning, not yet.
It was an odd feeling. Alive, but dead. Aware, but not awake. Stuck in a limbo between life and death.
Vein didn't shiver. If he could move, he would've. It was cold. So cold. If he were breathing, he swore his breath would've left in puffs of small clouds, like a warm breath on icy winter days.
But it wasn't winter. Last he'd checked, it had been the middle of summer.
His eyes were glued shut. He saw nothing. He was caught in darkness. No matter how desperately he wanted to, he couldn't will them open.
Perhaps it were minutes. Hours. Days. Years. It felt like eternity, when truly, it could only have been seconds.
His heart lurched to life, racing like that of a poor little bunny chased and about to be devoured by the big bad wolf. How humiliating. His eyes snapped open, and for a moment the flimsy, flickering lights blinded him.
Then he sucked in a breath.
Long, sharp, deep.
His chest filled itself with air, his lungs expanded... and he released the breath. It wasn't enough. He needed more. There didn't seem to be enough air.
It was hard to tell how long he laid there, still inside an open body bag, panting like a rabbit who'd just barely escaped the sharp maws of death by ducking into its warren. Heart pounding in his chest, blood rushing in his ears.
He could hear nothing but his own pulse.
Eventually, he sat up. A hint too fast, for dizziness and a sudden, sharp pain that felt like his head was split in two by an axe overtook him. Vein felt as though he'd hit back a whole bottle of whiskey.
His chest and stomach felt as though he'd been sliced open, slowly and meticulously, like a slab of dead meat on a butcher's table, turned into the finest cuts. A part of him wanted to laugh, at the image of himself being turned into dinner.
He only managed a wheeze.
Vein swayed, his arms refusing to obey as if they'd locked up from the sudden pain, and tilted sideways. For a long moment, he thought he was going to topple off the table like a fool. He hadn't humiliated himself in years.
Instead, a hand caught his shoulder. Held him and kept him from falling. It wasn't much better than falling, beyond preventing pain. It stung his pride all the same.
Vein could feel the touch through the layers of his clothes. He shivered. The hand was warm. It made him feel even colder than he already was.
He glanced up, caught dark blue eyes. His lips pulled into what could've been either smile or scowl. He was too exhausted to care.
Liu Xiao smiled, calm and collected. "Looks like that took a bit out of you, hm?" he said, and Vein refused to deign it with an answer. Instead he managed to maneuver his limbs into cooperating, pushing the other away with a hint more force than he usually would've.
Either Liu Xiao expected it, smart bastard that he was, or could tell his bad mood. Though he did frown, just a hint, when Vein swung his legs over the edge of the table. It was graceless, and the redhead's skin crawled.
"You're in no state to-" the dark haired young man started, but Vein was hearing none of it. He simply got up.
Or, well, that was his intention. Instead his knees buckled and he stumbled forward. If it weren't for Liu Xiao catching him, he would've fallen on his face.
All in all, he could definitely say that coming back from the dead was an all around humiliating experience.
Especially when it was a college student, of all people, who had to catch him.
At least it was a handsome one, though that was the least of his concerns.
Their faces were inches apart, and the younger man grinned. "Looks like you fell for me," he quipped, tone light despite the situation, "again"
Vein scowled. Under other circumstances, maybe he would've flirted back. As it was, his irritation was by far winning.
"What, pray tell, happened?" he asked sharply, but didn't push him away again. Humiliating as it was, he needed the help. Needed help simply standing. Whatever happened left him drained, exhausted.
The last thing he remembered...
Golden eyes. Blond hair. A woman kneeling on the ground. Wang Qing. Chris.
" XIAO WEIYING!"
Stopping in his tracks. His own laugh dying in his throat, a sharp pain in his chest.
When he blinked back into the here and now, it was to Liu Xiao staring at him with barely hidden concern, a soft and questioning "Vein?" on his lips.
His chest ached in the same way that a stab wound did. Kind of. Well, more like a cut. Dimly, he felt as though something had torn. With Liu Xiao looking at him like that, it slid down his list of concerns by a landslide.
Vein, Vein, Vein. That's who he was, to the other. That's who he had to be. Himself.
Vein averted his eyes all the same, glanced to the door. "Let's leave" was all he managed to get out.
~
At first, he stayed within Liu Xiao's home. A small building at the edge of the city. Less pompous than the Liu-Family likely tended to live in.
Liu Xiao seemed at ease within it. Vein did not share that ease.
Being couped up was horrendous. Especially after the first evening...
"I can walk" he snaps at Liu Xiao, heading up the stairs. From the bedroom, he grabs a shirt that was likely too large on Liu Xiao's shorter frame. It'd likely fit him. Hopefully. It didn't matter.
He sighs, tugging his shirt over his head on the bathroom. Upon attempting the same with his turtleneck, he has to clench his teeth. A sudden, sharp pain shoots through him.
Ah, so I did bleed, he thinks dryly, and steps into the bathroom. Closes the door behind himself.
When he finally frees himself, he instantly wishes he didn't.
He reaches up a hand, doesn't even try to fight the tremble. His fingers trace across a barely healing, sewn-shut cut that runs from his collarbone to just below his sternum, merging with a cut mirroring it from the other side.
Like an 'Y', they merge and run down. His fingers trace down as well. Down his chest, stopping just above his navel despite the gruesome sight continuing down further. Stopping at where dried blood crusts around torn stitches.
He shudders. Part of him wants to call Liu Xiao. Ask for answers, beg for help- but he's not Xiao Weiying. He's not a child. He's Vein. He's independend, he doesn't need help.
He can stitch his own wounds.
It was a good thing he hasn't eaten in who-knows-how-long, for he can feel the acidic taste in the back of throat.
When all is finally said and done, he had dinner with Liu Xiao as if nothing had transpired. Retreats into the guestroom, locks the door and stares at the wall the entire night.
He'd apologize to Liu Xiao for his odd behavior in the morning, carefully refraining from mentioning... recent findings.
~
He couldn't return to his own home. That became certain not even a day after his... revival.
Xia Fei frequently visited it, out of loneliness, most likely. Vein, wisely, kept his distance.
What was Xia Fei more than a broke college student and model? To him, perhaps, a dear friend. The biggest kindness he could grant him was to leave him be, let him live his life like any other person.
He did hide a note in his favorite book, one day during which Xia Fei had classes. He still had his key, and it wasn't breaking and entering if it was his own place. If anyone saw, they likely assumed him to be a ghost.
A simple apology was all he wrote, in neat and tidy handwriting, dating it back by a few months prior to his 'death'.
If you find this, my main job caught up to me. I'm sorry. It was nice having a friend.
And he meant it. In a dog-eat-dog world like Bridon's underground? In a world of faked smiles such as the model industry? Having a genuine friend had meant a lot, even if he'd been terrible at being a friend himself.
He didn't notice losing his earring.
Instead, he returned to Liu Xiao's home. Ignored the other's knowing glance. But his boyfriend didn't comment, only returned to reading a textbook which's title Vein couldn't read from where he stood.
Liu Xiao, two days later, gifted him a new earring and he felt disappointed in himself that he hadn't realized that his own was missing until then.
~
He took anything outside the light back with ease in less than two weeks after his supposed passing. Slid into it like fangs into tender flesh. Spilled blood in his wake, when he had to. More often than not his mere presence was enough.
A vengeful ghost returning from the grave with fire and fury, dragging a startled nobody from his seat with his bare hands and a sharp glare, sitting down like he owned the place in the nobody's stead after shooting him point blank.
Vein did own the place, for that matter.
He had ever since the previous boss passed away.
Yet his movements were still slower than they used to be, whenever the need for violence arose. Stiffer. The injury, and he refused to call it what it was, was still tender and the stitches annoyingly fragile.
He could attest, he'd redone the stitches often enough to stop poking himself by accident.
Nothing a gun and bullets couldn't help with.
In all honesty, he preferred fighting up close and personal, outside out-right executions. Preferred seeing confidence break and crumble into fear and despair. Preferred getting his hands dirty- for if he had blood on his hands either way, he preferred being personal about it.
Liu Xiao never asked, whenever he came home covered in blood. He simply kissed his cheek in greeting, and moved on. Occasionally looked at him with an expression that bordered on fascinated.
One day, he came home to a dark cloak on the sofa, along with a disposable mask and a note. An address. A graveyard. A date. Ah. His funeral.
He was back, as far as the underworld knew: a deadly wraith that was either unkillable or undead.
But for the light? Vein, the manager of Bridon's most prestigious modeling agency, was dead and soon six feet under.
Returning would be fun, if he ever did.
~
Pitiful, was what he thought upon arriving, only three people.
Funerals were a fascinating affair to him. For you could clearly see who cared, and who pretended. Clearly, most of the people he'd worked with in his legal job cared extremely little.
He could spot his secretary, a young woman who'd grown unfazed to his antics after a week and who he'd all too gladly allowed her vacation with how much work she had to do.
One of the directors, an older gentleman who had been popular with most of the models for his calm nature. Vein had found his attitude towards him amusing- the guy had clearly disliked his manner of speech, but here he was.
The last one, surprisingly, was not Felix. It didn't sting. He'd memorized most of his employee's vacations to a T, it made work easier, and given that the blond had not rarely ranted to him about college classes and exams, he knew exactly where he was.
Final exams.
It was a pity, truly. And he'd truly love to smack whoever had set the date and time for the funeral in a way that didn't allow his friend to come. No matter, he could. Later, once he'd slunk back off to the underground.
The third visitor was an older model. Had been with the company ever since he'd become manager. They'd gotten along well enough, and that was that.
Three people, and the funeral director. Who was one of his own men, in truth, since neither him nor Liu Xiao had trusted a regular funeral director with the faked funeral. And that was it.
A part of Vein found it highly entertaining, another part was mildly offended.
But: Liu Xiao was there. With him, obviously, not at the closed casket holding a random man one of his... acquaintances had procured. A steadying presence. So four, not three.
The only reason his boyfriend was here, rather than in college, was because his final exams were on a different day. Different major, and all.
A hand found his own, squeezed. He squeezed back, lightly, and turned on his heel.
~
He found himself visiting the graveyard, occasionally. Always just out of sight of the actual grave. Leaning against the old willow tree, or sitting on an old gravestone worn down to the point the name could no longer be deciphered anymore.
He stuck to the cloak and mask, skillfully ignoring the dirty looks thrown his way.
The reason for his visits, however, always seemed to overlook him.
Xia Fei visited about as frequently as one could. Sometimes he left a bottle of wine, sometimes he simply sat and leaned against the cold stone. Occasionally he left as swift as he'd arrived, other times he seemed to talk with the wind for what felt like hours but were only thirty or so minutes.
Vein was too far away to hear what he said, never daring to get too close.
A hypocrite, is what he was. For he'd wanted his friend to have a normal life. He wanted to leave him be- yet here he was.
Watching him from the shadows.
A man like him was not made to have genuine connections. He was made for bloodshed like a hound was made for the hunt. He was made to bury his teeth in weaker men's throats, clamp down and tear them apart. Figuratively, that is.
Not that he'd mind taking it literal.
Point was: Xiao Weiying had been a person up until he died, and Vein was the darkness that remained and had slipped into the husk. Heartless, merciless.
Then Xia Fei had started working for him. A fun mixture of meek, terrified of losing his job by being even the slightest bit inconvenient, and bold in the way of speaking his mind whenever he got fed up with Vein's antics. He was amusing. Entertaining. Something fleeting.
Entertainment turned into fondness, over time. Something fleeting into something firm. He refused to call it friendship, despite his general lack of professionalism. But with how often he'd dragged Felix' drunk ass back to his college dorm, friends was the closest word, despite the many rumors floating about.
But that was all they were: rumors.
The same way he was unable to call what he had with Felix friendship, he struggled with calling what he had with Liu Xiao love, at first.
He still paused at the word, occasionally. Wondered to himself when he'd grown his heart back, when the coldness had begun to taw, when Xiao Weiying had begun to rear his head as if he hadn't died ages ago, and promptly did anything but think about it.
Point was: Vein was not made for genuine connections. Yet here he was.
In love with the youngest son of the Liu family, friends with his now-former employee.
His former employee who sat at his grave and cried. Drunk out of his mind.
Something red dangled from his ear. Vein refused to look closer. Simply turned and texted his boyfriend. Vanishing from the graveyard the second he'd received a confirmation.
~
Half a year gone from the light, and he'd grown utterly bored.
His entertainment stemmed mostly from screams and fear during 'work hours', and intertwined fingers and light kisses at home.
It was funny, truly, how he'd gone from hating being couped up inside the small house to only disliking the gilded cage.
It wasn't truly a cage, not when he was free to come and go as he pleased, but it was a hint fun to address it as such. Especially when he got an amused eye roll from Liu Xiao as a result.
Over the last couple of months, Liu Xiao slowly but surely had wormed his way closer to Xia Fei. Perhaps due to Vein's request to make sure the other made sure the model was safe, perhaps his own desire to make friends.
As he sat on the ground in front of the couch, with his back to it and caged between Liu Xiao's knees, he kept his eyes trained on the TV. Let the other mess with his hair. What had started as trying to re-braid his hair had turned into the younger man simply running his fingers through the red strands.
A gentle tug, a silent request for him to pay attention. He tilted his head, did nothing more. "I think we should give him the choice, on whether or not he wishes to help," Liu Xiao murmured, and Vein refrained from turning his head, "he's not how he used to be"
"Perhaps" he responded, with a sigh. Because he knew that Liu Xiao was right. Their mutual friend was a shell of his former self, caught in grief. Unaware that the friend he mourned wasn't six feet under, but sitting on an oak wood floor.
~
"You're alive"
Xia Fei stared at him, orange eyes wide in disbelief. Behind him, Vein watched Liu Xiao shrug. They'd decided weeks ago that they should let Xia Fei choose... yet something they hadn't planned on was Xia Fei being Xia Fei.
So they had been wholly unprepared for him to show up at Liu Xiao's place... right as Vein had been napping on the couch. A sleepy "What time is it?" coming over his lips with a stifled yawn when he'd heard steps approach the couch.
Then red had met orange, and both froze.
So there they were. Vein sitting on the couch with one leg crossed over the other, Xia Fei in the doorway to the living room with his mouth agape as if trying to catch flies and Liu Xiao in the hallway with an expression stuck between lost and amused.
"Disappointed?" he joked as he got to his feet, and paused when Xia Fei's eyes welled up with tears. Well. That had not been his intention. Perhaps it was guilt that he felt. He couldn't quite tell.
One second, Xia Fei was simply standing there. Then he moved. Fast. Rushing forward with no further warning.
Vein stumbled, just a little. An amused huff escaping him when Xia Fei latched onto him like a koala. Pat his head, grinning like a shark. "There there" he said, as if talking to a child. Ignored the tears seeping into his shirt.
Xia Fei's shoulders shook with barely suppressed sobs. Vein would've called him silly for trying to hide them, under other circumstances. "You asshole-" the blond managed, choking back another sob, "I thought you were dead, you ass. How dare you. And you- you were in on it? You really are a pain in the neck, you-"
And Vein laughed. The insults and rambles leaving him smiling, despite the guilt. In the doorway, Liu Xiao grinned.
"That's the Xia Fei we know"
~
Three years later, they sat together in Liu Xiao's home.
Vein on the floor, between Liu Xiao's legs. Basking in the attention that was the other braiding his hair. Xia Fei sprawled across the couch, feet propped up on one of Liu Xiao's thighs, much to the latter's mild annoyance. Yet he never did complain.
Eyes trained on the TV as a news report ran it's course. Listening to a report that would go viral in no time, given the subject of attention.
"Congrats, Fei Fei. You're officially missing~"
"... oh god I forgot that my parents are gonna see that-"
"Don't worry, everything will work out fine"