Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Stop that,” he muttered, attempting to be somewhat quiet so their teacher wouldn’t hear. He wasn’t sure that attempt worked, but he didn’t care. 

Currently, Nezha, Yin Nezha, was practically babysitting his desk mate. Said deskmate just so happened to be Rin — Fang Runin — only the most rebellious kid in the entirety of Sinegard High, in his opinion. He wasn’t sure how she was even still studying there, with how often she got in trouble for the most random things; just yesterday, she had skipped class to raid the teachers’ lounge for snacks, and the day before, she'd gotten sent to the principal because of arguing with a teacher (admittedly, over a point she was right about).

Today, her poison of choice was apparently to give Nezha a heart attack by playing with her lighter and almost setting one of her textbooks on fire. He silently thanked the gods that the window right next to them was open, and that they’d been seated at the back of the class, so he hoped that her antics wouldn't be noticed.

Rin merely held back a snicker, her lips curving up into a grin he’d call sadistic if he didn’t know any better. Well, in a way, it was. Because clearly, she enjoyed scaring him half to death every two goddamn minutes with some new “trick” of hers. “What, can’t handle a little flame?” She said, clearly seeking to piss him off further.

Nezha had only been seated with Rin since the start of their third year, which just so happened to have started only a month prior to that very interaction. He seriously should’ve — should’ve, but hadn’t — asked to switch seats. 

If there was any reasoning behind this odd choice, he’d deny it.

“Just—” he sighed, running a hand over his face to somewhat calm himself down, “could you try to actually pay attention to what’s being said in class? For once?” He asked, though it was more of a rhetorical question. No, she couldn’t — or, rather, she wouldn’t, because ‘they explain stuff in such a complicated way. I’m better off just learning the material on my own, if I’m gonna do it anyway,’ was her reasoning. He knew, because he’d asked her on at least three separate occasions, before giving up. 

“Nah,” was the only short, oh so witty reply he got in turn. 

He furrowed his brows, wanting so desperately to make some sort of retort, get her to stop distracting him, or something, but was interrupted before he could even speak. “If your little conversation is more important than my class, I’d rather have you leave, Mr. Yin and Ms. Fang. Or, are you going to quiet down?”

Nezha always respected authority enough to take that raised brow and those crossed arms as enough of a sign to start behaving. He straightened up awkwardly in his chair. “I apologize, miss,” he murmured, returning his attention to his notebook dutifully, where it should be, before looking back up at the board, and not at the girl next to him, to see what he missed.

The teacher only sighed, shook her head in disapproval, then moved on with the lecture. He took that as a warning. Another one, that was, because it wasn’t his first. Not when he constantly bickered with her in class, seeing as everything she did was so utterly and unbelievably stupid and annoying.

Nezha’s relationship with Rin was a rather delicate topic, one could say — they started off as rivals, in their first year. He’d admit, now, that he used to be a prissy, annoying teenage boy who just graduated from middle school and felt like the world owed him something, so he'd acted like a bit of an entitled brat.

…Well, maybe not a bit, but it was something like that.

Sinegard was a precious academy, the type only rich kids with parents willing to pay as much money as they needed to got into. Rarely anyone tried hard enough to earn a scholarship and attend for free, so to say it was a surprise that a girl from Tikany, who’s now nothing short of the class punk, managed to get accepted, was an understatement.

He might’ve been a prick to her in year one, but he got humbled pretty quickly once she managed to score second highest score (because the first is always practically reserved for Kitay, and everyone knows it by now) during the finals, leaving him to bite the dust and take the metaphorical bronze medal. 

If he’d hated her before, at that moment, he’d despised her. 

Though, everything did somewhat cool off when she started skipping more often in their second year, and he saw her less and less, yet she still managed to get everything done in time for exams. A neat part of the academy, he supposed, was that attendance wasn’t fully mandatory, especially after their first year, when they got assigned their head teachers, who they’d have extra classes with. 

Nezha was never sure why Rin chose Jiang to go with, of all people, but by then, he’d learned to stop questioning everything she says and does. 

It didn’t even matter — he should’ve been happy that they were avoiding each other, and he was…

But, for one reason or another, his heart didn’t like it all that much when she wasn’t around for a while. Perhaps that may have been the reason for why he didn’t ask to sit somewhere else. 

The rest of the lecture seemed to have moved by in a blur, because, the next thing he knew was that the bell was ringing. And, as always, Rin was the first one to pack and stand up. She didn’t bolt out the door, though. She didn’t immediately leave. Why wasn’t she leaving?

Turning up to meet her gaze as she glared down at him, he raised an eyebrow. 

She scoffed in response, though it didn’t sound like one of her usual bitchy huffs, only akin to something snarky and smug — and, although that wasn’t the most ideal, he thought he still preferred it that way. “You should really loosen up a bit, blue boy,” she’d started calling him that after pointing out on multiple occasions how he never seemed to wear anything other than blue, “live a little.” Those last words were accompanied by a rather firm few pats on the shoulder.

After that, after that, she up and left. After telling him the most confusing thing he’d heard from her this year, and after touching him without the intent of harming him for the first time in… ever, she just left. 

If he wasn’t so preoccupied with being pissed at the fact she thought he could “let loose” when he had so many responsibilities, so many things to do, he might’ve let himself ponder on how her hand rested on his shoulder and how warm her palm was, despite how short said warmth lasted. 

How could he ever manage to simply rest, though? He had more important things to do, unlike her. He had to actually come to class, he had to go to band practice afterwards, and when he’d finally go home, he would have piano lessons, he’d take care of his little brother, then study, then study some more-

He couldn’t even begin to list all of his responsibilities, just like he couldn’t afford to miss any of them.

And he wouldn’t let the opinion of some stupid girl that beat him once get to his head.

 It was lunchtime. Once again, as always, he was seated neatly on the cafeteria benches next to Venka, munching on whatever shit they served the kids today — he couldn’t focus enough to bother looking at what it was, this time. 

Briefly, his taste buds managed to tell him that it was some kind of sandwich. That was good. At least he’d have something somewhat nutritional in his stomach by the end of the day. 

“Tiger’s tits, what shat in your breakfast this morning?” Was the first sentence he was greeted with upon Venka’s arrival. She shuffled close to him, placing her own tray next to his, even though she didn’t bother with actually picking any of the sludge up to eat it. 

“Well, hello to you too, Ven,” he grumbled, shooting her an irritated glance before taking another bite of his sandwich. 

“Hi, hello, yes, I’ve already greeted you,” she said quickly, “but seriously — how long has it been since you’ve had a wink of your precious beauty sleep?”

He’d curse her for being so observant was she not his best friend. “I was just studying, it’s fine,” he mumbled, looking off to nowhere in particular, just so he wouldn’t meet her gaze.

She narrowed her eyes at him, and, for a second, he thought she’d tell him he was lying. Which wasn’t true.

… 

It was half true.

He did get very little sleep throughout that whole week, due to the tests that every teacher had been bombarding them with. Yet, what — or rather who — was also pissing him off and making him unnecessarily tired was Rin.

They were unlucky enough to share most of their schedule together this time around, unlike last year. The only classes they didn’t have at the same time were the ones with their respective head teachers, but even subtracting those, they spent a lot of time together. Against their will. 

Not to mention the fact they were seated together. 

For one stupid reason or another, he couldn’t focus whenever she was next to him. She kept distracting him, whether it was by not paying attention and fidgeting with some random trinket she probably found on the side of the road on her way to school, or by whispering him random, stupid jokes — he couldn’t get himself to pay full attention to the lectures. He let her get too close to him after that stupid apology of his.

This resulted in more studying required to reach the same results. 

And that required more time, which, in turn, made him sacrifice his sleep instead.

So, yes, Venka was right. No, he wasn’t getting enough sleep. No, it wasn’t his fault. It was clearly Rin’s.

The girl next to him must’ve noticed how he spaced off, and resorted to letting out an exasperated groan. Nezha knew she wasn’t really angry with him; she just liked pissing him off. Really, Venka could never be angry at him, or at least, not for long. 

So, when she realized he wouldn’t speak first, she did so instead: “What’s troubling you now, oh great and almighty Yin Nezha?” He could almost hear the eyeroll in her tone of voice. “Is burn-out finally catching up? Or is daddy Vaisra being a bitch again?” She listed the reasons out so theatrically, Nezha might’ve thought she was preparing for her next play. Still, he couldn’t help but want to not even hear the options she had in mind — each and every one of them was embarrassing. 

“Or — wait,” she paused, feigning a rather exaggerated gasp, “Is Nezha here having girl trouble?”

It was an utterly random guess, but his face reddened, then her grin widened, and then he knew he’d gotten himself in deep shit. 

“No, I am very much not,” he tried to insist, turning his face away from her to hide whatever dignity he hoped he had left.

“Oh my gods, you have a crush, don’t you?” Venka was practically beaming, and for a second, he felt happy that she found joy in his suffering, because it amused her, at least. “Wait, wait, let me guess. Is it Niang? No, you don’t know her well enough — mm… Of all the other girls that go to your classes,” she hummed thoughtfully. It always amazed him how quickly she skimmed over options, topics, as if knowing exactly what’s right and what’s wrong at the wrong or right time. 

He couldn’t bear to speak, in fear of “incriminating” himself more. He did not have a crush, he knew that, but his throat still felt stuffy, as if he were holding back sobs. It was weird, though, because he didn’t feel like crying at all.

Venka’s eyes widened in an expression only able to be described as realization, and her next words were somewhat hushed, as if she was afraid anyone else would hear. “Nezha.” She said, and in that moment she sounded as if she was scolding a little kid, “Don’t tell me. Do you like Rin?”

“As I’ve already explicitly stated, I do not have a crush, especially not on Rin!”

“C’mon, you ass, you’ve been complaining about her too much lately.”

“And that’s not something you do when you dislike someone, or did I miss some important social cue when I was a kid?” He could’ve denied it all he wanted to, but his sarcasm couldn’t help the flush of his face one bit. 

“Yeah, well, normal people don’t think about their “enemy” every two seconds. Or, they're not supposed to,” she said.

Nezha could only blink. As much as he hated admitting that Venka was right, she did have a point. 

But, no — he didn’t have a stupid crush on Rin, that was absurd. He was blushing because he was embarrassed, and that was it.

Yet, as they kept bickering over his clearly nonexistent crush, time passed quickly enough, and the bell rang. Their lunches were long left alone and cold in favor of focusing on conversation, and quite honestly? Neither of them could care less about eating more of whatever slop was being served there anyway.

Friday.

It was Friday. One more day, and he could earn at least a few hours of rest back at home.

His little conversation with Venka ended before they could finish it, really — but they both made a silent agreement not to tell a single soul. It was how things between them worked, and Nezha wouldn’t have had it any other way. 

He was the first to arrive to class and unpack silently, preparing for the day, before everyone else started slowly shuffling in, their exhaustion from the rest of the week evident. He couldn’t care less about it, really, though, because it seemed like he was zoned out again.

He only snapped back to reality when he heard the familiar sound of a lighter being flicked on and off beside him. He narrowed his eyes, sighing, before looking at Rin, giving her the same ‘are you kidding me?’ look from yesterday.

“Do you live a single second of your life and not think about pyromania or arson?” He asked, and the question was half serious, but Rin laughed it off, putting the little thing back into her bag.

“Oh, fuck off,” She huffed, though, her expression was nothing but amused. “You’re no fun, mr. president, y’know?”

Who was and wasn’t the class president barely even mattered, at this point, it was more so a reward — a title — given to the ones who behaved the best. Still, she was so dedicated to bringing that up every time he told her not to do something dangerous. It bordered on endearing, by now. 

He let his gaze rake over her, down her uniform, just for a few purely self-indulgent moments, before drifting back into focus. Her tie was loose. Rin rarely wore the uniforms, he knew, but when she did, somehow, she always wore them wrong, in one way or another. 

He thought he had said the words out loud (even though he, in fact, did not), so he found it odd when he didn’t get a response. Furrowing his brows, he reached over to fix her tie properly himself, gliding his fingers gently across the cloth and maneuvering it around until it was decent enough to look proper.

Only when he pulled back did he realize that her gaze lingered on his. “What are you staring at?” He asked, and, really, he meant for it to come out harsher, but his voice hadn’t obeyed his commands at all. Why was he suddenly being so utterly pathetic?

She shrugged, leaning away from him and back into her chair, before simply brushing off her tie where he’d touched it. “Nothing. I just could’ve fixed it on my own,” she murmured, and, for once, she wasn’t glaring daggers into him. And he felt so relieved, almost, that he just nearly smiled. A quick quirk of his lips upwards as he whipped his head over to the board, pretending he was looking at whatever remained on the board from the previous lecture — he was looking at anything, anything but her. 

She didn’t speak, afterwards, and he appreciated the silence. If she teased him about it, or brought it up, he wasn’t all that sure that he wouldn’t explode from embarrassment. 

He’d fixed her tie.

He’d done it completely unpromptedly, and probably made a fool of himself by “fixing” something that was, knowing her, completely intentional. 

For the rest of the hour, up until the bell rang, Rin remained uncharacteristically quiet and well-behaved, and didn’t once get reprimanded. Thinking back on it, he should’ve put more thought into why that was.

Chapter Text

When Nezha came home that day, he all but practically collapsed on his bed the second he got the chance to.

Exhaustion was catching up to him. Sinegard was, by no means, an easy school to attend, so he had a lot of studies to finish every day. That, and all the preparations his father made him do for collage (even though it was still two years away), along with every extracurricular he had, piled up neatly into a perfectly organized schedule that left him no time to even breathe properly.

Even on weekends, he could barely have any free time.

Friday was, by far, the worst day of the week for him, in terms of classes. He finished school late in the afternoon, and immediately after arriving home, had to practice piano for an hour. It was stupid, but it also would've been stupid of him to disobey his father, so he just shut up and complied.

He'd finally finished everything. He'd earned the few hours of relaxation he could allow himself before going back to work. He could rest, catch up on some sleep. And, he did. 

Well, he tried to. It didn't matter that he'd barely gotten a single glimpse of a dream that whole week, nor did it matter that his limbs felt like the muscles sticking to his bones were replaced by heavy sand weights, he couldn't seem to drift off. Why? Well, as always, it seemed, the reason herself was none other than Rin. 

He just didn't get it. All he did was fix her tie, it's not like he'd kissed her — and, anyway, why was he thinking about the prospect of kissing her in the first place? It was so utterly frustrating that he couldn't get her out of his mind. Not her, not his conversation with Venka, not her face, not her voice, not the way her beautiful bronze skin seemed to glow when the shine of fire reflected off it and — Great Tortoise, what was wrong with him?

He shook his head, rolling around in his bed restlessly as he kept insistently squeezing his eyes shut, as if that would get that stupid girl out of his head and let him sleep, or as if it'd allow him a moment of respite, even though those hopes were just foolish.

He was about to bury his head in a pillow and test to see if screaming would tire him out enough to let his mind rest, before he heard a knock at the door, and perked up, immediately sitting up straighter in his bed. To his great relief, he recognized the soft taps on the hardwood of his door to be his younger bother's — so unlike a harsh bang at the door, the way Jinzha always knocked, or the firm, quick and curt knocks his father gave merely out of habit, not actually announcing his presence, because he'd open the door before Nezha could even think to answer, anyway. It didn't matter much. Nezha had long since memorized the patterns of each of his family members' footsteps; he knew who was at the door before they even came up to it.

It seemed, though, that he was far too distracted to hear Mingzha. Yet another reason he mentally added to an imaginary list of those he should hate Rin for.

"You can come in," he remembered to reply, running a hand through his (now untied) dark locks in the process.

The door creaked open slowly, and he saw the small figure of Mingzha creep into his room, looking vaguely hopeful, if Nezha could make a guess. He seemed to be holding something behind his back. "Big brother? Could you, um, play with me?" 

The tone he spoke in sounded so timid, as if he was scared of merely asking; then again, Nezha knew firsthand how harsh his older siblings were when it came to disturbing them, so he couldn't blame him for being careful and on guard. 

He considered it for a moment — he could tell him to leave, so that he could get some rest, but... He always loved his brother too much for his own good. Ever since the incident, whenever possible, they were attached at the hip. 

So, with a resigned sigh, Nezha sat up, patting the bed next to him so the little boy could take a seat there. He figured he wasn't going to get any sleep, anyway. "What are we playing?"

The look on the boy's face could be described as one of pure, unadulterated joy, and he hurriedly scurried over to climb onto the bed. The chess board Nezha had neglected to see earlier was quickly placed between them, and Mingzha looked up at him expectantly, waiting for that little nod of approval he always got before arranging the pieces together. "My tutors tell me that I'm getting better, so I wanted to play a match against you for practice," he beamed, and, Nezha couldn't help but notice that he was extremely well-spoken for a thirteen-year-old, as he always did. Though, he supposed it was the result of very constant and tedious etiquette classes, the same as he went through.

It didn't take long before all the pieces were set on the board, and the game started. The two usually preferred to stay silent while playing — there was a certain art to concentrating on all the various tactics and focusing on the best moves in silence, so that there were no distractions — but Nezha opted to make at least some sort of conversation this time around, lest he wanted to doze off in the middle of the match.

"How was school today?" Such a basic fucking question, couldn't you have asked literally anything better? He internally scolded himself. Oftentimes, he needed a constant reminder that he needn't be so formal around his younger brother, but it was somewhat difficult to remember, when all his life, all he was ever told was to be the best version of himself around everyone, even his own blood. 

Mingzha hummed, taking a moment to consider and play his next move before he actually answered. "It was alright. Everything was as usual — oh, I did get last week's test results, though!"

"Is that so?" 

"Mhm! I got a perfect score, I hope that father will be impressed."

Nezha internally suppressed a wince at that. It was a very unlikely thing to happen, but, he couldn't blame his brother for hoping, just because he, himself, stopped years ago, so, he merely smiled and ruffled his hair as a sort of "congratulations", and moved another piece on the chess board.

Unsurprisingly, all of the matches they played that day lasted quite a while; every member of the Yin family often played strategical games such as these, in their free time, because it was supposedly "a more important thing to spend time on", when compared to playing video games or even reading anything that wasn't considered educational, by their father's standards. 

Eventually, the sun dipped down from the sky, and the starry night rose. Nezha only noticed because, the next time Mingzha asked to play another round, he could barely get his words past his tongue before a rather loud yawn followed. 

Nezha went to tuck his brother in, after a little while of convincing him that he won enough times and didn't need to "prove" himself. It never mattered how old he got, apparently, but Mingzha always felt more secure when his big brother gave him a hug before bed. In his words, it made the nightmares stay far away.

The weekend passed by in a rather quick blur.

Looking back on it, Nezha should've been grateful that the days seemed to fly past him, because it meant that he had spent less of his time actually conscious, in his body, and more time daydreaming about whatever the fuck his brain decided to conjure up for him at a specific moment.

He only wished that he could tune out now, focus on something in his head, instead of having to pay attention to class.

He was tired, and, quite frankly, way too hot. The weather was far too warm for that time of the year, and he almost regretted his choice of wearing the long-sleeved uniform to school. However, the temperature was a less pressing matter; quite frankly, so was the lesson.

What his thoughts were lingering on was why Rin seemed to have missed school.

He was used to her skipping the classes she didn't like, or simply didn't have time to attend to because of the workload her head teacher gave her, but she'd been absent for the whole day. That was something he wasn't used to.

It felt... Odd, and unfamiliar, without her loud and annoying presence next to him. It almost felt lonely. Almost. He couldn't quite allow himself to worry, however — he had more important things to do. Like, for example, he had to concentrate on taking notes during math class.

...Without her bothering him and asking him to lend her whatever he wrote because she couldn't see the board well enough.

He almost ripped his hair out in frustration because of her. How was it that, when she wasn't even there, in the same room as him, she could make his head spin as if he were about to faint? He didn't get it. He hated it. He hated her.

But, the more he told himself that, the more he became aware of how much of a blatant lie it was. 

His thoughts swam the whole day, and she was the ocean he was drowning in. He hated the water, he despised it — yet, her voice, her laugh, her everything, were the things he would gladly welcome into his lungs, the things he'd let replace all the air he breathed, even if it killed him. Though, her voice wasn't like water, and while he'd gladly choke on it, it was more akin to smoke. She was far from the scary depths of the sea, or the eerie calm of a lake; she was a fierce inferno that crackled and shined so bright one would be a fool to miss it. She was fire, and goddamn it, she was burning all his rational thought down, and he couldn't put the flames out.

He had half a mind to actually go search the school in hopes of finding her somewhere. He really was going crazy, wasn't he?

He almost did go and do that. It would've been a massive mistake if he did, though, because, Rin thankfully came to the last class they shared together. If he was an impulsive person, he might have ran up to her and asked her where the hell she'd been all day, or maybe he would've even hugged her. He was not an impulsive person, however. Instead, he patiently but painstakingly stayed seated at their desk, waiting for her to actually sit down as well. 

For once, he initiated conversation first. "So, where were you the whole day?" He asked, and cursed himself silently immediately after. 

"It isn't really any of your fucking business."

"No harm in asking, though, am I right?"

"You're infuriating."

"So I've been told," Nezha mused, turning to actually look her in the eyes. She looked more exhausted than usual, and fuck it, he felt bad, for some reason.

She nudged her fist into his shoulder, and, while it was definitely a punch, he knew she wasn't aiming to harm him. Had she been doing so, he would've probably ended up in the hospital with a dislocated shoulder. "I've been playing chess with Jiang all day. He said I wouldn't get an A until i beat him," she muttered, clearly still pissed off — that fact was evident in how she practically threw her bag down on the floor, as if it were a football. 

Nezha's eyebrows raised in an almost curious sort of surprise at that, and he tried to ignore the spark of hope at playing with her sometime. "Really."

"Really."

"Huh."

"What?" She snapped at him, like she did almost every time he did something annoying. It was a kind of behaviour she had more commonly during their first year, but it still seemed to resurface every once in a while.

"Nothing," he said, raising his hands up in mock defence, "you just didn't strike me as the type. To, y'know, play chess."

"Not everyone has to be a pretentious, self-righteous prick to play a damn game," she said, leaning back in her chair lazily. 

He couldn't help but smile, even as she insulted him. "Sorry for assuming," he mumbled, though the apology was clearly half-assed. 

Rin merely rolled her eyes, choosing to ignore him and fiddle with whatever pen was in her reach. Nezha took that as a sign to stop talking and wait for the teacher to arrive.

He worked up some courage to actually follow her out of class that day, since band practice turned out to be cancelled, and walk with her to the entrance, where he'd be picked up soon enough. She raised an eyebrow at the gesture, but didn't question it otherwise. 

They mostly made small talk the whole time — that was, until Rin rather bluntly declared the oh so dreaded question of "Why are you even here with me, right now?"

He had to swallow down the lump in his throat before he spoke, because if he hadn't, he felt like the words pouring out of his mouth would've been far different from what he actually wanted to say. "You said you were good at chess."

"Yeah? What about it?"

"Play with me sometime."

Rin's surprise was evident on her face, and, for a moment, he wanted to bury himself in his own grave and wait until all the oxygen ran out and he suffocated to death, with how embarrassed he was. 

That thought quickly dissipated, however, the moment he saw that signature, competitive smirk of hers make its way onto her beautiful lips.

"Fine. Tomorrow, an hour before school. I'm gonna beat your ass so bad," she mused.

He feigned a sort of mock offence. "No, you won't," he retorted, just as smugly.

"Oh, you are so on."

Chapter Text

That Tuesday, Nezha had woken up at five o'clock in the morning, before the sun had even risen, just to get ready. 

Usually, the boy valued his sleep quite a lot, because it was something he didn't get often, but he valued the even rarer occasions he spent time with Rin on even more. It was something that he was starting to admit to himself — he wasn't delusional enough to deny that he was growing a little fond of her.

Nevertheless, he spent around ten minutes simply pacing the room to mentally prepare himself, before actually taking the time to get ready. He stopped himself from leaving his room, though, when he thought about what they'd be doing a bit more intently. Chess. Would she bring a board? Did she even have one of her own? Well, she had mentioned playing with Jiang, but they could've just been using the one from the teacher's cabinet. Should he bring his own?

Deciding not to risk it, he rummaged through his stuff and quickly stuffed a set into his backpack before bolting out the door after realizing that half an hour had already passed since he'd woken up.

Nezha was a bit surprised that he didn't see his parents on the way out, as they usually woke up earlier than everyone else, but he didn't complain, because their absence meant that no one was there to question him leaving the house so early. He didn't usually go to school by foot, but his chauffeur would only drive his siblings later in the morning, so he bit the bullet and started walking.

He arrived at the gates a few minutes earlier than they'd agreed to meet up, but to his surprise, Rin was already there, scrolling through her phone while sitting on the sidewalk, waiting. She wasn't in her uniform that day, it looked like.

Nezha had always been amazed by the way Rin dressed — her shirts were often ripped up (apparently on purpose), she wore so much leather it almost hurt to look at, she had pins and badges all over her book bag and patches sewn into practically every item of clothing she owned, not to mention the fact that every outfit of hers seemed to incorporate some kind of spikes, in one way or another. She wore shoes or boots with soles so thick they made her look a good few inches taller than she really was, her makeup was always dark and gloomy, and she'd dyed the tips of her hair red a while back. Nezha had to admit that the color suited her.

She was bold. Bolder than he could ever be.

He didn't mean that regarding her style at all, nor did he intend it to be an insult. She was simply a raging ball of fire that always seemed to get her way. She was confrontational, she wasn't afraid to talk back and she didn't submit to authority unless she had good reason to. She was free. She was everything that Nezha was not.

He supposed that those things were what drew him to her. Though, he didn't dwell on the thoughts much longer, as he noticed that he had been staring at her, wide-eyed like a deer in headlights, most likely.

He cleared his throat, hoping to make his presence known without having to be the one that started the conversation, because he had no idea what to say to her, yet.

"Oh. You're early," she hummed in that simple, uncaring tone of hers that always made him angry at her for not caring that he was the one in her presence, in the past.

"Mhm," he nodded awkwardly. He almost slapped himself right on the spot — why was he being so awkward? 

Before he could bring himself to ask if she'd brought a chess set herself, she stood up, brushed herself off, and gestured for him to follow her, which he did blindly without much hesitation. Looking back on it, he thought that he'd probably looked like a lost puppy at that moment.

Rin somehow had the keys to the gates of the school courtyard, which Nezha decided he wasn't going to question, so she led them in, finding a secluded corner to sit down in. She took out a set from her bag — it was plastic, much more low-quality than his. He didn't bother offering to use his own instead, though, as she had already started setting the pieces up by the time he thought to suggest it.

"Sit down," she told him.

"On the ground? It's dirty," he complained, raising an eyebrow at her. She stared right back with that 'seriously?' look of hers, and he couldn't help but falter a little because of her eyes alone. They were a gorgeous, rich, dark brown, but they almost seemed to gleam red when the sun hit them at just the right angle. They were beautiful.

"Yes, on the ground. Should I bring in a leather sofa just for you to sit in? Please."

He rolled his eyes but obliged, sitting down across from her on the pavement. It was cold and probably extremely dirty, but he tried not to care and focus on the fact he'd be playing chess against Rin. The thought alone was maddeningly unusual.

She played first, because of course, she gave herself the white pieces, and the match started off pretty smoothly. It was silent except for the slightest bit of noise that came from leaves being blown away by the wind. Fall was already in season, despite the annoyingly hot weather, so the greenery was gaining that beautiful bronze hue it always had at that time of the year.

It was so peaceful, and Nezha couldn't help himself, opting to briefly glance up at the girl in front of him every few moments or so, especially when it was her turn. He loved to watch the way her brow ever so slightly furrowed in concentration before she moved a piece on the board, and then he'd have to tear his eyes away from her just so she wouldn't catch him staring. Oh, and also so he could plan his next move, even though it hardly mattered anymore, with how distracted he was.

Nezha somewhat jolted when that calm quiet was broken. "You're bad at this," Rin huffed out, tough there was an amused lilt to her voice.

"Wha- I'm literally winning," he sputtered, furrowing his brows in annoyance.

"No," she said calmly, simply, as if she were correcting a child's grammar mistake, "because I can checkmate you in two moves. Don't you see it?"

For once, Nezha actually focused on the board, looking over the pieces more intently to spot where he went south. 

...He was pissed about it, but she wasn't wrong.

It didn't really matter what he played next, all she had to do was get her bishop out of the way before moving her queen from G4 to G7, and then his king would have nowhere to go. Nezha bit his lip. Nothing was on the line, in case he lost, but he still couldn't believe he allowed himself to be so preoccupied with the serenity of the moment that he forgot the whole reason he was there with her was to beat her in chess. He held himself back from cursing.

Obviously seeing his turmoil, Rin, ever the cocky bastard, to his surprise, held out her hand for him to shake. "Give up yet, blue boy?"

He hated that nickname to the end of the Earth and back, but he reluctantly shook her hand to signal defeat. It was warm. Rin was a very warm person. Why was he thinking about how warm she was?

Before he could get another word in, she started resetting the board for them to play again and mercifully didn't tease him too much about his loss. This time, he played first.

He only spoke again after a few minutes of silence where he actually focused on strategizing.

"Why'd you accept?"

"Hm?"

"I mean, why did you agree to play with me?" He elaborated, clearing his throat awkwardly.

"Well, I need practice with someone other than Jiang, don't you think?" She said. Nezha had always found it odd how she adressed her head teacher so informally. Of course that's the reason, he thought next, his eyes trailing her hand as she slid her queen across the board. For a moment, he wasn't sure why he expected her to say something else. Something that would make his heart flutter. Or whatever.

"I see." He mumbled, sliding his rook over the as he racked his mind for other things to say. He needed to keep the conversation going. He needed to hear her talk more. "I've always wondered why you dress like that, by the way."

He hoped the question didn't sound insensitive or rude, and, judging by the roll of her eyes, he was in the clear, for now. "It's called being punk, idiot."

He huffed at the insult, but didn't address it directly, knowing she'd just throw even more names at him if he did. "Don't you have to listen to the music in order to dress that way, or something?"

"I do listen to the music. What, you calling me a poser?"

"I wouldn't dare," he said, and his voice was smug, like it was when he said or did something and knew he could get away with it because he was, well, himself. He knew it annoyed her to no end. He loved it.

"Obviously."

"Well, what do you listen to?"

"Why? You wanna make fun of me?" She huffed out, but the amused smirk on her face reassured him that she was, in fact, simply trying to tease him till his eyes would pop out of his sockets. In a way, she was succeeding, because he hated how she kept replying to him with more questions rather than giving him answers.

He wasn't like that though, not anymore. Both of them knew it. "Perhaps I just want to see if your taste is good."

"Wow. You actually listen to music? Unbelievable." Her tone was so sarcastic and dry it could've been used as a sponge to soak up a an entire lake.

"Excuse you, I have a life outside of the academy."

"Sure you do."

He rolled his eyes, but he turned his attention back to the match when her knight took one of his bishops. He retorted by taking said knight with a pawn — he was in the lead this time around, so that was good. He had no idea why he was even interested in what Rin listened to. It was an idiotic curiosity.

"...The Clash and Misfits, by the way."

"What?"

"You asked what I listen to. Those are my favorite bands."

Nezha was a bit stunned — his hand halted mid air on its way to pick up a piece, and he looked up at her. She was staring back. He whipped his gaze away from her, and couldn't help the light blush that crept up to his cheeks. Why was he reacting like that? She didn't even do anything other than tell him about herself, but the way she did it was so utterly like her that it made him go half crazy. 

"Oh," was all he could think to reply with. 

He opted to stay a silent after that, and by the sound of it, she did too. 

They played a few more matches after he'd won that one, throwing around names and mocking each other every once in a while, but before Nezha knew it, the hour of free time they had was up and he heard the bell ring.

Rin sighed, as if she were personally insulted by the sound of students slowly shuffling into the yard so they could make their way to their classes. She put away the chess pieces, put the board back into her bag, and then stood up, offering Nezha a hand. He was surprised by the gesture, but he took it, feeling a flicker of disappointment when he had to let go, because he knew they'd likely have to wait some time before seeing each other again.

So, he sucked it up and bid her goodbye before hurrying his step so he could make it to Gym. Mr. Jun would kill him if he was late — while most would say that as an exaggeration, Nezha genuinely wouldn't put it past him.

Sinegard was a difficult academy, that much was obvious to anyone who managed to take even a single glance at how it looked. Even if it was a school with beautiful architecture, the curriculum was far from pretty.

Originally, in the far, far past, it was a military academy. Those old ways were abolished when the world managed to reach a relatively peaceful state, and it became a prestigious high school that mainly functioned as extended tutoring for high society. The classes were all taught in a way that would prepare the students for the use of proper etiquette, behavior, and even way of speech around other rich snobs — at least, that's what Rin called them — when they grew up.

And honestly? Nezha hated it.

He'd practically begged his father to follow in Jinzha's footsteps and attend, because he had been sick of being homeschooled. He wasn't fully sure what was worse now, though.

Because it was all about tradition, they'd kept all of the previous subjects (albeit with some modifications), and simply added on new ones to help balance everything out. 

"Combat" was really just glorified PE — though, the drills they had to do practically every time they had it were downright evil. He knew kids that used to pass out during them in year one because of their intensity. Though, the class somewhat still lived up to its name, because they were taught how to fight. Mr. Jun made sure of it.

"Linguistics" was one of the only subjects that went unmodified. Really, it was just simple language study. Nezha didn't mind it too much, though it was mostly because Ms. Jima was an exceptionally good teacher.

"Strategy" used to have been related to war strategy. Personally, he thought he'd like it better if it stayed that way, because business strategy was so much more boring, despite how useful it was. Mr. Irjah was the only reason the class was remotely bearable.

"Medicine" was taught by Ms. Enro, and similarly to Combat, it was just good old Science, but under a different name. The students had still been taught the basics of first aid and healing, but that part was a class everyone except future doctors stopped taking after their first year. Niang had told him a bit about how everything was like there, and from the sound of it, Enro was much stricter when she was blabbering on about the names of every muscle and bone in the human body than she was while teaching chem.

"Weaponry" was also similar to what a normal teenager would call PE, except it focused more on everyone developing a skill with a weapon of their choice. Nezha had stopped taking it in his second year, because everyone knew that the only reason it was still in the curriculum was because of tradition, so it wasn't mandatory. Venka kept going, though, and he wasn't quite sure why anyone would willingly subject themselves to an hour of that with Mr. Sonnen three times a week.

"Lore" was — well, its pure existence was the confusing thing about it, because no one was sure what exactly the subject was. Mr. Jiang never bothered to show up, but the rest of the staff merely brushed it off and told the students they could use it as a free period. Nezha didn't mind that part. Really, it seemed that the only person who knew what it was about was Rin, even if he doubted her own understanding of it at times.

"History" was pretty straightforward. The name spoke for itself. 

Coincidentally, the whole reason Nezha had been recounting the pointless origins of seemingly every little thing in the entire academy was because Mr. Yim was supposed to quiz them on Sinegard's whole history, that day. He had been wasting his whole lunch period on revision, even though he already knew. Venka was absent. He had nothing else to do, so he stuck to the same thing he always busied himself with.

"Hey."

Nezha practically jolted in his seat at the sound of Rin's voice behind him. "Rin? What are you doing here?"

She scoffed as if he'd just asked her what his own name was. "Having lunch? Obviously?" She said, sliding her lunch tray onto the table and taking a seat next to him.

"No, I mean, you're usually hanging around Kitay," he mumbled out, trying to distract himself from how close she was. 

"Yeah, but he stayed home today to finish some project of his. I didn't bother paying attention to his explanation," she shrugged, picking up her sandwich and shoving it in her mouth as if she'd seen food for the first time after being starved for weeks.

"Right," he said, glancing away from her to idly turn a page in his notebook and pretend to read over his notes. He wasn't quite sure if he was pretending for her or himself.

She finished her food pretty quickly — which Nezha was sort of baffled by because he couldn't even fathom stomaching the things they served for lunch — and then finally decided to look at what he was doing. "You're seriously revising for that? It's like, drilled into our heads every month. You ought to know it by heart."

He sighed, closing his notebook and running a hand over his face in frustration. "No, I do know. I just have nothing better to do to pass the time."

If he'd been any more foolish, he would've thought that Rin chuckled at him. "Seriously? Nothing at all? You're so boring," she mused.

"Well, what do you suggest I do, hm?"

She thought for a moment, before shrugging and reaching up to take the headphones off from around her neck. "You mentioned you wanted to try listening to my music. Here," she said, putting them on his head. He blinked. They cancelled noise pretty well, he managed to notice.

He didn't quite hear what she said to him after that, but he noticed her scrolling through her phone, and soon enough, a song started playing.

It was better than Nezha thought it would be.

He didn't catch the name, but when she took the headphones off he practically beamed at her. "That- that was pretty good," he said, trying to keep his cool. 

...He'd lied, earlier. In truth, the only melody he ever heard flow through his ears was the repeated sound of the piano, whenever either he or one of his brothers played. And, while that was nice, having actual beat, other instruments and lyrics included made everything sound even better.

"It is, isn't it?" She smirked. It was annoyingly unfair, how smug and pretty she looked while doing that. "i'm actually surprised that you like it, of all people. Punk is like, rebellious-"

"I know what punk means."

"Okay, fine, whatever. I was just trying to say that you didn't strike me as the type to enjoy something that's all about y'know, going against rules and standards."

"I guess," he shrugged. "But, I don't know. I love your style — it's weird, but in a good way, so I already kinda like it. It suits you, so I thought..." He trailed off, looking off to the side when he realized he'd been openly complimenting her. From what he saw, though, her grin only widened.

"Is that your way of flirting with me?"

He could've sworn that he was going to die on the spot.

Had this scenario happened even a week earlier, Nezha was sure he would've just blushed and denied it. He'd been acting off that whole week, though, because of her, so he did something that would've earned him a beating from his 16-year-old self. And likely his father, too, had he been around to hear him.

"Maybe. I have no idea what I'm doing," he mumbled, taking a bite from the apple he'd grabbed from the cafeteria just to busy himself with something. He originally hadn't even planned to eat it.

"Huh. You surprise me more and more every day. Did your balls finally drop over summer break, or did you decide to actually stop being a brat like you promised?" Rin teased.

"Hey! I'm trying to be nice, here!"

"Ah, don't worry. You're way less pretentious than you used to be," she said, exaggerating the words in a way that left him unsure of if she was being sarcastic or not.

He could only sigh in return, because before he could think of anything smart to retort with, the bell rang, signalling the end of lunch. Just my luck, he sulked to himself.

"Wait. Before you go," Rin said, rather rudely stealing the pen he was using to underline his notes. Well, she didn't steal it, rather just took it, but still. "Give me your hand."

He held himself back from showing that demand (because she made it clear it wasn't a request) made him flustered. He was glad that he gave her his right hand, because she pulled his sleeve up to write something on his arm. "What are you doing?" He asked, raising an eyebrow in curiosity.

"Writing down my number."

"...And why, might I inquire?"

"So you can text me, dumbass," she huffed, finishing the writing with a click of the pen before giving it back to him.

He glanced at the numbers briefly, before pulling down his sleeve and looking at her again. "Why would I need to text you?" He asked, oblivious.

She merely rolled her eyes as she stood up, not bothering to bring her lunch tray with her. "You ask the dumbest questions, Nezha."

He blinked, sort of idiotically gaping at her as she left, most likely heading for Weaponry class. His thoughts didn't linger on why he knew her schedule so well.

The rest of the day went by pretty smoothly, and before he knew it, he was back home. He made sure to leave the paper bearing the mark of his perfect score on the hallway table, even though he knew the most acknowledgment he'd get from his father would be a simple glance at it and a nod.

Nezha didn't bother with going back to his room just yet. He was exhausted and hungry, and Mingzha hadn't been with him when their driver was picking him up, for some reason, so he had some alone time. Even more importantly, he missed Venka.

He trudged down the long hallways of his house, setting his backpack down when he got to the kitchen and rummaging through his cabinets to find a clean pot. He was known for his bad cooking, yes — his most famous mistake being the fact he forgot to add anything to the tangyuan he was making on new years, leaving it bland — but he knew how to make some food to survive.

...'Some' food being packaged noodles, but regardless.

He took his phone out after filling the pot with water, intent on calling his meimei to get some very much needed socialization with someone his age that wasn't the girl he was crushing on. 

It was odd, but his house was quieter than usual. Not the eerie, anxious quiet that engulfed the space whenever his parents were home, but rather the kind that made him believe he could have some peace. Knowing that, Nezha had no problem putting the call on speakerphone in order to focus on cooking.

When Venka answered, she did so with her usual "Hey," clearly too unbothered to greet him with anything else. 

"Why weren't you in school today?" He asked right away. His tone was far from accusatory, but he was still curious enough to skip their usual banter.

"I had a fever," she sighed as if giving him a reason inconvenienced her on a personal level, when Nezha knew she was playing it up for the dramatics. Venka had always been an utterly amazing actress, fooling him, his and even her own parents regarding the stupidest things on several occasions, even when she was younger. He, however, had gotten used to her shenanigans enough to know when she was playing around instead of being serious.

"Oh. How high was it? Are you feeling better?"

"Yeah. It wasn't actually that big of a deal, you should know that by now," she said, huffing out something between a scoff and a chuckle. "I didn't have theatre today, so I didn't think it was actually worth it to come to class."

"And by doing that you left me alone the whole day. How cruel of you."

"Oh, hush. You can survive without me just fine. What even happened that was too important for me to miss out on, hm? That quiz we were supposed to have?"

"No," Nezha said while opening up the pack of noodles. He set those aside and took the seasoning packets, pouring them into the bowl the noodles would go in. "I just hung out with Rin, nothing too serious." He was sure she could hear the smirk on his face through his tone alone.

For a second, he heard shuffling that he assumed was her sitting up in her bed. Then, unprompted, she practically screeched in what he hoped was joy. "Woah, woah, woah, slow down. How, what, when, where — tell me more, you idiot! Why didn't you call me sooner?" She was speaking so fast he would've missed what she was saying had she not been yelling at him through the phone.

Nezha sighed. "And you're telling me to slow down," he grumbled. Venka was one of the only people he felt like himself around, so he didn't bother keeping his walls up. He let the slightly childish side of himself slip out, because he didn't have to fear that she would chide him or make him fix how he was speaking.

"Okay, fine, call me hypocritical all you want. But you have to tell me more. I will literally punch you in that stupid face of yours first thing tomorrow when I see you if you don't start running your mouth immediately."

"So harsh," he huffed. "We played some chess before school, and she told me a bit about her music taste. We saw each other at lunch again and I listened to one of her favorite songs, then she accused me of flirting with her."

"Well, were you?"

"Maybe."

Nezha could envision Venka dragging a hand across her face because of him at that exact moment.

"Anyway, she gave me her number and then called me a dumbass, which I think was rather rude of her, but—"

"She what?!"

"...She called me a dumbass?"

"No, the other thing, you dense, dull-witted moron!"

Nezha pouted, even though he knew she couldn't see him. Venka had a way with words that wasn't the usual poetic type, rather the 'she can insult your whole bloodline without even cussing and still humiliate you' type, and he didn't quite appreciate it when she used that skill of hers on him. "She gave me her number?" He repeated, subconsciously glancing back at the spot where she'd written it down on his arm.

"Yes, that! Did you hallucinate that part? Did you take any drugs? Nezha, don't tell me you took drugs."

"I didn't do drugs, Venka!" he said, exasperated. The water began boiling in the meantime, so he put the noodles in to let them cook. "And I didn't hallucinate anything. I have her number written on my arm," he mumbled out.

"Right. Okay. I just can't wrap my head around the fact she'd give it to you," she said.

"Hey. I get a lot of girls' numbers."

"Yeah, 'cause you look pretty and your daddy's rich. But Rin's never cared about that, and quite frankly, I was under the impression that she still hated your guts."

"Well, I don't know. It doesn't have to mean she's into me, y'know. She could've just, like, done it as a peace offering. Like a 'hey we're cool now, we can be friends, I guess' type of thing," Nezha said, stirring the contents of the pot with his chopsticks before setting them down so he could pour the ramen into the bowl.

Venka sighed rather loudly. "Maybe. She's confusing. You're confusing. You're both confusing."

Nezha huffed out a chuckle at that, but she didn't seem to find it all that amusing, and continued talking. "Why don't you just ask her out? The worst she can say is no."

"You know my father would kill me if he found out."

"Well, he doesn't have to," she groaned.

"Ven."

"Fine. Fine! Stay the goody-two-shoes you are, for all I care." Venka might've sounded like she was angry at him, but all their conversations had a similar tonality to that one, and Nezha knew that she was merely annoyed, at worst.

Though, he also knew that by having said conversation, he'd actually admitted to being in love, even if he never said the words directly. He didn't deny anything, which meant he was warming up to the idea, which he knew meant admission, by Venka's standards. "Just— don't tell her, okay? Or anyone, for that matter."

"Kitay doesn't count."

"Fine, Kitay can know. But tell him not to tell her," he grumbled.

Venka scoffed, and he assumed that she would've rolled her eyes at him had they been face to face. "Okay. But you'll tell me the details in exchange for my oath to secrecy, won't you?"

"Oh, fuck you, you know I would've done that anyway."

All said and done, he hadn't heard her laugh so proudly at herself ever since she'd gotten him to skip Geography with her that one time. It made Nezha's lips curl up into a smile he was only somewhat glad she couldn't see.

"Yeah, go boost your own ego while I have dinner," he told her through gritted teeth just to make himself sound annoyed, and she barely gave him an amused goodbye before hanging up.

Nezha sighed. Talking to Venka was always nice, but he was back to the silence of an empty house — or, so he thought, at least. He really couldn't be bothered to check.

He'd sat down at the counter, the bowl in front of him. His hair had been growing out ever since he'd cut it in his first year, so he found the nearest hair tie and pulled his inky black locks into the simplest bun he could muster. He was mixing the seasoning up so his food actually had flavor, when he heard the front door unlock. Usually, it wasn't loud enough to be noticed, but there was no noise around to cover the sound at that moment.

Jinzha came into the kitchen shortly afterwards. He regarded Nezha with a nod, and moved along, probably to get himself some food as well. He did just that, in fact, before taking a seat next to his younger brother.

Nezha would've struck up a conversation, but his older brother looked worn, tired. He wasn't sure what he could've said to alleviate the unspoken tension.

The good news was that he didn't have to, since Jinzha was the first to talk after a few minutes of them wordlessly eating next to each other.

The bad news, however, came when he spoke. "Mingzha had a panic attack at school today."

Nezha nearly dropped his utensils. 

He had no idea why he was freaking out so bad. If Jinzha was calm, that meant that their little brother was surely okay, right? This had happened before. Not in a while, which was why he was freaking out, but it had happened. Everything turned out fine afterward. Still, despite all the logic dangling right in front of his eyes, Nezha couldn't help but get anxious. He swore he felt his heart in his throat.

Eventually, he got over the initial shock and composed himself enough to speak. "Is- is he okay? What happened? Where is he now?"

"Everything's fine. I drove him home—"

"Where the hell were mother and father during this?" Nezha wasn't all that sure that he was fully present in his own body at that moment, because he would never openly yell at anyone, let alone his older brother, quite like he did just then.

Jinzha's jaw clenched but he didn't lash out, and that small gesture of restraint made the younger boy calm down, even if only a little. He hadn't noticed his own breathing had gotten heavy. Since when was he standing up? "They're on an important business trip, but rest assured, Mingzha is perfectly fine. He's sleeping, in his room. I... Took him to buy snacks, after he recovered. He said he felt better."

The sigh of relief Nezha let out rivalled anything his own parents might've reacted with. "He's... okay. That's good. I'm glad."

Jinzha hadn't always been the best brother. He had been overcome with arrogance from the moment he learned how to walk and talk, and he'd been Nezha's first bully. Such was the pride and power of a spoiled eldest son who was set to be the family-owned company's heir. 

Lately, however, he'd been fixing his behavior. Even if the changes were slight — such as biting back insults he'd usually throw around without a care in the world, or even simply showing his brothers some love through tiny yet kind gestures — at the ripe old age of twenty-six, Jinzha was learning how to be a proper brother, not just a perfect son.

Nezha was a little salty about the attitude change happening so late, but he was still glad it was there. He was proud, even though it wasn't in his place to be. 

He got out from behind the counter, intent on going to check up on his little brother but Jinzha stopped him by putting a hand on his shoulder. Nezha willed himself not to flinch. "Dìdi. Sorry for not texting to tell you earlier," he mumbled. Then, he did something Nezha had never thought he'd do in his life. He hugged him. He actually hugged his younger brother.

It was a short gesture, Jinzha pulled away before the other even had time to react, and hurried over to his office while giving some excuse about having important paperwork to do.

The only thing Nezha could do for a solid few moments was stand there, blinking and unmoving. When he finally gathered his wits back, he headed up the stairs, quickly pressing the heels of his palms to his eyes in the meantime, so he could let his sleeves soak up the water gathering in his eyes before it could fall. He needed to see for himself that Mingzha was safe and sound.

Upon arriving to his little brother's room, he made his way to the boy's bed and kneeled down next to it. Mingzha looked peaceful. He couldn't begin to imagine how he'd looked when having a panic attack, but the most important part was that his brother was safe at that exact moment. 

Nezha turned on the night light that sat atop the nightstand — a small lamp in the shape of one of those western dragons, the kind that knights saved princesses from in bedtime stories, a far cry from the ones in old Nikara tales that now adorned practically every little detail of the Yin estate. His little brother adored anything and everything related to magic and fantasy. More importantly, he always slept better when there was a light on. Nezha knew because of the countless nights he'd spent at his side while he was crying and thrashing and begging his mind to let him sleep.

The way Mingzha described going through an attack, to Nezha, felt like he was being thrown back into the memory, the feel of drowning each time he heard more. The breathing difficulties, the utter and agonizing fear, the threat of choking on your own tongue because you just couldn't seem to breathe — Nezha shuddered at the thought of experiencing that at random.

He couldn't let himself fall down that rabbit hole of thought at that moment, though, because Mingzha was safe. His dìdi was safe. He was sound asleep, resting, and far away from the grasp of nightmares, from what Nezha could tell through his expression and breathing. Everything was alright.

He let out a sigh. Before reluctantly getting up and going to his room, he gently brushed aside a stray lock of his bother's hair away from his cheek as a sort of parting gesture, even though he was asleep.

Despite his limbs feeling like lead from an exhaustion that wasn't physical, his mind was in a jumble of knots he had no idea how to untangle. Nezha didn't think he'd get a lot of sleep that night.