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Chapter Text

Lu Guang was exhausted.

He was exhausted but he was painfully awake, fingers quick and calculated- zipping side to side, every which way with the telling click of keys. He was working, as usual, though it seemed he had increased his work hours significantly recently; by an outside pressure or a self insistence it wasn’t certain.

Cheng Xiaoshi had noticed. He’d noticed how Lu seemed a little grumpier, or that his purple-tinted under eyes seemed a little bit darker. He had started talking less, and had less and less free to indulge his roommate in entertainment; board games or whatnot. 

Actually, it got to a point that Cheng Xiaoshi hadn’t seen a glimpse of the other man for days - apart from the silent exchange of bedtime when they’d both gather in their rooms, resting on different bunks.

Cheng laid awake for many hours those nights, listening to the evermore rasp of Lu’s usual soft, shallow breaths. He had an inkling something was wrong.

At a point, he finally snapped.

Cheng was in the kitchen, idly humming to himself as he fried up two sizzling eggs for the both of them. They were almost ready, delightedly crisp and visually delicous. He’d served them out on individual, china plates and was about to beckon for his partner when he heard a clumsy slide of feet, and a loud, alarming thud before the other side of the counter.

“Lu Guang?” The ravenette spun around, umber eyes blown wide and he took a couple worried steps forward, rounding the corner of the marbled surface.

Lu was already half to his feet, pale hand to his hand, clutching his cheek of which he had presumably bashed in his fall.

The other was quick to usher him to a seat, coaxing him down with worryingly little resistance from the usual begrudging man.

“You look pale-“

“I’m fine. Don’t bother with me,” Lu mumbled, cutting him off with a slightly frown as his hand dropped slowly down to his lap.

“But-“

“I’m fine.”

“I’m getting you some water,”  Cheng objected; no nonsense as he fetched a suitable glass from the cabinet and filled it with refreshing, chilled liquid.

After managing to get Lu to drink a couple long sips, he began to interrogate him.

“Lu Guang you fainted stop brushing this off!”

“Fainting isn’t a big deal. Quit being a worry wort-“ Lu mumbled, easing himself to stand, tone dismissive; perhaps a little sharper than he intended.

Worried brown eyes followed him as he wandered slowly to the counter, leaving no option for objection.

Lu Guang had never been one to eagerly accept outside help, not even from his partner.

Lu took his seat, a hunched, slim form picking at his food like a disinterested vulture, eyes like a reptiles; yet watery and soft.

Cheng took a seat opposite him, a frown still holding his features. He didn’t say anything further, but his gaze never strayed from Lu’s now notably pale complexion.

He’s been overworking himself. Was deduced over a long, deliberating mouthful.

“How long have you felt like this?”

“Like what?” Lu snapped back at him, a lashing cobra.

Cheng flinched, bushy brows drawing into a tighter knot. “…sorry.” He whispered, following by the clink of cutlery as Lu placed down his fork, chair sliding back with a scrape that made the other cringe.

“Thanks for the breakfast.”

He’d barely touched his eggs.

-

It wasn’t until a week later that the conversation arose again.

Lu Guang had collapsed again, and this time he wasn’t getting up. 

Cheng was out at the bar with Qiao Ling; they’d offered for him to join the, but he’d politely declined as expected, and he’d been home alone for some hours now. He had been productive, completing some client files, getting some studio advertising underway and even tidied the studio top to bottom.

But now he lay, curled up on the rundown carpet that lay at the feet of the sofa, a small; frail form in the center of the overbearing furniture. They glared at him, taunting him to get up, to continue - but he couldn’t. He just couldn’t. His muscles were lax, weak and unresponsive. His body was giving up on him 

He’d lay there for a good fifteen minutes by this point, occasionally giving a fruitless shift or grunt; trying to right himself. He’d managed to flip himself onto his back, but nothing further, lidded eyes now gracing the ceiling rather than the unkept carpet. 

Perhaps… perhaps if he just finished off the final touches of the website; or he completed another dusting circuit. Maybe then he’d feel okay - awake. 

Another undetermined cycle of the clock passed; Lu Guang hadn’t moved for a while.

The doorway of the studio clicked, pushed open with the familiar whoosh of released suction and ringing of the overhead, warning bell.

Cheng Xiaoshi strode in; tone chipper as he babbled drunkenly to his sister, though it was evident she’d restricted his usual quantities by the fact he was still relatively coherent.

“Haha- that guy was such an ass,” he spun around, discarding his belonging on the counter in one foul swoop, jacket and all. 

Qiao Ling would have scolded him, if her breath had not been stolen by the shocked gasp she made moments later. “Lu Guang?”

Brought back to his senses at once, Cheng’s vision sharpened, honing in on the darker, back crevices of the studio. His partner was barely visible, a crumpled, dark form.

Rushing at once forward, the two of them were quick to be crouched by Lu’s side, gently shaking the downed man’s shoulder, attempting to rouse him.

“Lu Guang?” Cheng called to him urgently, tone hitched with worry. His partner was a limp weight, lead heavy on the ground, body convulsing slightly in the shivers granted from being so exposed. 

Qiao Ling was in full panic mode by this point, already on the phone as her brother scooped Lu up ever so gently, cradling him in his arms; like a father to his sick child.

“Lu Guang?” He repeated softly, brows drawn, “Can you hear me?”

His only response was a brief fluttering of the other’s albino lashes, signaling his dazed acknowledgment. 

“He’s barely lucid…” was reported worriedly, “If he was just sleeping he’d be scolding me by now; something’s wrong Qiao Ling.” 

“Lay him on the sofa, support his head,” she ordered him briskly, phone to her ear, speaking with the hospital; though not the emergency services.

Wasting no time, Cheng took his limp partner to their cracked leather sofa, and lay him down slowly, as if afraid Lu might shatter if he was too hasty with his deliverance, propping the guy's head up on one of the thin cushions. His hair sprawled out, a disturbing fan of blood-like white; soft and tousled. 

Crouching beside him, Cheng pressed the back of one his hands against his forehead. It was chilled, pale as if he was somehow losing blood despite a lack of wound, sending Cheng’s eyes darting to absent-mindedly check.

“He’s been off all week but never like this - he's not warm so it can’t be a fever - but he is shivering.” 

“Check his pulse,” Qiao Ling suggested, having lowered her phone to her side, approaching the two of them, dark eyes like twin moons. 

Two careful fingers were pressed against the pulse point, remaining there until he counted at least three separate, slow beats. It was as if he was just sleeping, but Lu’s eyes were open, staring at him with unsettlingly glazed, corpse-like eyes.

Hand raising up to brush lightly against Lu’s cheek, Cheng shook his head, “Can you get him some water?”

Helping him up to a slouched sit, Cheng stayed with Lu while his sister retrieved a glass quickly, handing it over. Using one hand to carefully hold Lu’s chin in an upwards slant, the glass’ rim was pressed against the drowsy man’s lips, tipped up; coaxing him to drink a couple long gulps.

Once they’d gotten him to take as much as he could, the glass was once again lowered and Lu’s head lolled to the side, resting lax against Cheng’s shoulder.

“…Stop worrying.” His voice was strained; croaky and spent; a surprise to hear.

Qiao Ling took a seat beside them both, giving Lu a reprimanding flick, “Don’t be stupid, you look a mess! Why didn’t you tell us something was wrong?”

Lu didn’t grace her with an actual answer, simply snuggling up closer to the warm shape of his partner behind him, eyes fluttering shut once more. He didn’t have the energy to think.

“…How did he get like this?” Qiao Ling spoke up after a moment, arms raising to cross.

“He’d been overworking himself. He didn’t listen to reasoning.” 

She frowned, eyes lingering a moment more in the two of them, before waving them both off, “I’ll make you two some dinner. Take him upstairs.” 

-

Their room was warm, meticulously tidy; Cheng noted as he walked in slowly, Lu cuddled close in his arms, zonked. He must have put out a couple incense sticks, because the scent was fresh and floral, mixing nicely with the soft watercolour moonlight that lightly dusted the interior. 

Walking to their bunk, Lu was placed gently on the bottom mattress; it was Cheng’s bed, but he didn’t want to disturb the guy anymore by trying to lug him upwards to his own bed.

Gently moving the duvet upwards over his partner's loose shoulders, Cheng placed a light peck on the other’s pale forehead.

“You work yourself too much my love,” his words were feather soft, airy yet caring. His hand gravitated to where Lu’s arms were curled up to his chest in an almost vulnerable, fetal position and took his hand, smoothing his thumb over each of his partner’s supple knuckles

Lu was allowed to rest for a couple hours, before his soup was reheated; once Qiao Ling had departed for the night, and Cheng had stayed up with him far past his usual hours to help him eat. He’d perched on the bed beside where Lu had been propped up, and was gradually spoon-feeding him his soup, coaxing every mouthful slowly as to not prompt a rejection.

Once he was well fed and watered, he was left once again to sleep, Cheng retiring to sleep on the floor beside where Lu lay in case he may need something.

-

The next day’s morning was brighter, the sun gracing the room in warm, encompassing beams; far friendlier than the relenting drizzle of rain they’d suffered yesterday. Cheng Xiaoshi had gotten up early, unlike him but he had wanted to check on Lu. 

But Lu wasn’t there- or rather, it wasn’t him. Beneath the thick, warm duvet lay a smaller, fluffier form. 

“Lu Guang?” Cheng beckoned, crouching by the bedside.

This wasn’t the first time this had happened, usually during a time of intense stress or, as it seemed, exhaustion, 

The feline’s eyes peeked open, wary, blue slits that blearily lifted to eye Cheng.

“Oh you silly Guang Guang. Look what you’ve done to yourself!” He was scolded gently, hand warily reaching forwards, only to be batted away by a lashing white paw.

“Ssssk-“ Cheng winced, recoiling, “Hey, I’m trying to help you. Work with me here.”

Soft ears curled back - pinned against the animal‘s head in disagreement.

Eventually he managed to get Lu to cooperate with him, carrying him downstairs in a similar fashion to last night, just now with a much lighter load.

“Are you hungry?” A mirrrped reply. “I’ll get you some ham, hm?” 

Taking his partner to the sofa, he set him down, and retrieved the open packet from fridge, removing one stripped and pleasantly cooled piece of meat and offering it over in teared off junks.

Lu seemed far more lively this morning, devouring the meal eagerly from Cheng’s outstretched hand. 

 “You enjoyed that?” Cheng smiled down at him fondly, brushing his palms off on his lap. Lu’s tail gave a lazy flick as he eased himself upwards, padding over to Cheng and pawing at him expectantly. 

Catching the hint, the other shifted backwards to lean against the sofa cushion, allowing his partner to clamber up onto his lap, and sprawl out across his chest.

Offering a few long strokes along the length of soft fur that covered Lu’s downy body, it seemed his partner had recovered considerably after his long sleep, and his muscles had lost the agitated twitch they had yesterday, now lax and warm.

He even, though Lu Guang would have never admitted to it, started purring. 

Chapter Text

The moon was a pearlescent curve sat relaxed on the rise of a cloud; cradled between two carved mountains that rose upwards from the purplish ground below them. Trees gathered at its base then sprawled out over the expanse of the field below the balcony.

A balcony of which the moonlight graced in gentle watercolour smears and of which a man with hair as white as the stars strobing above, sat; bent over in weary; spine comfortably lax and head rested against his folded elbows. 

He was sleeping; lulled by the pleasantly chill wild that smoothed past his pale skin, the trickling of nearby water and occasional call of a nocturnal bird making its presence known from somewhere within the undergrowth.

His dark eyes were dropped closed, albino lashed downturned like the frills off a dancing woman’s dress and the grace of a lavishly furred feline. One might compare him to one, actually; with his quiet demeanor and odd skill of finding the most unusual places to lay his head and rest.

Affectionately compared; as his partner thought anyway. A contrastingly dark haired man who stood behind the first, lent comfortably against the doorframe and silhouetted by the gently warm glow from within the room.  He watched with quiet admiration and up turned lips which betrayed of the blood warming his cheaps.

“Always a sleepy one, Lu Guang.” He whispered to himself softly, shifting his way forward to perch beside the other and draping the insulating, soft yarn blanket he had brought neatly over his shoulders, snuggling close it to protect Lu’s exposed neck and arms from the nightly breeze.

“I love you…” he whispered as he leaned closer, an arm snaking around Lu’s back to hold him close.

Lu Guang heard him.

He heard him and he the felt warmth of his hands; warm, sticky and fresh.

“I love you” His partner repeated but this time his voice was croaked and he seemed to be struggling to air. No, he was choking; suffocating.

Cheng Xiaoshi was dying.

Lu’s face was crumpled, not sleeping, not peaceful.

“I know. I know you do” he squeezed out, both hands clutching his partner's hands in tearful fervour, “I know. I love you too.” It was all he could manage. 

But perhaps that was all that was needed. He was half gone already; perhaps he could no longer hear him at all. All Lu Guang could do was hope he knew he wasn’t alone.

That Lu Guang was there, and he wasn’t alone.