Work Text:
A tense, overcast evening was settling over Guangzhou. Even the horns of the cars stuck in those endlessly frustrating traffic jams sounded less harsh, muffled by the heavy, low gray sky and the smog that made it hard to breathe.
All of that was finally behind him—left outside the iron gates with their menacing, glinting security cameras. Behind the wide strip of meticulously manicured lawn. Behind the heavy doors that needed to be locked tight, sealing off the day for good. Shutting himself inside the silence of the massive building, as if it had taken root in the ground. Solid and almost comforting in its weight. Unlike everything else today that seemed determined to grind him into the shiny parquet floors until his spine would crack.
But now, at last, he could stretch, loosen the shoulders that had knotted with tension. Wedge a couple of fingers between his neck and the suffocating collar, easing the noose of his tie. And he didn’t have to look poised and authoritative—just, for fuck’s sake, tired. There was no one here to impress. Which meant he could finally let his guard down.
Exhale. Toss his jacket aside—a maid immediately picked it up. It would be cleaned and put away in his closet before Cheng even thought about looking for it next time. Not that he owned only one jacket. Or even just ten. It was just that order was important. When everything around him was orderly, it made it a little easier to handle the chaos that filled so much of his daily life Random people, random events. Both were usually rather unpleasant.
But here, at home, there was nothing and no one random. Only those—and only things—that were supposed to be here. That belonged. He already knew where he was headed now, and what he would do. It was Friday. Which meant he had a right to relax. Sadly, that didn’t mean he had the right to ignore the damn phone, which had an annoying habit of ringing at any—damn it—hour with urgent—damn them—news.
But for now, everything was fine. For now, it was quiet. And he could bypass the upstairs entirely and head straight to the far room. Cheng was secretly quite proud of this room. Secretly, because he never told anyone about it. Only staff from the service company had access here, and each of them was carefully vetted and underwent an extra check in the security office every time. And then there were three more people. Himself, his younger brother, and the person who was already here right now. Two maids. Their contracts spelled out full confidentiality in black and white. It was in their best interest to uphold it That’s what they were paid for. They would stay silent. Because this room demanded absolute silence. It suited its inhabitants perfectly. Quiet and ruthlessly efficient killers. Right here, on both sides of the glass.
Bluish reflections filtered through the depths of water, casting a lifeless hue across the skin. Cheng walked in without a sound and sat down in his favorite chair. It was unusual for him, but he suddenly felt a painful spasm run through his muscles. He needed to relax. He shouldn’t look. But his eyes kept drifting back to that broad back. Those arms. Arms that were crisscrossed with lines and stars—brownish-pink lines and star-shaped scars left behind from wounds long healed. There were so many. It seemed impossible for someone to survive so much damage. Yet the man standing before him was alive. Which meant he could breathe, even if unevenly. Fingers gripping the armrests of the expensive leather chair until the knuckles turned white.
He wanted to stretch out here, lounging back, lighting up a cigarette and sipping whiskey, listening to the clink of ice cubes, squinting as he breathed in the scent and rolled the burning alcohol over his tongue. Maybe later. Right now, the only thing occupying his attention was the outline of those firm muscles. He knew them by touch. And that very short bristle of bleached hair. Not that Qiu was fond of being touched. He either tolerated it or immediately hit back. From Cheng—he tolerated it. He didn’t even flinch if Cheng decided he could and wanted to touch him. He’d just freeze and wait for that moment of contact to pass, never making eye contact. What was behind it? It definitely wasn’t embarrassment. Embarrassment and Qiu simply didn’t go together. Even now… he knew he wasn’t alone. He knew he was being watched. Qiu never lost his focus; he was like a predator—sensing everything, staying still only because he knew exactly who was watching him. And he allowed it. He allowed him. And very soon, he would allow even more. What comes next—belongs to no one else.
Because for Cheng—he’s ready. And every one of those scars is proof of that. Bloody proof. Terrifying proof. He never once hesitated when he threw himself in the way of the explosion, shielding with his back, taking the full blast of sharp shards of glass and metal. The medical team spent hours afterward pulling them out. Cheng wished he could have been there. In that sterile operating room. Even if he’d contaminated it with his own non-sterility. He was covered in blood, too. Everything was covered in blood. At that moment, Cheng thought it was over. That he had lost him. The one who always stood behind him, a silent wall of support. And then, suddenly, he stepped forward—without waiting for an order. He caught every single piece of shrapnel meant for Cheng. Cheng didn’t have so much as a scratch. Qiu, not a single unscathed spot on his body. But even then, it felt like Cheng had been wounded. Yet he missed one shard, and it lodged so deep that no surgeon could ever remove it. It went straight into his heart. And it’s still there. Cheng involuntarily rubs his chest where that phantom sharp, razor-edged piece is embedded—something he doesn’t want to name.
Qiu turns around. His gaze is just as sharp. Just as cutting. But then it softens. This is a place for silence, so neither of them says a word. It would be unnecessary. Without a sound, Qiu simply walks past, his usual noiseless steps carrying him along the clear glass behind which lies a blue abyss, filled with shifting dark shadows. The same shadows that live inside both of them. And it’s best not to let those shadows rise to the surface. Hands in his pockets, he is calm and composed. He’s here to show Cheng this again. And every time—it feels like the first. Heart pounding. Back slick with sweat. A scream caught in advance, trapped somewhere deep inside, far away from the tightened throat.
By touch, Cheng finds the glass the maid left for him He leans back in the chair, pretending to be relaxed, though every muscle in his body is tense. He knows how to wait. This is his personal hell, but he wouldn’t trade it for anything. Because soon, among the predators gliding behind the glass, there will be one more. And which of them is the most dangerous—that’s still an open question. Although, really, there’s no need to wonder. Of course, it’s the white one. The one who can kill someone with his bare hands in seconds. Or, in those same seconds, save a life.
Even so, Cheng flinches violently when he appears on the other side of the glass. His hands grip the armrests so tightly a faint crack can be heard. That sound feels like it breaks something inside. He leans forward and looks. He stares at the completely naked body moving freely in the dark, shimmering water. A wild attraction for madmen. People like Qiu. People like Cheng himself. For the sole spectator—right now no one else dares look at the transparent wall separating two universes: one filled with air, the other with water. And in each, the tension is wound unbearably tight. The sharks have been fed. Reliable people take care of that. Cheng repeats this to himself over and over, but it doesn’t help one bit. Because—all it takes is a single scratch, just a fleeting one... It could be so small it’s barely noticeable—a trivial thing on land, but a death sentence on the other side. Among all those scars, it could easily go unnoticed. And then a shark will attack.
Qiu takes a knife with him. He handles it masterfully—Cheng has seen it. Cheng himself is pretty good with weapons, but he wouldn’t want to go up against Qiu. That thought lingers in his mind for a while until he realizes it would be a mock fight. Qiu wouldn’t be able to hurt him. And Cheng isn’t even sure he could hurt Qiu. Even if it were a matter of life and death. He would sooner drive that knife into his own throat than... what a foolish fantasy.
But right now, there’s a completely surreal scene in front of him. Qiu swims up to the glass and looks straight at him. Like an alien from another world. He allows himself to be seen, properly. Usually, he wears a thin neoprene suit or at least swim trunks. What made him decide to dive in today wearing nothing at all?
Cheng’s gaze glides over the familiar outlines of that powerful yet perfectly proportioned body, suspended in the depths of the water. He’s beautiful. No, that’s not quite right. He’s unrealistically beautiful. Every movement is fluid, like an ocean current. Right now, he is like the sea itself—captivating and dangerous. And that pull can no longer be resisted. Cheng stands up and approaches, each step feeling as if he’s pushing through resistance. As if it isn’t Qiu on the other side of the glass, but Cheng himself who’s moving through a dense, elastic element—and he has no choice but to push against it. Step. Another step. This must be what it feels like to walk to the gallows. To walk off a cliff. An adrenaline tremor and a sense of detachment—two things that shouldn’t go together, but here they are, converging in this moment. His ears pop as if he’s deep underwater, unable to equalize the pressure. It refuses to adjust, squeezing his lungs, which feel almost empty of air. At least Qiu has a supply of oxygen. But Cheng doesn’t. He could use a scuba tank or at the very least an oxygen mask. Something to help him breathe more freely.
Freedom. Maybe that’s what Qiu is searching for too? What a ridiculous idea—to look for freedom inside a confined box, even if it’s a giant Aquarium. He says he likes the feeling of freedom. But that’s later, after they leave the walls of the silent room behind. When they return to the outside world. For now—there’s no speaking. Just watching. Staring without blinking, until his eyes ache. Memorizing the shape of every muscle, the winding pattern of the tattoo, which is already etched so sharply in his memory that recreating it would be effortless. Fair skin, light hair, sculpted muscles, sharp features. Cheng watches. He admires him. Not even bothering to look indifferent anymore. He’s excited, but it isn’t desire—it’s more like an irrational exhilaration, the kind that makes his nostrils flare, his mouth go dry, his fingers tremble slightly as they rest against the glass. As if he could reach out, touch, grasp. But the glass is an impenetrable barrier between them. If their eyes meet—he’ll know for sure He’ll understand everything now swirling molten inside, everything Cheng hides and has hidden. He lifts his eyes. Surely Qiu won’t see anything— even clear water blurs all outlines. Cheng wants to believe that.
A sudden motion behind him jerks his gaze to meet the empty black spots on the shark’s face. The jaws open— and in an instant, everything cuts off and is hurled into chaos. Qiu’s eyes are focused solely on Cheng. What is he doing?! The split second as Cheng’s palms slam against the glass in a helpless attempt to warn him… this is the silence room. No sounds exist here. No shouting is possible.
The shark’s jaw snaps shut. Blood. Blue turns to red, swallowing everything from view. The sharks are supposed to be fed. But sometimes, that just isn’t enough.
The technical metal staircase lined with rubber pads—he flew up it in seconds, counting each one to himself, mentally plotting his next moves. He might still make it in time There was never any doubt about whether he should dive in after the sharks riled up by blood. It was simply his turn.
But he didn’t have to do it. By the time he leaned over the water from the top step, a hand had already grabbed hold of the slippery metal railing. A splash, a tug, cold wet skin… and then they were both lying on the platform, with Qiu coughing, spitting out water. It was frightening to even look at his arm and side— the wounds from the shark’s teeth looked terrible. He was covered in blood, but only now did he let go of the long knife, which landed with a dull thud on the rubberized surface.
“Let go… I’ll get you dirty. Just—” his breath came in ragged, whistling gasps. He shattered the silence into pieces. It didn’t matter— Cheng would never allow this place to exist anymore; it had died along with the fish that floated belly up, its body twitching as it was torn apart by its own kind. Qiu’s pale, icy eyes turned even lighter— they seemed to be rolling back. Playing the hero. Idiot. But— a living idiot. The important thing was for it to stay that way.
Hospital corridors are always flooded with light. But inside—it’s dark. So dark you can’t see a thing. A sleepless night has left even blacker shadows under his eyes. He Cheng always acts with confidence. He makes decisions quickly and carefully. And he accepts the consequences of those decisions. There’s no other way—lives and destinies depend on him. Humans are fragile creatures, even those who believe themselves strong. Just one careless second, a single sudden movement, and everything changes, inevitably and terribly. Forever. But there are still things one can do. Even if it leaves him with invisible scars. That’s how it’s always been—Qiu gets his scars on the outside. Cheng gets his on the inside. Balance. But yesterday, that balance tipped and crashed, splintering with a deafening crack. And just like that, Cheng himself is breaking apart, fracturing inside as he opens the hospital room door.
White. Wrapped in white bandages. On a white bed, surrounded by white walls. The only black spot here is Cheng himself. And now he’s about to become even darker.
“Sorry, boss,” comes a weak voice. “I heal fast, you know that. Give me a few days and I’ll be back…”
“You’re fired.”
This place—totally the wrong setting—but now even here a heavy silence settles in. He doesn’t believe it. He shouldn’t. Cheng hasn’t slept. He’s thought it all over. He made his decision. And now he’s facing the consequences.
“Really?” he smiles.
What?
Carefully, inch by inch, he raises himself and sits up. He winces, gasping for air. Waits for the dizziness and black spots in his vision to pass. Then he leans heavily against the headboard with his good arm. The one with the tattoo—the pattern Cheng could recreate from memory. Have you lost your mind? Cheng doesn’t know what to do. Not now. He shouldn’t get any closer. He should turn around and leave, but instead, he just watches as Qiu grits his teeth and slowly stands up. One step. Another. Right up close. And then fingers grab his neck, squeezing painfully—how can he still have so much strength? Their foreheads press together. Breathing. A kiss…
“Did you decide this would be better for me, Cheng? Trying to protect me from yourself?”
He’d have hit him. But right now, Qiu is barely hanging on as it is. Move the wrong way and the white bandages will be stained red. He tries again.
“Who gave you the right to touch me?” — His voice is like snow covering jagged ice underneath. — Get back in bed. Come settle up once you’re better. I’ve already paid for your treatment.
"Well, you’re not my boss anymore—you fired me yourself. So I don’t have to follow orders, — his hand trembles but doesn’t let go. Another kiss. On the cheekbone. And again on tightly pressed lips. — And I can say and do whatever I want. I’ve wanted you for so long…"
Fragments. Whatever is left once he finishes saying this. Cheng knows what to do when someone points a gun at his head. He knows what to do when the ground is burning beneath his feet. But what to do when someone confesses this to him—he has no idea. Damn aquarium. Damn Qiu. Damn sharks…
He closes his eyes and allows it. Touching. Kissing. He allows himself to feel how, instead of shattering completely, something is mending inside him, making his blood race. He has left scars on Qiu’s body. Qiu is lodged in his heart with his own fragments. And it seems this—will be forever...