Chapter Text
Rain poured as the night covered the sky. Street lights flickered around him, and footsteps with splashing sounds echoed as he ran. It was this nightmare again. He ran forward as fast as his powers could take him– faster , but his limbs didn't listen–he was always a step too late.
Blood splattered on him as a gunshot rang out. Now, the silence in his mind was louder than his own scream back then.
He fell onto his knees, everything and everyone else disappearing as he was left alone with Shang Chao's corpse. His hand stretched out towards his friend's face, fingers trailing a pale– lifeless, he had to remember –cheek.
And like every single time he had had this dream, he held the corpse gently. The cold touch of the body felt freezing against his own warmth.
At first, he'd cry and scream whenever the scene repeated itself. At some point, he'd grown desensitized; the anger, fear, shame, and regret were ever present, but the tears refused to fall.
However, as the sobs grew quieter, the thoughts in his mind grew louder. How could you let him die? Why did you have to be so jealous? What was the point of becoming a hero when you can't do anything? If you can't even protect those close to you, how'd you ever expect to protect anyone else?
His mind taunted him over and over again. Yang Cheng couldn't even clench his fists; his body refusing to heed any command. Every muscle locked tight while his mind kept screaming at him.
He tried to focus on the way his chest rose shallowly, each breath catching in his throat on the verge of suffocating him. Do something. Anything.
When he woke up, the feeling of numbness remained. Had it ever left him after Shang Chao's death?
He willed his body to move, and almost mechanically, as if his joints needed oil, he sat up. He looked down at his now-empty palm, closing and opening it a few times, where seconds ago he'd been holding him; now his hand clenched around nothing.
Somehow, like every day since Shang Chao’s death, he managed to stand up–even though his body just wanting to kneel under the crushing pressure of guilt.
He sluggishly dragged himself to the kitchen, and as he raised his head, the corner of his eye caught a figure.
The hallucinations were probably the worst part of all of this. His mind didn't stop at taunting him within his own body; it also conjured up images of his friend, his biggest regret, around him.
The illusions mocked him; whenever he got too close, they disappeared. Was he destined never to be able to reach the other?
But, as he got closer–even if the ghosts of his friend did end up disappearing, he couldn't help the attraction pulling him close, compelling him to approach the other–this apparition didn't flicker away.
Instead, it got closer, and Yang Cheng's breathing stopped. His body froze, his heart stilled, and his muscles tensed. The figure got close enough for their breaths to mingle in the space between them, well, if it had been breathing.
The last thing Shang Chao remembered was the screams of his name filled with panic and fear. He rested a hand on his forehead. He died, right?
So, he had no clue how he found himself standing in what seemed to be a kitchen; however, the furniture surrounding him wasn't familiar. So, who’s house was he in? More importantly, how was he here?
The sound of heavy footsteps caught his attention, and he looked up. Familiar blue eyes, familiar dark hair, unfamiliar scars. Yang Cheng? Was that Yang Cheng?
The other's gaze swept over him, apathy and a touch of something else flickering through, as if he was going to disappear at any moment.
What had happened to him? He wanted to know. His beloved friend looked like he'd been through so much. He stepped closer to the other. Yang Cheng stiffened, posture locking in on themselves.
"Yang Cheng?" The name came out softly from his lips.
Yang Cheng did not respond, his body still frozen. Shang Chao brought up a hand to Yang Cheng's jawline and held it gently.
After what felt like an eternity, Yang Cheng's lips parted.
"Shang Chao?" His voice, barely above a whisper, said so carefully as if a louder sound would crumble reality.
"Hmm?" He wrapped his arms around his friend, the grief in the other's voice left him feeling like he needed to comfort the other somehow.
And at Shang Chao's reply, like a taut string snapping, Yang Cheng closed his eyes and finally melted into Shang Chao's embrace. Please let this not be a dream.