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Hong Lu thinks he likes the man who sits on the long bench in front of him. Many of the other sinners are quite a chatty bunch, and those who favor quietness don’t have the same serenity that Yi Sang emits. It’s the kind one would find while taking a lone walk in the woods. With the way Yi Sang glances in his direction, he thinks the feeling is mutual.
For the first few months into their journey, very few words are exchanged between them. Just friendly greetings and partings. Yi Sang speaks to him and others in such a clinical tone. He sounds like a dispassionate doctor speaking to a patient. Still, Hong Lu can see the melancholy he carries in his hollow eyes. With the passage of time, they learn the true extent of the pain he carries in his narrow chest. It’s during that time that Yi Sang shares his first smile with Hong Lu. His unpracticed smile doesn’t twitch at the corners like Gregor’s, but it’s so faint that it could be easily missed.
“Are you feeling ok, Yi Sang?” Hong Lu inquires while looming over him. He’s looking at a scene in the Mirror with such a peaceful expression, that he almost feels guilty intruding upon this private moment.
“Never better,” Yi Sang replies with a honey-sweet smile.
He continues to watch Yi Sang from afar, noting the way he acts like glue to repair rifts between the other sinners. Hong Lu hopes that the hole in his heart will forever stay mended.
Their mission to collect the golden boughs takes them on a peerless journey across the Great Lake. Even during moments of tranquility, an off-colored Yi Sang stays entrapped in his room with a rusty bucket resting between his clammy looking hands.
“Are you feeling better, Yi Sang?” Hong Lu asks once he’s granted permission to enter his room.
He clearly isn’t, but Hong Lu allows the meaningless question to leave his lips anyway to give Yi Sang a reminder. A reminder that there’s one more person on this busboat who cares about his wellbeing even if his seasickness is being drowned out by the more pressing concerns that the Waves bring.
“In due time,” Yi Sang weakly replies with a crooked smile, before his face lurches into the bucket again.
Thinking of his predicament, Hong Lu returns back to his room to dig inside a chest of small personal belongings, hoping to find some stray boluses at the bottom. He feels the smallest twinge of regret for not having the foresight to pack some for such occasions.
"Is there aught that troubles you, Hong Lu?"
After the fall of La Manchaland, Yi Sang is the one to strangely check in on him once the sinners are allowed to rest. He stands there at the doorframe of his room awaiting his answer with clear anticipation on his face. Like something as insignificant as Hong Lu’s feeling is worth its weight in gold. He sits on the edge of his bed with an expression devoid of emotions. Only a placid smile remains in these ruins.
“I think you should be asking Don Quixote. I have never seen that twinkle in her eyes look so dim.”
“I have and she has reassured me that the lights are still on and the curtain has yet to fall. I told her that if she wishes to continue this stageplay, then as a member of her audience, she has my fullest support.”
Hong Lu hums thoughtfully. “That’s good. I’ll support her decision as well.”
“But you - had a bittersweet departing with a close relative. I am inclined to believe that no one has stopped by to measure how much your heart has wavered after that encounter.”
“My heart, huh…”
Hong Lu places a hand over his chest. Physically he can feel it, beating like always. But emotionally, it’s just a dried up well. He perfectly understands why Yi Sang is concerned. Seeing Xichun leave must’ve awakened certain memories of such departures.
“I suppose…that I’m glad that she’s alive and well. And Mr. Wei too.” Hong Lu slowly relents with the same placid smile.
“Do you have aught to say?” Yi Sang asks with an encouraging smile.
Hong slightly tilts his head unsure of what words Yi Sang is attempting to draw out of this empty well. “Hmmm nope ~ ”
“I see. Nearly a year later, you still seem to be like water. Water that gently follows the ebbs and flows of the life granted to it. Never does it divert to a new path."
Hong Lu merely shrugs at the thoughtful, yet somewhat crestfallen look on Yi Sang’s face. “You have such a keen eye. It truly is admirable.”
“May I…attempt to evoke something novel from you?”
He thinks he feels uncertain, but his voice remains as still as that flow itself. “Sure. You can try.”
Yi Sang carefully closes the distance between them to place a timid kiss on his cheek. Hong Lu’s heart throbs loudly. Maybe he really can shift the first stone.
“Wait,” Hong Lu mutters, before he pulls Yi Sang forward again with a tug on his tie. This time he’s the one to initiate the kiss, but on his lips instead. It lasts for just a few seconds and doesn’t go any further than a peck on Yi Sang’s mouth, but it’s enough for his heart to drum to a stronger beat. For color to spread across his face. But nothing more than that.
“Sorry, Yi Sang,” he says, drinking in the redness on his face. This might be the first time in the longest that he truly means it.
“There exists no reason for you to apologize,” Yi Sang utters with a sad smile. “Have a peaceful night free of ailing thoughts, Hong Lu.”
Weeks later, he’s again sitting on the end of a bed, but with Yi Sang’s welcomed presence right beside him. Yi Sang lets him quietly study the patterns on his old bedroom ceiling that he has seen more times than he can count. Now he can fully appreciate the intricate patterns. Hong Lu can even feel the labor behind the tired hands that designed it.
He shows gentle enthusiasm towards his once empty well. A well that was never truly barren in the first place. A pleased sigh leaves his chest when Yi Sang folds a hand on top of his. Hong Lu lightly squeezes it.
“Did…anybody ever find the heart to embrace you? To tell you that the sun will rise again no matter how bleak it may be? That everything will be ok? I know naught, but I believe that you were left to bear these feelings in mostly solitude.”
Someone please hold me…tell me everything will be alright.
He remembers his childhood self crying and begging to be heard. To be comforted. To embrace another fellow human being. But instead all he received was bountiful praise for his “wonderful gift” all while a stream of tears flowed down his face.
Not too long ago, Hong Lu’s lips would be curled up into a small smile, preparing to brush aside Yi Sang’s concerns like a thin layer of dust. The smile is still there, but the snuffed out embers within have been ignited once more. Sorrow is what he feels.
“I willingly choose that solitude. I pushed people who cared about me away. I thought it was for the best. That there was no point in holding onto connections that were fated to end. It’s not their fault. It was never their fault.”
Yi Sang shuffles closer. The close proximity doesn’t bother him in the slightest. He stretches out a hand to wipe at the corner of his eye with a thumb. The touch was so feather soft, that Hong Lu could barely feel it. Like a kiss delivered by the wind. He then spots a lone clear droplet on Yi Sang’s finger.
Did I just…cry?
He admittedly felt a stinging sensation in his eyes, but he figured that he shed the last of his tears back in Tiekan Temple. A cascade of them in fact.
“Should I safely assume that this is no longer the case? Will you stay grounded and walk with your fellows old and new?” Yi Sang asks, seemingly captivated by the droplet on his finger.
It’s Hong Lu’s turn to again express his new found feelings, but unfettered curiosity slips into his mind. What is going through Yi Sang’s head as he admires the teardrop? Does he too see further evidence of his willingness to walk a new, brighter path? That he doesn’t want to be shackled to that shell of a man anymore? Can he feel his burning desires to tread future troubled waters with his friends by his side?
“I’m sure you already have your answers. You know my true heart, don’t you?”
Hong Lu can feel that sorrow chipping away and crumbling down to fuel that small flickering flame in his chest. With Yi Sang’s cozy smile fanning it into something bigger, Hong Lu feels incredibly warm.
And loved.
“But I sure could use that hug though,” Hong Lu says with a bubble of soft laughter.
It was a joke. Sorta. But Yi Sang holds him dearly anyway. Who was the last person to embrace him like this? Probably poor Xiren. The nostalgic feelings of being snugly wrapped in a protective cocoon again is nice. So nice in fact that Hong Lu doesn’t want it to end any time soon. If he could sink into his flesh and become one with him just for a solid minute, he would gladly accept that short lived privilege.
“In happiness, joy, sorrow, and wrath, I and many others are shoulders that you can reliably lean on. Perhaps even after journey's end. It will be ok, Hong Lu,” Yi Sang softly assures, rubbing his back through that mountain of dark hair. His voice carries so much sincerity that it makes him truly anchored to the ground, never to see himself floating in that cloud again.
There’s that familiar prickling in his eyes as a single tear slides down his face. And then another. The third has him burying his face into Yi Sang’s chest. His slow heartbeat sounds like a soothing lullaby. Its steady rhythm cradles him until the tears cease.
Yi Sang wishes to leave to allow him to sleep, brushing aside his apology over the damp spot on his shirt. Hong Lu is easily able to convince him to stay the night. Just like the moon is meant to remain in the night sky, Yi Sang’s place is right at his side.
And yet, it would be a blatant lie to say that he doesn’t feel anxiety bubbling at the surface of his skin. This will be the first time sleeping next to someone he has ever growing fondness for. They lay together, both staring at the same ceiling, looking as stiff as driftwood despite the close embrace just minutes ago.
“You’ve always poked and prodded at my withered heart, hoping it would spring to life,” Hong Lu slowly begins, still unable to face him. “I don’t know where you found the patience for it. Many people would let the effort go and allow me to wallow in my helplessness. Many people did in fact.”
“Not many moons ago, I would be sharing the same thoughts with those people. What hasn’t changed is that you remain to be…special, Hong Lu. Your smile continues to drift me away to brighter days.”
Special . He might be overthinking it, but he’s willing to take that risk. He wants to face any hurdles and grow from them rather than fade away. If rejection comes his way, it’ll sting for days. Weeks maybe. But it’s alright in the end.
“I really like you, Yi Sang.”
With new found courage, he’s able to turn towards his direction. Yi Sang takes a fleeting glance at his face.
“I like you too, Hong Lu,” Yi Sang says, biting his lip.
“Haha, I’m sure you’re able to read between the lines.”
It doesn’t take much coaxing to get Yi Sang’s face to relax in Hong Lu’s cupped hands. He holds him like a man, who was dying of thirst, holds onto fresh water from an oasis. A precious necessity. Just like that night before, he kisses him, but with a heated promise left behind on his lips.
“As stated already, I like you too. My feelings are as real as the eventual rise of the morning sun.” Yi Sang says with a peaceful smile, letting their foreheads touch.
His heart swells and feels like it weighs a ton in his chest. It threatens to fall from his ribcage and tumble towards the pit of his stomach.
“Aaa ~ so I should've taken my own advice just now. Again, I like you a lot, Yi Sang.”
The two share a soft bout of laughter before allowing the tug of a dreaming world to lead them towards a peaceful night of sleep.