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The night grew late. The old woman grew visibly tired and left for bed, Changhe bidding her goodnight as she went. Muyu felt an ache in his heart as he watched Changhe smile at her kindly, as if here were merely an ordinary young person given a chance to stay in a nice bed on a long night.
"We can't stay long," Changhe said. He tossed his hair out of his eyes and stood, slowly shedding that sweet smile.
Muyu could serious thoughts returning to Changhe's face, the tension starting to return to his body.
"Just a little while," Muyu said, like an offering.
Changhe held his gaze, and a hint of something hopeful whispered across his face. "A little while."
Changhe strolled over to the bed and sat, his intense gaze keeping Muyu spellbound the whole while.
Muyu sat next to him on the bed. It was late and they were tired and their bellies full, and yet, all he could think of was how kind Changhe had been to the old woman, how few opportunities life had given him to be so sweet. What a waste it was that he hadn't been allowed to be caring like that to strangers for his whole life.
It was impossible not to lean in toward him. Changhe's eyes were too warm with affection not to be drawn in to them. Muyu leaned his forehead against Changhe's and closed his eyes, and still in, his mind's eye, the memory of Changhe's turned his insides to liquid heat.
It was Changhe who leaned in close enough to turn it into a kiss first. His mouth was soft, gentle in a way that didn't match at all with the rest of his life. It was Muyu, overwhelmed by their closeness, who grabbed at him and turned the kiss ravenous, hands grasping at the strength of Changhe's shoulders. Changhe opened up to him, hands soon becoming as restless over Muyu's body as Muyu's were over his.
A pause to put their weapons to the side, and then Muyu pressed Changhe to the bed. Pressed this close, it was almost like they could become one being, one thought. In their clothes they were too hot, but it would have been unwise to fully undress; they made do with pressing against each other like this.
The kindness of the old woman to let them use her son's bed for a night; the kindness of Changhe in indulging her; for a moment Muyu was so overwhelmed by it he could only think of how beautiful the world could be, the cracks of light that seeped in to even their place in the dark. How lovely people could be to each other if they were allowed. His face grew wet.
"You're too sentimental," Changhe said, pushing Muyu back to wipe his tears. But the smile on his face was so soft and sweet that Muyu knew Changhe was no better than he. "You should sleep while we can."
Muyu rolled over. The feeling was in him still.
When they awoke, wakefulness coming on them fast, the night was still dark and the fireworks still going. Their ordinary life was determined to intrude. And yet, as they walked outside, that moment and warmth lingered inside them still. The words that spilled out of them were still soft and heartfelt, more genuine and kind than anything assassins should share with each other.
And Muyu knew this moment would linger in him forever, that in dark moments he would always have this memory to take out and hold, that sweetness to return to, no matter how much it hurt.