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They hadn’t even kissed yet.
As the world blurred around him, the smell of blood and the spark of the gunshot sounding fierce and then dull, this thought was singular.
The inept men sent by Chi Cheng’s father, heavily intoxicated and homophobic in vague intent. They had sneered at Wu Suowei, skinny and pretty. They were hypocrites, trying to paw at him as he wrangled around their sweaty, dirty bodies in self-defense.
He had longed fiercely for the rich, handsome heir, his adrenaline fueling his honesty more than his inner subterfuge about ‘revenged love’.
I wish you were here, Chi Cheng.
He was a country boy. He loved his Shifu and his mother dearly. He smiled as he walked barefoot through cornfields, munching on nature’s yield happily.
He enjoyed making pretty floral arrangements in Shifu’s surgery from the eclectic offerings of the Aunties who came to see Dr Jiang.
And he loved the feeling of Chi Cheng’s arms around him, the few times they had been closer in their flirtatious dance.
The men were tiring him: although they were overweight and lurching about drunkenly, their number did not back his odds.
“Fucking fag. I bet this one doesn’t even have a prick...want to know what a real one feels like boy?” Their words were pure hatred, blurring his eyes with tears at how dirty it made such an act seem.
These men didn’t know him. How could they know the secret, quiet dreams he had of himself and Chi Cheng? That he had barely begun to fantasize, blushing when he thought about Chi Cheng naked, was part of his lovely, sweet journey to tenderness.
Standing in the foul-smelling alley, he longed for deep fresh breaths from his mother's garden. The roughcast walls were scratching his bare arms. He felt cold and lonely, afraid and broken.
The foul words continued, his movements slowing from lethargy. A fist swung at him, a flash of silver from a hidden knife—
Dark eyes. Glossy black hair, falling messily over a handsome face.
Ineffable trust, something that meant safety.
Silky rich clothing now cushioned his bare, grazed skin. A brief righting, with his body firmly put behind a tall lithe sporty form.
“You’ve got one chance...leave now, and I won’t tell your boss that you accepted a deal from my father...walk away...”
Chi Cheng.
Chi Cheng was here, curling his fingers around Wu Suowei’s behind his back.
He was warm and confident. Present and alive.
Wu Suowei’s blood trilled, hoping that this instinctive protection meant something meaningful.
He let his head drop forward an inch; the only space left between the wall and Chi Cheng’s strong back. He let his nose rub in the centre of the black silk, a little imprint he could make immediately—
The world went sideways. There was flashing and soul-deep pain and spinning.
There was gunfire and blood spray, lurching forward and falling into the only arms that mattered.
In the seconds that were left, unsure of what had happened or what the outcome would be, Wu Suowei let his soul exist entirely in the hungry dark gaze of the man he was holding (or was Chi Cheng holding him?).
He wasn’t sure if it was himself who relaxed and let go of his muscle control, or perhaps it was Chi Cheng slumping.
Their faces fell to the ground together, bashing and swooping like the feeling of falling in a dreamscape.
Their lips landed close, eyes half slit but their souls still half anchored to their bodies. With all the strength and consciousness that he felt remaining in this breath, he exerted the tiniest of pressure to more squarely fit his mouth against Chi Cheng’s.
His eyes shut of their own accord, so he was unsure if Chi Cheng smiled on the occasion of their first kiss.