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Xue Yang will never tell him.
There wasn’t a reality within which Xue Yang was dumb enough to blow up his marriage with such an unnecessary and stupid confession.
Nothing could change the past and an admission of guilt would only make the future bleak.
So Xue Yang would never tell him.
It was just that simple.
Except, it wasn’t.
Except, the truth sometimes just ate away at Xue Yang like a curse.
A distant memory of an infuriatingly kindly old man who had fucked with the wrong shoplifter. The way he’d held onto Xue Yang’s wrist with disapproval in his eyes and told Xue Yang to ‘put it back’.
In retrospect, it was such a small and stupid thing.
But Xue Yang had been young and angry and there was something that made him itch about being spoken down to in his mother tongue, just like everyone used to, and it was just so fucking infuriating.
A candy bar.
Song Lan’s beloved grandfather had been murdered over a fucking candy bar.
How much would Song Lan despise him if he learned just how truly pathetic it was?
How Xue Yang stalked the old man after they both left the grocery store, how he found a nice spot where no one would notice or care and then beat the life out of him, how he stole the old man’s wallet purely to wave it in his face. Cackling about how he was going to go back to the grocery store, steal the candy bar, and then spend the cash on something obscene.
The old man only stuck out in his memory because of how strongly he’d been reminded of everyone he’d escaped when he first got pulled off the streets.
The old man had managed to make him feel small and worthless, the same miserable helpless feeling he thought he’d escaped, and he just lashed out.
It wasn’t the first or only person Xue Yang had killed as a teen in petulant anger. It was just the one who happened to stick out in his memory the most.
Xue Yang had hated that old man and felt so utterly vindicated at beating the life out of his eyes.
In the wallet that Xue Yang had stolen, there was a photograph of his grandson. Xue Yang carelessly tossed the meaningless picture into the trash.
How much easier would it be for Song Lan to cope with if Xue Yang had done it under orders? My evil ex-bosses made me do it! I was nothing but an abused teenager with no other choice! It was him or me!
In truth, if Song Lan ever did figure it out, it would be easy enough to lie just like that. It wasn’t like Song Lan would ever meet Meng Yao or any of the other scummy crimelords Xue Yang had worked for. He could so easily make a justification for it to. Something about being desperate for the cash because he got screwed over in a deal and he needed money quickly. He tried to rob the old man harmlessly, but the old man fought back!
Unfortunately, despite it all Xue Yang wasn’t much of a liar.
His toxic trait was being too honest. And he didn’t want to lie to Song Lan about it either.
It wasn’t like that lie would save his marriage either, if it ever came to light, he knew Song Lan well enough to know that he’d never be able to forgive Xue Yang’s hands being bloodied with his grandfather’s life, regardless of the circumstances.
Worst of all, Song Lan wouldn’t be able to stop loving him either.
That was ultimately what wound up staying Xue Yang’s tongue, on the nights when he felt too self-destructive to keep it to himself and needed the Damocles sword to drop down and cleave him in two.
Maybe he could have, in the early stages of their relationship when Song Lan still seemed like a bit of a mystery to him. The love seemed so very fragile and strange, an incomprehensible emotion to direct at Xue Yang. Something that was surely a lie or a misunderstanding or bound to break on its own.
But now Xue Yang knew him. Knew Song Lan’s stupid pathetic stubborn heart.
Song Lan’s love was hardly a fragile thing. It was something that Song Lan felt and held onto with such a relentless intensity that it was sometimes a bit scary. Not in how Song Lan expressed it, but just the knowledge that it was such a strong emotion.
Xue Yang couldn’t claim his own feelings paled in comparison, hardly, Song Lan truly had no idea the depraved depths that Xue Yang’s obsession reached, but there was something truly intimidating about the unshakable fidelity of Song Lan’s love.
And something so very heartbreaking about the idea of Song Lan enduring the agony of knowing what the man he loved so deeply had done.
Sometimes, when Xue Yang felt crazy and itchy out of his skin, he wanted to hurt Song Lan like that. Not for any real reason, perhaps for the same insane reason he’d killed that damn old man in the first place, but simply to do it and watch the world burn.
But the moment he truly imagined the despair in Song Lan’s eyes, he couldn’t do it.
Five years of marriage and they were so fucking happy, and Xue Yang couldn’t hurt him like that. The idea of cracking Song Lan’s heart in two like that made Xue Yang’s own heart break.
So there was certainly no power strong enough to make Xue Yang admit to his crime. And no possible reason that it should ever come to light. No witnesses or evidence, the wallet was long since tossed aside with a variety of other stolen wallets, the cash was spent, and Xue Yang having to restart his entire life so many times had robbed him of all possessions but the bare necessities at least five times over before he’d ever even met Song Lan.
And yet it haunted him.
Xue Yang had never truly known what regret felt like before.
He’d felt something similar on occasion. The night he’d chosen to betray Meng Yao to save Meng Rusong’s life, he’d felt a bit insane. He didn’t owe anything to the brat and he did owe quite a bit to his Yao-ge. Choosing Rusong’s life over what might have been loyalty toward his boss had felt insane.
The bumfuckery that followed definitely made him second guess the decision as well. But he hadn’t really regretted it. He certainly hadn’t felt guilty about it. He’d just reflected that it had been a stupid move to make, all things considered.
Though ultimately, he found that if he were to relive the same situation over and over again, he would probably still choose that same dumb decision remorselessly.
Xue Yang couldn’t say he felt the same about Song Lan’s grandpa.
A part of him wanted nothing more than to go back in time just to beat himself half to death for even thinking about doing it.
Regret, remorse, guilt… the unfamiliar and unpleasant trifecta of emotion that made Xue Yang insane with an itchy hatred.
He did hate Song Lan’s grandfather on most days. He probably would forever.
Why’d you have to stop me? If you’d just known to mind your own fucking business, you’d still be alive! This is all your own fucking fault, you damn idiot!
But of course there wasn’t a world where Song Lan’s grandfather wouldn’t stop him. This was the man who raised Song Lan into being the same type of inflexibly moral and so pathetically uptight.
Raised Song Lan into being the man that Xue Yang loved and loved and loved.
It drove Xue Yang insane.
Now, he brushed a hair away from Song Lan’s forehead as his stupid husband slept peacefully on the eve of another deathiversary.
Despite how soft Song Lan’s expression was in sleep, when he woke up, he would be sad. And he was liable to be sad every single fucking year on this day for the rest of their lives.
Xue Yang kissed his forehead gently as his heart clenched in miserable acceptance to reality.
It would have been better if Song Lan’s grandpa lived. If Xue Yang showed up in his life and had to deal with some stupid old in-law who nagged and interfered and disapproved of his little baby Lanlan dating something obscene like Xue Yang.
It would have been better if he met Song Lan when he was less broken and harder to seduce. A confident man who had enough love and support to know his own value and to know that Xue Yang was unworthy of his time and attention.
It would have been better if Xue Yang was a good enough person not to cling to Song Lan like this after realizing the truth. To hold onto him forever regardless of how vile the lie.
Even if Xue Yang never would have been able to worm his way into Song Lan’s life, it would have been better.
And yet, it was just too late for any of that.
Even if Xue Yang was a good enough person to walk away, which he certainly wasn’t, he would cling and claim Song Lan no matter the cost and regardless of Song Lan’s consent, that wouldn’t actually do any good now.
Song Lan loved Xue Yang now. Just as deeply as he’d loved his grandfather. If Xue Yang left him, it wouldn’t fix anything, just carve another hole into his heart.
There was sometimes something satisfying about that thought. Making Song Lan love him for an eternity just like that. Pathetic and sad and longing.
The appeal was always drowned out by the thought of Song Lan’s smile. A radiant little thing, precious and rare and perfect, and entirely intoxicating. Xue Yang was firmly of the opinion of destroying anything that might damage that precious smile.
Song Lan stirred, just a bit, and cracked open a sleep eye at Xue Yang. “Can’t sleep?” He asked groggily.
Xue Yang leaned down and kissed him, softly and sweetly. Every bitter emotion of need and pain and a regret that he could never fully do anything about pouring into the connection.
Song Lan hugged him, because of course he did. Because he noticed that his husband was upset and wanted to comfort him.
Xue Yang wanted to scream.
How pathetic was it that Song Lan comforted him over the regret of murdering his grandfather, without ever even fucking knowing.
It was the moments like these where it was the hardest not to tell him.
Despite it all, it would be the ‘right’ thing to do. And wasn’t that what Song Lan was all about? Doing the ‘right’ thing?
Wasn’t it only fair that he knew he was hugging his grandfather’s murderer?
“Nightmare?” Song Lan asked, gently brushing his fingers through Xue Yang’s hair. He still sounded half-awake. He probably didn’t even realize the date quite yet, as half-asleep as he was.
Xue Yang shook his head. “Thinking about shit.”
Song Lan nodded in understanding. He never pressed for more. He was curious, Xue Yang knew that much, but he was infuriatingly considerate about it all.
He knew that Xue Yang had been a ‘victim’ and that much was enough for him to tread so carefully and kindly that it sometimes made Xue Yang sick.
“I don’t like… some of the shit I’ve done.” Xue Yang finally said into the silence, unsure if Song Lan had fallen back asleep. “Some of it was just… fucking stupid.”
Song Lan hummed in acknowledgement. “You making stupid decisions doesn’t sound unfamiliar.”
Xue Yang kicked him under the blankets. There was no real force to it so Song Lan chuckled instead of winced. Xue Yang kissed him again, slow and patient until Song Lan was pushing him down against the mattress and exploring his mouth more thoroughly.
Song Lan knew he preferred levity in moments like this. Touch and reassurance. He knew that he hated it when Song Lan said sympathetic things meant to absolve him of guilt. He knew that Xue Yang liked it best when he could feel that Song Lan knew him, the good and the bad, and still wanted him. Just as he was.
It was a pathetic thing to cling to Song Lan’s comfort under these circumstances.
Xue Yang pushed up at Song Lan’s chest, just enough to break the kiss.
And there was his beautiful husband, looking down at him with sleepy yet affectionate eyes. Obediently pulling away and searching Xue Yang’s face for what he needed.
“You’d hate me for some of the shit I’ve done.” Xue Yang couldn’t help but say. “You’d hate me so much that you’d want to kill me.”
Song Lan’s gaze softened and it made Xue Yang want to scream. “I know.” Song Lan said, his voice grave and quiet.
Xue Yang closed his eyes, unable to maintain eye-contact when he knew they were talking about two different things. Song Lan was obviously referring to his own inflexibility and trauma. He just didn’t, and couldn’t, understand how much more personal it truly was.
“You don’t know and that’s the fucking point.” Xue Yang grit out.
“You hate that you did it, don’t you?” Song Lan sounded curious in a way that was new and Xue Yang’s eyes shot open at the phrasing. His heart throbbing horribly in his chest at the mere thought that Song Lan was talking about that one specific crime.
Song Lan’s gaze was so steady and intense that Xue Yang couldn’t be anything but honest.
“...yes.”
“You’d take it back if you could?” Song Lan asked again, still in that curious tone that demanded an answer.
Xue Yang hated to admit that, even to himself, but under his husband’s steady gaze, he couldn’t offer anything up but the truth.
Five years of marriage and nine total years together and Xue Yang had truly lost his ability to deny Song Lan anything.
“Yes.”
Song Lan kissed him, it was barely a kiss even, just a graze of their lips that caused Xue Yang’s heart to flutter. A simple I love you spoken in actions.
Song Lan was smiling that precious smile when he pulled away and Xue Yang wanted to eat him whole. To have all of him inside and never let him go.
“This is going to sound mean.” Song Lan said, a touch sheepishly. “But I’m really happy you regret it.”
Song Lan rested his forehead against Xue Yang’s. A simple grounding gesture that let Xue Yang focus on the touch between them. “Why’s that?” Xue Yang asked, still alarmed that Song Lan’s phrasing could mean anything. He knew it couldn’t mean that Song Lan knew, because there was no grief in his eyes. But the paranoia and fear filled him that he’d somehow tipped Song Lan off with the timing of all of this.
“I didn’t think you would.” Song Lan said, honest as ever. “I love you, a-Yang. But sometimes it hurts knowing how you hurt people and feel nothing about it.”
Ah. It would be bad to tell Song Lan that he still didn’t really feel guilty about the vast majority of crap he’d done. If that old man had been someone else’s grandpa, Xue Yang probably would have never felt a glimmer of remorse over it.
“I’m still that person.” Xue Yang said crossly, because it was all too much.
“I know.” Song Lan kissed him again. “But you’re different too.”
That was fair enough. Xue Yang could admit that he’d changed, one way or the other, over the time spent together. That he’d changed even before he met Song Lan.
It really was a good thing that they hadn’t met when Xue Yang was still so young and volatile. His body might have been left alongside his grandfathers for just saying the wrong thing.
That thought cascaded pain through Xue Yang’s chest and he clung to Song Lan in desperation.
It was just too easy to imagine.
Song Lan’s forgotten corpse, rotting for years while Xue Yang left. Cackling the entire way without any idea of who he’d just snuffed out. Not a single idea just how valuable this man was or how much Xue Yang needed him like he needed air.
Maybe that was enough of a reason to regret it all.
A selfish reason that suited him.
With just how many people he’d carelessly killed, how many of them might have been someone that Xue Yang could have loved and valued?
Xue Yang’s current life was full of people he liked and wanted to keep. Any of those people left to rot because of one careless stabbing was also miserable to consider.
Murder was satisfying, but only in a momentary way that didn’t really give him any longterm joy.
The difference between stealing some candy and learning to bake.
He liked them both, but one provided him with more ongoing joy.
“Yeah, okay, I regret that shit.” Xue Yang growled out, holding onto Song Lan like he might disappear if he let go. “Happy, asshole?”
Song Lan let his weight drape comfortably over Xue Yang, holding him securely to his chest and making him feel real again.
“Yes.” Song Lan said, because the bitch was always so fucking honest.
Xue Yang would never get the satisfaction of that same honesty. Not if he treasured Song Lan’s happiness, and he did so fucking much he could scream. It was better like this, a lie tucked away for an eternity.
And maybe this was all that old man’s revenge against him. Living inside of him and stabbing his heart with the knowledge, a punishment for a stupid crime that he could never undo.
And he’d endure every single stab without a damn word ever escaping his lips because he couldn’t take away Song Lan’s happiness.
Maybe even that fucking obnoxious old man would agree with him that ultimately, Song Lan’s happiness was something he could never jeopardize.
So he’d never tell him.