Work Text:
There were many things about Lu Guang that could be the source of envy. His calm demeanor. His naturally white hair. His model-pretty face. His quick thinking. Cheng Xiaoshi could go on, but then again, he could be biased.
There was one thing he was jealous of, though—Lu Guang’s ability to fall asleep literally anywhere.
Seriously, it was astonishing. Lu Guang could stay up for hours to read a book. He could accompany Cheng Xiaoshi in a dive during the dead of night, but wake up bright and early the next morning to open up shop.
But if he decided he wanted to sleep? He’d close his eyes, take a few slow breaths, and he was out like a light. Who knew how many times Lu Guang fell asleep when Cheng Xiaoshi was in a dive. And sometimes, when Cheng Xiaoshi peeked at the top bunk, he caught sight of Lu Guang’s sleeping face. Light snores escaped his slightly parted lips. His eyelashes fluttered minutely. His arms were raised so they were level with his head, like a baby.
Whenever Cheng Xiaoshi sneaked a peek, he was filled with embarrassment and cuteness aggression in equal measure.
On the other hand, sleep was difficult for Cheng Xiaoshi. Most nights, he could fall asleep thanks to exhaustion from work, class, dives, or any combination of the three. But there were nights when he lay in bed for hours as his mind worked non-stop to parse through memories. Childhood memories. Recent memories. Memories that weren’t even his own, but now inhabited a part of his brain and heart, even after he escaped the picture.
His sleep wasn’t always peaceful, either. It wasn’t that his dingy and old bunk bed was uncomfortable, because he’d long since gotten used to that. It wasn’t even because he didn’t like the dark, because knowing that Lu Guang was nearby gave him some comfort.
It was just that his subconscious didn’t always know he was safe. Once he fell into a deep sleep, the nightmares would kick in. He’d toss and turn in his sleep until he was woken up by his own trembling or Lu Guang’s nudging.
It made Cheng Xiaoshi feel guilty. Lu Guang was always the one who woke him up from bad dreams and never the other way around. Was he even prone to nightmares?
“Cheng Xiaoshi, can you pass the chips?”
Cheng Xiaoshi blinked. A female voice reminded him of where he was. Lu Guang had a cosplay photoshoot up a mountain yesterday, and they were being driven back to Guidu by the anime club president.
“Ah, here.” Cheng Xiaoshi passed an open bag of potato chips to the driver’s seat in front. For the first time since they left the mountains, he paid attention to the roads. Traffic was at a snail’s pace, even when the sun was just starting to rise. “Terrible jam, huh.”
“Oh, now you noticed!” the club president snickered. “Too busy looking at Guang Guang?”
“I wasn’t—” Cheng Xiaoshi started with a hiss. But he had enough self-awareness to shut his mouth. He had, in fact, spent the past hour watching Lu Guang sleep.
It wasn’t as weird as it sounded, he’d argue with anyone who wouldn’t immediately walk away with an eyeroll. Lu Guang was wrapped in a thick blanket, so that only his face and tufts of his fluffy hair remained visible, and it was the cutest sight in the world. Anyone would be tempted to look for hours. And besides, he was sleeping while facing the other way, so it wasn’t like Cheng Xiaoshi was staring intently at his face, even if he wanted to. He just had to be satisfied with the faint reflection from the car’s window. And, and, it wasn’t as if Cheng Xiaoshi was doing nothing but watching Lu Guang like a hawk. He checked his phone sometimes, ate a few chips, and… well, thought about Lu Guang while sneaking glances of the real thing next to him…
“You’re so smitten,” the club president chuckled, lightly hitting the gas again. Their car inched forward.
Cheng Xiaoshi pressed the heels of his palms to his eyes. “Can you not tell anyone…?”
“Sure!” the president replied easily. But just before Cheng Xiaoshi could sigh in relief, she added, “pretty much everyone knows, anyway.”
“What!” Cheng Xiaoshi glanced at Lu Guang, who didn’t move. He was wearing noise-cancelling earphones, and those earphones had better be damn good at their job, because Cheng Xiaoshi wanted to scream. “Who? And who said that? Is it Qiao Ling? I swear I—”
The club president laughed. “Nah, Qiao Ling only introduced you to us. To the club, I mean. As her brother, who’s a photographer.”
“Hmph, and she left said brother to go on vacation.” Qiao Ling was currently on an overseas holiday trip with Xu Shanshan, leaving Cheng Xiaoshi and Lu Guang to celebrate the winter holidays by themselves.
But he quickly forgot his ire and returned to topic. “Wait, so how did you find out?”
“Pretty obvious for anyone with eyes.”
“What’s that supposed to—”
“When you first saw him at the club, you were like, ‘What do you guys even see in him?’ But now you’re… well. Maybe I should take a picture. Oh, look how red you are.”
“Can you not…” Cheng Xiaoshi started, but at the sight of the president’s grin, he gave up. Instead, he asked meekly, “Is it that obvious?”
The president snorted, as if the question didn’t deserve an answer.
“Just so you know,” the president mused, “the second time I saw you in the club room, your expression’s changed.”
“That early?” Cheng Xiaoshi gaped.
“Oh, you’re so hopeless. Good luck.”
Cheng Xiaoshi huffed. The president sounded like she didn’t want to play relationship therapist anymore. Left with no one else to talk to, Cheng Xiaoshi leaned back, extending his right hand so his fingertips were lightly brushing against Lu Guang’s blanket-covered hair.
He looked like a cocoon from Cheng Xiaoshi’s point of view, but Cheng Xiaoshi’s eyes traced his outline, anyway. He’d seen Lu Guang’s back so often that not even the blanket could hinder the vision in his mind. He knew how Lu Guang’s hair rested just above his nape. He knew Lu Guang’s shoulders were slightly narrower than his own. He could pinpoint exactly where Lu Guang’s height reached him.
Come to think of it, maybe Cheng Xiaoshi was the same way.
Cheng Xiaoshi was always running hot. Even in winter, he rarely needed a blanket, so Lu Guang hogged most of it. But, if he followed Lu Guang’s advice for once and tried being metaphorical, then yes, wasn’t there a time when he was constantly wrapped in a blanket?
Like a child who hid under the covers so he didn’t have to see the dark, Cheng Xiaoshi cocooned himself in thick blankets that only a select few could enter. And when things got too heavy, when life was too unbearable, when the bullies were being extra mean, he’d just wrap himself up even tighter, turning his back against the world so nobody could see his tears.
For so many years, Qiao Ling was the only one he let into his cocoon. She would snuggle up next to him for as long as he needed, but the blanket remained.
Watching Lu Guang’s sleeping face from the reflection in the window, Cheng Xiaoshi realized that Lu Guang was different.
Lu Guang came into his life in a flurry of basketball matches and photographs. He, like Qiao Ling, snuggled into the blanket with Cheng Xiaoshi. But while Cheng Xiaoshi was relishing in the company, somehow Lu Guang had pulled the blanket loose.
He was exposed to the outside air, cold and menacing and unforgiving, but he didn’t feel like he needed to reach for a blanket. He didn’t need to wrap a cocoon of protection around himself anymore. He now radiated his own heat to keep himself warm, and the source was Lu Guang—light itself.
Cheng Xiaoshi smiled with softening eyes. He ran a fingertip along the edges of Lu Guang’s blanket. Watching Lu Guang from the reflection on the window, he noticed Lu Guang’s bangs had fallen to cover his eyes.
There was still a lot Cheng Xiaoshi didn’t know about Lu Guang’s past. Someday, he vowed, he would unwrap Lu Guang from his own cocoon of blankets, too. If Lu Guang would ever let him.
Cheng Xiaoshi was determined to make Lu Guang let him.
He reached out his hand to brush Lu Guang’s bangs away from his face…
“Cheng Xiaoshi, pass the chips again.”
“Dammit, president!”