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Heathcliff doesn’t fall in love easily. Doesn’t let people in, and thaws like a glacier, taking its time. He falls in love gradually, not even knowing it’s happening. And by the time he catches on, he’s shit out of luck because- he falls hard and he falls deep, and he knows that it’ll drive him near mad. And he can’t do a damn near thing about it.
After all, he’s never been overly fond of the idea of people. And people have never been overly fond of the idea of him.
Especially because…
It would degrade me to marry Heathcliff now.
The words had echoed in Heathcliff’s mind when he spent his last Ahn on leaving District 20 behind. Before T Corp could trap him in some timeless contract, before he could grow tired of the sepia-toned streets.
They rang in his ears when he left the Dead Rabbits after a couple weeks, too caught up in his own thoughts, and too tired of the looming figure of the Earnshaw Manor over the hill above him.
Too tired of the thoughts of Hindley, Linton, Cathy, Cathy, Cathy.
He thought he’d spend the rest of his life proving those words wrong. Or he’d die trying.
All he needed was a job to throw himself into, to crawl out of the poverty that clung to him no matter how hard he tried to leave it behind. Because he realized it was time to leave this old, worthless self of him behind, the one that wasn’t good enough for anyone. The one who’d stayed because Cathy had made him feel that he’d meant something to someone. Made all the abuse and insults feel tolerable. If only because of Cathy. Because if he wasn’t some abandoned useless garbage to her, then maybe the words of the others were just words. Instead of everything that made up who he really was.
The memories of these streets used to be a faint recollection in his mind. In those years when he grew up in Wuthering Heights, he didn’t have to think about the next time he’d be able to eat, the next time he’d be able to take a shower, the next time he’d have to suffer for a damn sip of water…
The dazed dreams of hunger and thirst and childhood fell over him, like the only glove that’d really fit him in the end. Back in the old days… he’d beg for coin, for a crumb of food. And he hadn’t known anything else, hadn’t known there was any other way to live.
Guess things had never really changed, after all.
Heathcliff wandered the Backstreets for the lowest tasks that a person could take. Jobs too small, too dirty for the worst Fixer Office. Paying nothing and indistinguishable from the work of some Finger lackey. Heathcliff didn’t have the skills or the money to even consider becoming licensed, so it was the only thing he was going to get.
He wasn’t worth enough to belong to some Office. Living his way as nothing more than just… some hired thug. Or the extra meat that they ordered when someone needed another body in a fight. But it was temporary. It was his way up in the world.
So he jumped at the opportunity when some no-name Fixer Office took notice of him. Used him for their dirty work and withheld his pay at the end. Another Office contacted him after, and fell apart when their rep was taken out by a Syndicate before they could even finish their task. More than a few Grade 9 Fixers made a show at considering him for recruitment afterwards, only to put out bounties on his head when they’d finished profiting off his labor.
He started to get it. He started to understand Cathy’s words, and what Hindley couldn’t beat into him after a decade. Heathcliff was finally learning it all on his own.
Heathcliff’s life followed a steady meandering loop of fate. A loop that closed in on itself until he knew his place in the world. Fate was funny like that. Building him up and tossing him down. Born at the bottom, and coming back down for the end.
Looking back, he’d never even realized… when it all started again.
He was a Fixer with a long tailored coat, a gun and serrated knife strapped to his sides. Looking down at Heathcliff as if from a million miles above. The kind of man that might look offended just to breathe the same air as Heathciff. But when he opened his mouth, his voice was nothing but a high, cheerful tone.
“Ohhhh… you don’t even have a license? And they’re putting you on this sort of job?”
The man smiled like the situation was the funniest thing, closing his eyes until they crinkled at the corners. “Isn’t that illegal? I know Shi Association jobs are as dirty as they come, but… couldn’t even afford that at least?”
He tapped his chin with his finger. “Say, I don’t usually take this sort of job. But I heard this guy’s pretty bad news.” He gave a considering hum. “And I just opened up my own Office here.”
He turned to Heathcliff to give him a once over. His eyes seemed uneven, and Heathcliff didn’t realize why until their gaze settled on his face to stop. The left one shone a bright blue-green against the dark brown of the right. It was striking, like a polished jewel set into the center of his face. It was enough to stun Heathcliff into a shocked silence. He knew expensive when he saw it.
If it was possible, the stranger’s grin grew even wider.
“Howsabout we finish this one together? If you’re any good, maybe I’ll just have to go and sponsor you myself.”
His name was Hong Lu. He owned the Full-Stop Office.
He was wealthy. So wealthy that Heathcliff couldn’t wrap his head around it.
And he smiled so easily, like someone who’d never had to face an ounce of trouble in his life. Heathcliff knew money, even if he’d never known what it was like to own a piece of it. He knew the way it lifted people, above and away from the dregs at the bottom. Gave them that glitter to their clothes, a cold, untouchable, regal ease and confidence to their gaze. He’d seen it in Linton, in Cathy, in Mr. Earnshaw. Heck, even Hindley. Showing in his face even when the taller boy stared down at Heathcliff and ground his forehead into the pavement.
Hong Lu hired him. Funded his way through the Fixer Licensing exam. Bought him a firearm when he’d never even seen one in his life, and told him he’d be learning how to use it.
He was Hong Lu’s first agent. But it wasn’t long before he added another. Some young blonde toff who screamed at everything, but still knew his way around a rifle well enough to keep. The boss and him seemed to understand each other a bit better, and Sinclair’d come right and proper about it, paying his own all the way through.
Take a mission. Shoot down the target. Get their pay- buy whatever bullets they needed replenished if he or Sinclair went overboard. Polish off his guns, with all the maintenance the flunky bits needed.
It was simple enough that even Heathcliff could handle it. Even though his boss had the annoying habit of threatening their monthly pay for every wasted bullet, that was the most bothersome part of it.
But Heathcliff knew that when something was too good to be true, it only meant he hadn’t gotten to the bad part yet. Hong Lu acted like nothing bothered him, like nothing could shake the smile from his face. But Heathcliff knew the type- they were usually the worst when they finally boiled over and exploded.
It only meant that Heathcliff would have to be more careful, since he probably wouldn't get any notice until he was getting booted out the door, or worse. A few years of keeping his head down, keeping a grip on his anger, and maybe it’d be enough to be worth something in the end. He didn’t need to know anything more about the boss, didn’t need to see the ugly side he was surely keeping inside.
Too bad Heathcliff had never been known as someone with an excellent sense of self-control. The easy times put him on edge. Heathcliff kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. Waiting for that final straw to tip the boss over, so Heathcliff could see him for who he really was behind that unwavering smile. It was like seeing Hindley in a good mood. It turned Heathcliff to a jittery mess, if only because he knew the next punch was going to feel that much worse when he wasn’t expecting it.
“Do I remind you of someone, Heathcliff?” Hong Lu asked him once, with such an innocently concerned smile. “Someone… that you don’t like very much?”
Heathcliff didn’t know what to say. But he did know what he probably should say. He wasn’t overly fond of the idea of going back to the streets with nothing. Especially in a district he hardly knew anything about.
“No.” Heathcliff said, almost mumbling it out. “Not really. But even if you did, it probably wouldn’t matter anything, would it?”
Sometimes bosses asked questions like this. Just so they could feel in charge.
“Maybe it matters. But I think that’s up to you~” Hong Lu inquired. Like he wasn’t satisfied enough with that. Heathcliff wasn’t the sort to grovel. But that wasn’t to say he didn’t know how.
Heathcliff steeled himself. He’d been lucky to this point. There was always an out if it got too bad.
“Sorry.” He bit the soft inner part of his lip. “Not trying to piss you off. It’s not going to cause any trouble. Not going to cause any problems.”
But Hong Lu wouldn’t give it up. He wheedled him a bit more. “...Are you really sure, Heathcliff?”
Heathcliff started to think this wasn’t really about what he thought at all. Maybe- Hong Lu was growing tired of seeing Heathcliff’s old mug. Maybe Heathcliff’s same old glower was an eyesore.
Hong Lu wasn’t Hindley’s brash, violent sort of disdain. But maybe he was Linton’s. Cold, polite, but hating him all the same. Or maybe even Cathy’s, pretending to like him, pretending to care, pretending that the words they shared had actually meant something-
Games, huh. Heathcliff was never any good at playing them.
“Hey bossman- do you really give a damn what I care about anything?” Heathcliff’s hand curled at his side, and he looked at the floor. “Point me where to shoot. Tell me what to do. I’ll do it. That’s all you hired a backstreet brute like me for, right?”
“Don’t use too many bullets.” He grit his teeth. “Each one is worth my life a hundred times over. I don’t need any remindin’ of that.”
He looked up at Hong Lu’s silence. To his surprise, dripping like something ice cold down his back, the man wasn’t smiling.
Hong Lu’s lips were set in a steady line. After a moment, he lifted the corner, as if attempting for a hollow imitation of his normal, cordial grin.
“Heathcliff…” He started.
Heathcliff’s eyes widened. “S-Sorry.” Would he ever stop spouting off and ruining things? He swallowed past his dry mouth, swallowed down his ridiculous pride.
“Didn’t mean to run my mouth. Look. We’ve got a good thing running here. I appreciate you taking a poor old sod like me off the streets. If you don’t like the way I’m lookin’ at you. Then…”
“I’ll look somewhere else, yeah? You want me to look at the ground?” Heathcliff felt his vision shaking. But what of it? “Yeah. I’ll look at the ground.”
It didn’t matter what some clueless rich bloke thought of him. Especially when he seemed easy enough to get along with, a hundred times easier than dealing with Hindley or even Linton. He’d play his game, not step on any toes. He’d keep his mouth shut and take the money he got. Until he had enough. Enough to become the sort of respectable man Cathy was looking for.
It would degrade me to-
Heathcliff clamped down on the memory. He really didn’t need to think about it now.
There was an awkward silence that Heathcliff did his best to avoid filling with Catherine’s voice. He only half succeeded, when Hong Lu’s voice finally made any further effort moot.
“Hey… look up~”
Hong Lu said, in that old, almost irritatingly cheerful tone. But when Heathcliff followed as he said, Hong Lu’s face was still stuck in some strange half smile.
His gaze slid to the side, that jade eye catching the room’s light. He spoke, half to himself. “Did I make too many jokes? Did I really make you think those bullets meant anything more than you? Sure… I can’t go through them like candy, but if we stay alive and the target’s done, then they don’t mean anything big to me~”
And like nothing, that placid, happy smile was back in place, the corners of his closed eyes crinkling with it. Heathcliff had seen the man grin when the spray of blood filled the air, when the battlefield was filled with the ring of countless gunshots. And somehow, that grin seemed even more out of place now than ever.
“Maybe… ah. Maybe it would help if I had said first.” Hong Lu’s voice was quiet. Like a mutter or a mumble.
“Do you know what H corp is like, Heathcliff?”
“I grew up in a city known as Hongyuan.” He smiled just at the mere mention of the name. “A looming building, bigger than anything I’ve ever seen. With more streets than anyone could ever hope to map.”
He looked at Heathcliff from the side. “Especially when they change every Restructuring Day. Twisting and turning… always becoming something entirely new. It happened every so often. In Hongyuan, your wealth is tied to the space the district gives you. And my home, Daguanyuan, has only ever grown. Taking and taking, like a mouth that can’t help but swallow up everything around it. Even as those who have nothing- fall through the ground.”
“I’ve always gotten to see the faces of those at the very end. They have nothing to hold onto. You can reach out, try to catch them. Yet… you can’t help someone who’s already dead.” Hong Lu says. It’s missing his trademark cheer, and that’s enough to make it sound off.
“But if you saw someone about to fall, someone who had that look of knowing that the ground is about to disappear under their feet. When do you think is to late to reach them? Is it pointless to put your hand out, when it only hangs uselessly in the air…”
“And accept that your role is to watch it all with only a smile on your face?”
“What…” Heathcliff could have stood there for an hour, and not known what to say. “What is this all about?”
Hong Lu looked surprised, but then drew back like he’d been chastised. His voice tone returned to something light and airy. “Sorry. I usually know better than to talk on silly, useless things. It’s not like what I say or do has much meaning.”
“So maybe what I really only meant to say is… I can tell you’re doing very well, Heathcliff. You’re getting better with your aim too. So I hope you don’t feel too badly about yourself. Even as the hard times and good times come and go, I hope we can keep up the good work together~”
They had an office. They had clients. He had a seat. Enough money to eat, to sleep in a proper room and bed. He was still killing, but Hong Lu liked to pick for the ones who really ‘deserved’ it. And he didn’t have to feel their blood on his hands, didn’t have to see the light leave their eyes. It was the press of a trigger and the shot of a bullet from hundreds of yards away.
It was easy. It was everything Heathcliff could have asked for.
They rode together after missions in some motor Heathcliff wouldn’t have imagined himself in in a hundred years. Just him and Hong Lu, because Sinclair had enough dough that he didn’t have to spot rides from the boss.
But Heathcliff clearly didn’t. He couldn’t even afford the kinds of suits that fit the Office attire. When Hong Lu asked his measurements and Heathcliff couldn’t even pull them out of his arse, Hong Lu gave him the day and sent him down to the Nest with a stack of spare bills to cover the cost.
They always got to the Office late at night. Hong Lu tried sometimes to make small talk on the way there, and Heathcliff would answer in the most pleasant, natural way he could. Which usually fizzled to nothing, if only because Hong Lu knew nothing of his world, and Heathcliff knew nothing of Hong Lu’s. And also because it seemed like Heathcliff only really knew how to be an unpleasant bugger at the best of times.
Filing away any checks. Stowing away the paperwork for the morning. Getting the keys to lock the Office doors at the end. Hong Lu already had them in hand when Heathcliff got to him, and he was stalling. For whatever reason.
“Ah. Look at the time. It’s already tomorrow, isn’t it?” Hong Lu pondered.
“Good night, Heathcliff.” He looked over at him with a smile and a quiet laugh. “Or is it good morning? See you tomorrow. Or see you later then?”
Musing over pleasantries. It must come with the easy life. For a moment, Heathcliff felt an ache to be in a world as simple as that.
He still didn’t know what to say to the man. Thanks for picking me out of the dirt and taking a chance on me, of all people? But instead, all Heathcliff knew how to say was-
“Right. Sleep well then. Boss.” Because Heathcliff’s smile was a right mess, and his words would always be stilted, even in this.
But the boss would always seem an odd sort. Looking at Heathcliff like the words had made him happy. Smiling when a bloke like Heathcliff wished him well. It made Heathcliff’s chest twist tight. Like it wasn’t supposed to happen this way, and it was painful just for that.
Someone so well off, working in this Backstreets Office. Barely turning a profit and hardly caring about the fact. As if he was floating apart from the world, and needed nothing from it. And as if he knew- that nothing really needed him either. Like he might let it all go, for no reason at all. It was strange. It was distant. It seemed almost… lonesome.
But treating Heathcliff like a person, on top of that. Just for doing the job.
He’d never really get used to it.
One day, instead of walking into a list of names, targets to cross off their list-
Heathcliff saw a laundry list of errands. Securely deliver a load of packages across the Nest, clean up trash on the South District side, escort a newcomer to the Nest Center. The kind of errands that no one took because no one in the Backstreets had the stature, and because they paid peanuts to any Office worth their salt.
“What the hell-” Heathcliff started, before a light hand settled on his shoulder. Hong Lu, smiling like it was the most normal thing in the world.
And then they were riding around the City like a bunch of unemployed blokes. Sinclair was there this time. Good for it too, with the kid looking like he hadn’t gotten a solid night of sleep in days.
He was half dozing in the car seat, and the rest of them stayed mostly quiet because of it. The lad woke up in a rush whenever they had to do anything: loading packages like his life depended on it, nervously chatting up their client on their way through the Nest security, picking up garbage and an unidentified pile of vaguely human looking parts with a face like he was about to cry.
“Maybe that last job wasn’t so great.” Hong Lu commented afterwards. They’d been working from dusk to dawn, and they had to change after the bloody mess of the third job. But the rest of the day passed slower. And Heathcliff had never seen Sinclair as happy as when he had to climb on Heathcliff’s shoulders to rescue a goddamn cat from a tree.
Maybe it was just the exhaustion at the end, or the fact that Sinclair looked less like he was shaking to pieces when night time came around. But riding back on the way from it all, Sinclair spoke to them like he was making a grand declaration of his failures for all to hear.
“Sorry Boss, Mr. Heathcliff… I know I haven’t been pulling my weight recently. So I’ll do better I promise…”
“But I had fun today b-boss…” And maybe some tears finally did escape his eyes this time, because he wiped at his face before he continued. “Because even though this is the best Office I’ve ever worked in…”
“When I signed up to be a Fixer, in a way, I kind of thought this would be the sort of work I’d be doing. Helping people… making their lives better…”
He sighed, and his face settled on something unsettlingly flat. “But don’t worry. Because- I know better than that now.”
It was a little sad. The lad looked young enough that his rich parents should have been packing home cooked lunches for him with little handwritten notes on the side.
Even though, whenever the topic of family came up, Sinclair would start to breathe a different way, get a wet look to his eyes, and stutter ten times worse than usual. Heathcliff knew better than to pry.
But yeah, maybe it was nice to see the kid happy for once. Of course, it wouldn’t last. For all of his worst breakdowns, the kid was good with a gun. Not even just the skill, but the hollow-eyed focus he got when they got into things. Like that teary-eyed kid just fell away. And in a place like the City, eventually that would be the only part of him that would stick around.
After a few days of work like that, Heathcliff had to ask.
“Say, boss. Aren’t we running in the red right now? Are you going to keep taking jobs like this?”
Hong Lu indulged him with a private sort of smile. “Hmm… I don’t think so. It’s fun for a while, even though our business might just go underwater~”
“But maybe Sinclair needed it after the last time, hmm?” Their most recent mission had Sinclair injured from his firing spot. One of the rare times, bad enough that they’d needed to use an ampule to patch the wound. Not that the boss had ever taken any break after the many times Hong Lu needed an ampule of his own.
But maybe Hong Lu had a soft spot for kids. Hong Lu looked wistfully forward. “It’s nice to see him so carefree.”
And maybe Heathcliff was getting used to the idea that he didn’t need to watch his back for the next yelling match, or beating, or broken Office contract and flunky, two-faced Fixers. Maybe he didn’t need to watch every word. Maybe the boss was just a bit of a loon, and Heathcliff was better off for it.
Because all he could do was shake his head and respond. “Boss, you might be the weirdest rich bloke I’ve ever met.”
He sighed, and talked under his breath. He looked away as if he was saying something embarrassing. “But, bloody hell, I can’t say it isn’t a nice change.”
It was usually in the lull between missions. On the rides back to their Office base, watching the Nest’s street lights pass them by.
“That technique reminded me of the first time my eldest brother tried to kill me. Ah, I can’t believe it almost got me again!”
Sometimes, Heathcliff used to think that Hong Lu used to make up stories just to see what reaction he could get. It fit the calm image of him, holding back his reaction just to see what faces he could get others to make. He was a real gadfly like that, a real pain in the neck.
Who would believe that some rich kid like him lived through enough terror and enough death to compete with the worst of the Backstreets? Who’d believe that Hong Lu would talk about it with the same tone he used to mull over their next meal?
Well. Hong Lu was different like that.
Heathcliff leaned back in the plush seat of the car speeding down the road. “How’d they get you that time, then?”
Hong Lu paused, mouth a bit open. Like he was considering if he wanted to really answer the question. He gave him a smile that seemed almost nervous, before looking into some remembered space. “It was only just after visiting my grandmother.”
“I was walking back home as the sun was setting- the arrow came right from the point where its blinding light shone on the horizon.” He grinned, eyes crinkling. “But the road was a bit uneven there, and I tripped a half-step. It missed my heart, and only buried itself in my shoulder. So even if poison was fast-acting, I had just enough time after I fell on the ground for my attendants to rush forward and find an antidote before it got to my brain.”
He pointed to an empty spot on his upper arm. “And the medicine didn’t even leave a scar behind! You’d never even know it happened.”
“Sometimes luck is just on your side~” Hong Lu said with satisfaction. “But my brother wasn’t very happy the next time I saw him. He must have put a lot of effort into it.”
Heathcliff saw the scene play out in his mind. He thought of a younger, smaller Hong Lu falling to the ground, near death and in excruciating pain. And as much as he wished it was just an imaginary fantasy, he’d come to know the man well enough by now.
“That sounds terrifying as all hell.” Heathcliff said, with all the seriousness Hong Lu wouldn’t express. “Sorry you went through it, boss.”
But then he gave a coarse grin. “Your brother’s a barmy sack of shite. You should let me at him if I ever get the chance to see his smarmy face.
Hong Lu smiled, but it seemed a bit put on. “Don’t blame him, Heathcliff. He has his reasons to resent me, you see…”
“Let me sock him. Just once, boss. I’ll even pay you for it.”
Hong Lu looked to the side. It looked like he was biting down a response, and he quickly changed topics. But right then, even Hong Lu wasn’t skilled enough to keep the amusement out of his eyes at the thought.
“My family hated me too.”
“Can’t say I had it as rough as you did. But damn. It was a bit rubbish.” Maybe Hong Lu was infecting him a bit. To talk about his folks easily, lackadaisically, like a chat about the weather. He didn’t think he’d be able to say it to others, but in a way, he felt like the boss could have understood him.
To think he first thought the man was just another rich bloke. Another Linton, another Hindley that didn’t know anything but ordering around maids and treating Heathcliff like a dog. Lived with that silver spoon in his mouth, and never faced a struggle in a day of his life.
But maybe every rich family was crazy. Maybe the richer they were the crazier they got. Hong Lu’s siblings didn’t sound like the most stand-out characters out there. They sounded worse than Heathcliff’s adopted household. Thinking of it, they’d probably treat Heathcliff like vermin if they ever met him. The only reason this felt different, was-
Well. Hong Lu was different.
Hong Lu looked at him now. Like he already knew a piece of what he was talking about. His usual smile turned soft, sympathetic, and sweet. Heathcliff was sure only half of it was real, but. Even that half was more than he would have asked for.
“Every day. Treating me like a piece of garbage. Beating me when they didn’t think the words were getting to me enough.” His gaze darkened. “They couldn’t stand to look at me when I was in the room, like just the sight was enough to lower them. Like it was such a charity to take me in like a stray dog, and expect me to beg for scraps.”
“They sound like terrible people.” Hong Lu said, like it was the simplest thing in the world. Like it was so easy for him to take Heathcliff’s side and denounce them too.
Heathcliff stumbled over his words. “Well. They weren’t all the same…”
“Mr. Earnshaw, the man who took me in. He was a stand-up guy. Maybe a bit of an aloof father, but he never really looked down on me. He was alright. And-”
“...And Cathy. She looked down at me at first. But with time.” His voice was hollow. The car’s distant rumble was the only thing in his ears. “She started to treat me like her best friend. Like she saw me as a person. Told me everything.”
Hong Lu smiled, like he’d finally put together a puzzle he’d been working at for a long time. “I see.”
And if Heathcliff didn’t know him better, he’d almost have thought that his face dropped a little. Like something about it disappointed Hong Lu. Maybe it did- maybe Heathcliff’s life story was nothing worth driving home about.
“So she’s the one that you’ve been doing this all for.” Hong Lu said with a gentle voice. Like the words were something delicate.
Yes. Heathcliff would say. I love her. I’ll make her see what she didn’t choose. Why she was wrong…
It echoed in his mind like an old song and dance.
But when it slipped out of his lips, it only came out in a half-hearted, partial way. “Y-yes. Well, part of it, anyway.”
“I want to show up those bastards too, the pricks that thought they were so much better than me. See their faces when I walk in like the guy they always said I’d never be.” He grinned at the thought. Blowing his money in their faces. Heck, they’d probably even be shocked to see him stroll in with this suit and gun on his back. But that wasn’t quite good enough yet, so…
Cathy, huh. She’d cover her mouth, and stare at him with regret. Maybe she’d finally let herself love him too, with Linton’s wedding band on her finger. What a riot.
He thought to the person he’d been when he’d first left their manor. Feeling like the world had come crashing down around him, only because of her words. Thinking she’d been his shining sun because she’d deigned to see him while the others treated him like the scum stuck to their shoes. Feeling the light leave his life when he realized she’d felt the same and had only been better at hiding it. The world had been so clear cut then. Losers, winners, the haves and have-nots, the woman of his dreams, all wrapped nicely inside the walls of that manor on the hill.
Heathcliff had thought he’d seen the ceiling of the world. It was the Earnshaw Manor, and the people who lived there occupied a place he’d never truly know. Even if they’d taken him in, they reminded him time and time again that he didn’t belong there. That he was lucky to have a spot in the dirt at their feet.
But then he met Hong Lu. And the ceiling of his world shattered again.
Wuthering Heights. The people who’d owned his world, tried to teach him his place again and again…
Points on a map. He guessed there were people who’d scoff at Cathy’s decrepit manor. Wouldn’t give her the time of day when she was just another tier on the ladder, with so far to climb up.
He guessed he knew better now. The Earnshaw’s weren’t so perfect themselves, desperately hanging onto some bygone glory days and trying to keep the wealth tied to that manor with everything they had. Heathcliff was a broke tosser. He came from the Backstreets. So what? So what? He’d seen others like him by now, better and worse off.
And Catherine. Well.
“Catherine’s just a girl I wanted to try to impress. To tell ya’ the truth of it.” Heathcliff muttered.
He realized he meant it when the words left his mouth. Like that was all there was. Should he have added more? Wasn’t there more to it?
Or was that all he really had to say about it, after all was said and done?
He didn’t know why he started to grow out his hair. All he knew was that his boss had long hair, and it looked damn good, and the man looked rich and sleek as hell. Not like he was trying to imitate him… but then his boss cut his own and still looked like a million bucks and Heathcliff realized it probably wasn’t the style but it was just Hong Lu, and Heathcliff realized…
It was fine. Heathcliff looked damn good too. They met their clients for contracts and it was like people didn’t even realize who they were talking to. Because they straightened up, called him Mister and Sir and shook his hand while looking him in the eye. It stopped being hilarious after the first few months of it, because Heathcliff didn’t realize that he could get used to even something like this. He could buy his own shirts and ties when the burn marks and gunpowder stained them too much to clean.
He would look in the mirror and see something Cathy might have liked. And when the thought didn’t bring him anything but a vague sense of soreness, Heathcliff really started to think that he might have lost it.
What the hell was he doing? What the bloody hell had happened to his grand standing plan? Would it all come rushing back if he left for the manor right now?
Maybe if the boss was okay with it. Maybe if they didn’t have so many contracts already lined up, ticking down to their deadlines. Maybe the boss would just hire a stand-in, ride along with them late at night, and decide he liked them better.
Yeah, scratch that. Not happening. Heathcliff wasn’t going anywhere yet. Who knew how high the rates would be for some last minute temp right now? They were already over budget for the month. Sinclair’d probably go off his trolley.
So the next time they had a quiet moment on the way to or from the Office, Heathcliff asked him.
“Say, boss. Just for curiosity’s sake. If I had to leave.”
“Let’s say something happened to me. Say, I died… would you hire someone like me in my place? Would you look for the saddest sack you could find, dress them up nice, and try to save them too?”
Okay, not really what he was going for. But Heathcliff framed it like he was just shooting crap to pass the time. Casual, nice, easy, a ridiculous scenario to nosh on.
But who was he kidding about it?
Failing to keep the pep in his tone, Heathcliff looked down.
“Or do you ever feel… embarrassed? Ashamed? To have a bastard like me as your partner? Ever wish you had someone here who could actually carry their own weight?”
Hong Lu looked at him with wide eyes, as open as clear water. “Hmm? Why would I ever-”
Heathcliff felt the next words rise out of him like he was throwing them up. Something sour that burned on its way out, but he couldn’t stop if he tried. “Be honest with me here. Do I ever…”
He swallowed and cursed himself as he stumbled over the words, and cursed himself as he even said them. “...Do you ever feel like I degrade you?”
It was embarrassing as shite, banging on out about all his troubles and just making a general arse of himself. He was really getting too comfortable here, treating his boss like some old mate, like some therapist, like they were really just equals in every sense of the word.
Hong Lu paused for a considering hum. Really, Heathcliff was just hoping he’d take it seriously. He didn’t want to keep tossing his heart out like this. But if it just kept nagging and nagging at him-
“Heathcliff, if you die, try not to get hit in the head, hm? Take the wound to your heart if you have to. Or even let them cut off your head.” Hong Lu replied confidently.
Heathcliff’s eyes widened. Saying the most mental things without a ripple across his expression, nothing really new there… but Heathcliff wanted to wince, he wanted to tear his hair out. And Hong Lu continued without missing a beat.
“That’ll make it easy for me to take up all the parts. I’ll take them up to Hongyuan, and we’ll put you together, good as new~”
And then he looked at Heathcliff’s spluttering expression with the sternest sort of grin. “Don’t do it too much, though. Keep putting you back together again and again, and…”
“I’d hate if you stopped talking back to me. If you lost that spark in your eyes… that would be a real shame. We make a good team.”
“And I’ve got more than enough money.” He smiled. “What worth is any more?”
“I’d rather have you, if I had to choose.”
As far as he’d lived, the only person Heathcliff had once felt some sort of love and attraction to had been Catherine. Of course. She’d been beautiful, gentle, and everything Heathcliff wasn’t and couldn’t be. The waterfall of her cascading hair, sloping lightly over her shoulders. Her wide, soft brown eyes, the quiet sadness that never fully left them. She’d been an enigma Heathcliff couldn’t, and wouldn’t, ever solve. Even when she’d rejected him and everything he was, Heathcliff had thought that she was his end. His ultimate test and ending to prove his existence was worth something. Or die trying.
But then along that road, trying to become something she’d love, he’d opened himself to a new world. He’d seen places he never thought he’d see. He met Hong Lu, and…
Maybe the first and least important problem was, Hong Lu was beautiful. It was like saying the sky was blue, rain was wet. His shining, straight black hair, bangs that swept over his mismatched eyes. Depending which way they fell, his gaze seemed so different to Heathcliff. Cold and piercing, or downturned, warm, and kind.
His slender, toned arms with perfectly unmarked skin. Elegant still, even if Hong Lu had collected his own fair share of scars since they’d met. Heathcliff remembered the one on his left flank- a lucky slash by some bandit that Heathcliff hadn’t been able to pick off fast enough.
Maybe the second problem was that Hong Lu could still be gentle despite it all too. Post-mission, he smiled through the sting of antiseptic and lightly oozing wounds as Heathcliff patched what he could. Thanking him and reassuring him as if Hong Lu wasn’t the one always coming out injured on the other side of things. Meanwhile, Heathcliff started cataloging something like a list of his own failures. Taking care of these new mistakes, even as they started to claw at him for even letting them get to this point. Couldn’t they just use an ampule? What sort of thing could possibly be a better use of their extra funds…
When they changed from their blood-soaked clothes, Heathcliff watched sometimes. Recounted each mark like a punch to the gut. Wondered if they could ever take a moment of time alone. Tracing each one of them with his fingers. Reminding himself that Hong Lu was still there, despite the wounds that’d been inevitable.
All the while Heathcliff sat safely in distant space, never concerned about anything but watching Hong Lu’s back through his scope. Heart beating faster and faster every time the man threw himself into the thick of it.
But maybe the final and worst problem was that- Heathcliff would never stop running out of problems. Watching Hong Lu smirk on the battlefield as he rushed between their enemies with a dagger like it was he was born to do. Torn between wanting to stare after him forever, and wanting to ask him to never take another combat job for the rest of their lives.
Staying late at the office when he felt like he might just collapse from exhaustion, because the boss was talking to him. Telling Heathcliff a story about his childhood and his screwed up family. Laughing in the way he did when he was half delirious with fatigue. Or maybe staying when they weren’t even talking at all, but Hong Lu was there and that was reason enough.
Grabbing the key before anyone else got the chance. Just because it meant Heathcliff could hand it to Hong Lu after they took off their gloves, and risk the warmth of Hong Lu’s fingers against his.
Wanting to apologize. Wanting to hold him close there, and forget the worst times when he’d felt cold, when Hong Lu had gone through enough blood loss to whisper to him:
I renewed my life insurance this year, so Hongyuan will take care of me. So don’t worry, don’t worry Heath, don’t look so sad…
Wishing he could only press his lips over every old scar like a concession. Like a plea and a promise that it’d be the last one.
Damn.
Heathcliff felt like he was going to completely lose it. He just didn’t know why-
He always wanted and reached for… what he couldn’t have.
Heathcliff knew it was becoming an issue. It made times around the bossman awkward. And even if Heathcliff knew Hong Lu knew something was off, he never showed it in his ever constant smile. Even as Heathcliff wasted more bullets than he should have, too trigger happy at the slightest idea that someone might even think to come close enough to harm his superior.
Nightmares of Hong Lu bleeding out. Nightmares of his head splattered out on the pavement. It’d long since taken over that recurring dream of Cathy’s last words about him. And Heathcliff couldn’t say he was grateful for the new pictures in head. Meanwhile, his inadvertent daydreams had also started to shift from that picture of Cathy’s shining smile at him. He didn’t think so much of her hand in his, finally looking at him like someone who mattered. Leaving Linton behind, and choosing him instead.
That was the point when… Heathcliff had finally started to realize that he wasn’t as loyal as he thought.
Hong Lu smiling down at him. Looking only at him as he took the tie from his hair. Watching it fall loosely around him, with soft eyes that didn’t have to think anything about assignments or money or anything else for once…
Fuck. Heathcliff’s head fell against the wall, and his fist slammed dully by its side. This was shite, right? Goddamit.
But it all came to a head eventually. It was always going to.
Hong Lu. Sitting patiently on some bed while Heathcliff stared at the wound cut into his collarbone. Asking, asking until he was near begging. Just for the man to take an ampule this time. And Hong Lu would just keep turning it down, over and over. Because it wasn’t deep enough. Because it didn’t hurt enough this time.
Maybe it was just Heathcliff being selfish. Because really, he didn’t know if he could stare at this wound too, day after day, without wanting to near lose his goddamn mind. He stared at the trembling ampule in his hand. Watched it bubble sluggishly if only to stop himself from jabbing it into Hong Lu’s arm now and facing the consequences of it later.
Why was he always the one taking everything? Why couldn’t he do a thing no matter how hard he tried? He could build himself up, pretend to be someone his whole life, and yet-
What would it take, to just be something useful for once…?
Hong Lu’s laugh was the distant chime in the corner of his awareness that brought him out of it. “Heathcliff~ I know what’s been going on.”
“You’ve been wasting all of our bullets because of me, right? We’ve been bleeding money from it.” Hong Lu shook his head with a sigh, and said quietly.
“All because… you’re nervous I’m going to get hurt.”
“Fuck.” Heathcliff said under his breath. Fuck.
Hong Lu would never fire him, right? Would never let him go. Except, Heathcliff was getting to be a liability. The expensive kind, the one they just couldn’t really afford. Anyone else would have gotten rid of him by now.
Was he some sort of worthless tosser? Was he going to just make Hong Lu swallow the debt until he got tired of it? Because he didn’t know how to go back to how things used to be. Didn’t know how to use the bullets like they meant more than the man before him…
“Boss-” The words poured out of him, desperately, like emptying out his sins to a confessor’s booth. Like getting the words out could possibly do him some good. But that didn’t matter, because he didn’t know what to say. What excuse to make, how to plead his case. “Boss, I-”
He only knew what he wanted to say. What he’d been building in him like an unstoppable wave that washed away everything else.
“I-I’ll take care of you.”
And once he started, he knew there was no going back. His tongue tripped over itself, the words stuck halfway up his throat, but it wouldn’t stop him now. “Don’t believe me? I wouldn’t either- maybe I’m some good for nothing wanker, but I’ll pay those bullets with my blood, want to take it out of my pay? Go ahead, yeah?”
Because Heathcliff realized he didn’t really have anything to save for anymore. Everything he needed now- was right here. The only problem with having everything though, was that he was scared, terrified, of what it was to lose it. He didn’t need money. He didn’t need damn Cathy, who’d never needed him in the first place. He needed Hong Lu to look at him with the light still in his eyes, not a corpse that took everything, everything with him.
“If you’ll only just let me. Let me take c-care of you. Give me a chance. I know I take nothing but every single one of your chances. What’s one more?”
His voice fell. Rough and low, and empty of anything but this sort of self-indulgent insanity. “Yeah. Even if it runs me dry. Think you might get something of worth out of it?”
Hong Lu looked at him through it all. His face shifted in the small ways that Hong Lu’s did. The kind of way it did when their plans were falling through, when the stress seemed like it was even starting to get to him. Knowing how rare that was, Heathcliff knew he was really cocking things up.
Yeah, this was the moment. The moment Heathcliff mucked things up with the great sin of being himself, truly and fully.
“I’m yours. You know that? All yours.”
He sounded mad, utterly mental. He knew he did. Well maybe he was, and there was nothing he could do about it. “So please. Please, just…”
Hong Lu looked at him with a shimmering, fathomless gaze. He wasn’t smiling. He wasn’t frowning. He was looking at Heathcliff like he suddenly didn’t know him at all.
Heathcliff’s head dipped to the ground, and his eyes closed. Nothing worth looking at, nothing worth thinking about. Whatever Hong Lu said. He knew he’d remember it. He’d never been so good at letting things go.
There was a hand on his shoulder. Another came to his cheek. Lightly, like it was barely there, and wouldn’t stay.
But then Heathcliff’s head was tilting upwards. Hong Lu’s lips dipped down against his. Just as soft as they’d always looked. Heathcliff couldn’t even move. He could only just take it, and wish that it didn’t have to end. Hong Lu pulled back. It was over before he knew it. It was almost chaste.
But that was enough. Heathcliff was nothing if not someone who’d be satisfied with anything, who could wait forever, really…
“Thinking of me? Or someone…” Hong Lu whispered then, his forehead against his. Voice like something fragile.
Heathcliff’s answering whisper was as indignant as it could be. “Goddamit, boss…” He shook his head. “What do you think, Hong Lu…”
Hong Lu shook his head then, too.
“Call me-” He smiled and hesitated. “Call me, Baoyu, then…”
And then, with a little quiet, weak laugh. “I want to hear it from you.”
In a way, it was like hearing him laugh for the first time. Hong Lu opened his eye, but the left stayed closed. It didn’t look like it hurt, but somehow, Heathcliff thought it did.
“Why…” Heathcliff traced a hand over it, brushed Hong Lu’s hair behind his ear.
“Something wrong…?” Heathcliff asked quietly, like he was someone soft, and always had been.
“Sorry.” Hong Lu said, holding back a million emotions. And for once, he wasn’t doing a good job of it. He looked at him with that sole dark gaze, like that was all there was to the world.
“Just wanted this… for myself.”
Heathcliff didn’t know. And he thought Hong Lu didn’t want to think anything about it, at least right now. And if that’s how it was, then Heathcliff would hold back the world, and let him forget.
“Baoyu.” He placed his own lips against the temple near Baoyu’s closed eye. Baoyu trembled, and sighed. If Heathcliff had never seen the man fall apart, no matter the stress or the sorrow of it all. Maybe. Maybe it’d still been there anyway.
Heathcliff suddenly felt like he didn’t know anything about the world at all. Or maybe that… nothing he’d really known before had really meant a thing, until he got here. Nowhere to go and nothing to look for.
And maybe he ought to forget it all too. Forget that he really needed a place in the Backstreets, in the City, above or below anyone or anything he’d known. Forget everything but his fingers against the curve of Baoyu’s face, and all the world there in his hand.