Work Text:
Time crawls.
Qiao Ling’s words, “You should tell Cheng Xiaoshi”, still linger in the air, and they're starting to smell rotten.
Not being tormented by familiarity anymore, Lu Guang realizes as he lazily climbs into bed, is quite uncomfortable for him. Ever since their clash with Qian Jin that rendered both Lu Guang and Cheng Xiaoshi bedridden in the hospital, the formerly recurrent phrase “Ah, I know this moment” hasn’t passed through the former’s mind once, and it feels weird. It’s like he isn’t constantly recording over an old tape anymore.
And after having lived on a recycled memory diet for years, weeks of brand new scenarios are apparently really hard to digest for Lu Guang, which is probably why he has a mild stomach ache and also something close to a migraine. It definitely has nothing to do with the conversation he had with Qiao Ling this very morning.
Right now is not the time to ruminate over any of that, though. He and Cheng Xiaoshi came home from the hospital just yesterday, and he needs to rest lest he wants to end up in there again. So, readily, Lu Guang curls up in his bed and lets Morpheus wrap him in a thick midnight blue veil, heavy with the hours of sleep he needs to catch up on, and begin to softly rock him into slumber.
Unfortunately, the oneiric realm is in cahoots with reality—neither is forgiving.
In his dream, where he feels himself fall through the mattress and into a red void—sticky and dense, like blood mixed with syrup—, the words Qiao Ling said a few hours before fight their way through Lu Guang’s throat and come out of his mouth instead.
“It was really weird, but yes, I think I could see Li Tianxi’s own memories and also the ones of the people she possessed before. And I saw you in them. You were holding Cheng Xiaoshi, and he was… dead.”
The crimson void mimics Lu Guang’s voice, and replicates his response. “That’s impossible. Cheng Xiaoshi is alive.”
Lu Guang practically vomits the question that follows. “I know that; my point is, has he ever been dead before? Because it looked too real. Lu Guang, don’t tell me you’ve altered the past somehow…”
He chokes on the red substance; coughs until he thinks his lungs might give up. Still, the reenacting of the conversation with Qiao Ling doesn’t let up.
“That’s dangerous, you should know that better than anybody.”
The red void fills Lu Guang’s lungs and heart and intestines. It begins to come out of his tear ducts. Nevertheless, it keeps speaking, its voice cold and relentless.
“Qiao Ling, I- listen, you weren’t there, so I’m not asking you to understand. You and Cheng Xiaoshi were both killed. I didn’t have a choice! And I’ll keep trying to fix it as many times as necessary until-”
“‘As many times…’?”
He can’t hear the conversation anymore. Lu Guang feels the words coming out, somehow, but even his ears are now full of blood, or syrup, or both.
“I don’t know, Lu Guang… I think we should all talk about this, and figure out what we’re going to do. I think…”
Lu Guang’s vision goes black—no, dark vermillion.
“... you should tell Cheng Xiaoshi.”
“Lu Guang! Oh, what’s wrong? Are you sick?”
Lu Guang’s mind is still fighting as his body goes into full ‘flight’ mode before he even opens his eyes or registers whose voice has just startled him awake. Quickly, he sits right up.
Plonk.
He hits his head against something metallic, hard.
It clearly isn’t the ceiling. What-?
“Ouch.” Cheng Xiaoshi, standing in the doorway, flinches as if he’s the one injured. “Are you OK?” He swiftly covers the distance between the door and the bed.
“I am. And I’m not sick.” Lu Guang, his eyes still half-closed, rubs his forehead in an attempt to ease the sharp pain. He cusses under his breath, so much so that Cheng Xiaoshi doesn’t hear it. “I was taking a nap—a nap you interrupted just now.”
“Yeah, you’re taking a nap in my bed, that’s why I was asking,” Cheng Xiaoshi points out, raising his eyebrows.
Finally opening his eyes and taking it all in, Lu Guang looks to his right and promptly realizes that he isn’t overlooking the room from his top bunk. Overwhelmed with memories and exhaustion and doubt, he accidentally got into Cheng Xiaoshi’s bed instead of his own, his body too tired to climb the ladder.
“Oh,” is all he says in response.
“You were, like, twitching weirdly. Like a fish out of water trying to get back in the ocean.” Cheng Xiaoshi continues, sitting down beside Lu Guang.
The latter immediately gets under the blankets again—covering even his head—and rolls over.
“Very poetic.” The words come out muffled.
“Were you having a nightmare or something?” Cheng Xiaoshi asks. “And don’t lie.”
“I wasn’t,” Lu Guang lies.
“Why are you facing away from me? Wait, are you still mad because I ate your lime jelly in the hospital?” Cheng Xiaoshi pouts like a kid. “I told you I forgot I’d already eaten mine before. And I bought tons today, just for you to eat! They’re in the fridge. Seriously, you can check it if you don’t believe me. There are like a dozen-”
“It’s not because of the lime jelly!” Lu Guang interrupts him, his head throbbing, either because of how hard he hit it against the top bunk before or due to the nightmare; or, perhaps, even due to the conversation with Qiao Ling he's trying so far to push into the very back of his mind where he can't easily reach it. Who knows, at that point?
“Then what is it?” Cheng Xiaoshi raises his left arm and not-so-subtly sniffs his armpit. “Do I smell bad?”
“It’s not that either. It’s nothing.”
Lu Guang grunts before ultimately kicking back the covers and getting up, minding the top bunk this time. Absentmindingly, he walks across the room towards the desk, fully intending to sit down and use his laptop or something, before stopping in the middle of the task and deciding he’d rather go to bed again—his own bed this time, preferably. He turns on his heels. He is truly, truly tired. The word ‘exhausted’ doesn’t even begin to cover it.
It’s catching up to him, all of it; everything said, everything unsaid, everything done, everything gone.
Through it all, Lu Guang has never taken a day off, figuratively and literally speaking. He is in a race with time itself, after all, and he is losing speed. The deaths, the memories, fate—he must outrun them all. It’s only natural that he’s never taken a break.
Apparently though, his mind and body have decided to rest whether he wants it or not.
“Where are you going now?” Cheng Xiaoshi raises an eyebrow. He stands up and gets between Lu Guang and the ladder. “Seriously, you do look sick. Let me check your temperature-.”
He tries to put his hand to Lu Guang’s forehead, still red in the very middle.
Lu Guang steps back. “No, stop it!”
Perhaps it’ll be alright if he rests for just a few minutes. Yes. He can try that. Not like he has a choice, anyway; his ears are ringing, and his legs are starting to tremble slightly. Destiny can wait a second—he needs to get to his damn bed.
“Why are you so snappy? And I don’t believe ‘it’s nothing’.” Cheng Xiaoshi leans against the ladder, not fully understanding the urgency.
Complete silence. Lu Guang can only muster the energy to stare at his best friend with a poker face, the widening dark circles under his eyes doing all the talking necessary.
“Oh. Sorry.” Cheng Xiaoshi’s face suddenly falls. Slowly, he steps away from the ladder. “You’re tired. I’m bothering you. Could’ve just said it, you know? I won’t get mad or anything.”
“You never bother me.”
The words leave Lu Guang’s mouth without his permission—way before his brain fully finishes and processes the sentence, or how it sounds, or its implications.
Silence again, eventually broken by the floorboards creaking under Cheng Xiaoshi’s feet as he carefully shifts his weight to his right leg and starts walking towards Lu Guang again. There is a hint of a smile on his face, which he rapidly tries to erase any trace of.
“That’s… really nice. And good to hear, ‘cause sometimes you act like I do. I mean, I’m not blaming you or anything, I can be pretty annoying sometimes, you know? Well, you do know, obviously.” Cheng Xiaoshi chuckles faintly, desperately trying to make the situation feel less awkward. Lu Guang keeps looking at him, still visibly shocked and embarrassed by his own words. “But if you mean what you just said, that’s like, a relief, ‘cause, not to be dramatic but sometimes I feel like you’d rather die a thousand deaths than hang out with me.” He chuckles again—it’s getting old, fast.
A sudden, sharp breath escapes Lu Guang’s lungs. Frozen in place, only his eyes react, widening and—although almost imperceptibly— beginning to fill up with tears. Things start to blur around him. He’s choking on his own heartbeat.
To Cheng Xiaoshi, Lu Guang looks like he’s just been shot.
“Ah, no, I didn’t mean that literally, obviously, it just came out weird. I know that we did almost die not so long ago, so, hah, too soon, maybe? Um, sorry. My bad. Really, I’m sorry.” Cheng Xiaoshi trips over himself apologizing. “What I wanted to say was…”
Lu Guang doesn’t react in any way. The rushed phrases erratically dance in circles around them until they gradually start to lose strength, blurring together and becoming smaller and smaller, until they fade and mix with the dry, warm air inside the bedroom.
Quickly and desperately, Lu Guang’s eyes—the only part of his body that seems to be obeying him—scan the walls in search for something from two or three timelines ago; that photo. A photo taken during a job in which they were hired to photograph someone’s wedding—Qiao Ling’s idea, to expand their horizons and the studio’s portfolio; and one Lu Guang loathed.
In the picture, Cheng Xiaoshi, dressed in all black, had his left arm around Lu Guang’s waist; the latter, taken by surprise, was pictured almost spilling his glass of champagne all over his white suit jacket. As she took the photo, Qiao Ling giggled and pointed out how the two of them, dressed like that, looked like a groom and his bride. Yes, Lu Guang remembers that day vividly.
He also recalls Cheng Xiaoshi’s insistence, the way he teasingly smiled while suggesting “we reeeally should hang this picture in the bedroom. It’s too good not to look at it every day”. Eventually, Lu Guang complied. He pretended he hated it being one of the first things he saw upon waking up in the morning and looking to his side, yet he caught himself debating whether he should use his abilities to go back to that day an embarrassing amount of times—the laughter coming from the dance floor, the fragrance of the peonies used as centerpieces on the white banquet tables, and Cheng Xiaoshi’s hand around his waist. Especially that last part.
He never did dive into that photo, hopeful that that attempt at saving Qiao Ling and Cheng Xiaoshi would be the last one and he’d have all the time in the world to do it in the future. Now, Lu Guang’s eyes linger idly on the blank spot on the wall where it used to hang, like he’s running his tongue over the empty socket of a freshly extracted molar over and over again.
“Are you… crying?” Cheng Xiaoshi asks in a gentle yet worried tone, snapping Lu Guang out of his trance.
“Not yet,” the latter thinks as he shakes his head. It is true that his eyes have been full of tears for about a minute now, but he keeps trying to blink them away, vehemently refusing to let them fall. Lu Guang’s vision is so blurry at this point he can only see outlines and colors, like Cheng Xiaoshi’s dark hair and the pastel yellow sweater he’s wearing. “I don’t know for how long I’ll be able to avoid it, though.”
Cheng Xiaoshi closes the distance between them only a little bit. Just a small step. Just testing the waters.
“What’s wrong? I’m here. It’s fine. What is it?”
He is not helping.
Lu Guang feels an unruly tear roll down his cheek.
“Shit,” he curses under his breath as he quickly gets on his knees, hangs his head low, and covers his face so Cheng Xiaoshi can’t see him cry. He doesn’t know why he’s adopted that specific position. He likely looks ridiculous.
He doesn’t really care.
“Lu Guang!” Cheng Xiaoshi also kneels down immediately.
The whole situation is absurd, Lu Guang thinks; in fact, if he weren’t too busy trying not to weep, he’d probably laugh. Why is he the one sobbing? Why is Cheng Xiaoshi the one desperately trying to comfort him, when it should be the other way around?
Lu Guang is a hypocrite—there’s no other way to put it. He’s sure of it. After all, he constantly lectures his friend over and over about never changing the past and letting it be and whatnot, yet he’s put both Cheng Xiaoshi and Qiao Ling through terrible deaths multiple times just because he cannot let go. They should be the ones crying and hurting, not him. Lu Guang doesn’t have the right to feel hurt. He’s put himself in this situation. This is no one’s fault but his.
And still. Still, Cheng Xiaoshi reaches out and puts his hand on Lu Guang’s to comfort him, and it works. Of course it does. Everything about Cheng Xiaoshi exudes stability, the kind that feels like stepping into a warm house, where you can smell your favorite food cooking and hear muffled chattering coming from the kitchen, after running under the rain for hours.
That’s when Lu Guang realizes two things—he wouldn’t admit them out loud, but he does realize.
The first one is that old habits don’t ‘die hard’, they simply never die. Lu Guang is always going to end up in the darkroom, or sometimes somewhere else, cradling Cheng Xiaoshi and holding his bloodied hand as he breathes his last breath. And Lu Guang is always going to end up diving back in time afterwards to save him before his absence even has time to become a presence; before it can wholly be felt and grieved.
The second one is that Lu Guang is always going to love Cheng Xiaoshi. That is the true enduring, immutable concept—not time, not fate.
He loves him to the point of pure selfishness. He wants to be able to hold Cheng Xiaoshi’s hand when it’s not bloodied and bruised, and hug him not to comfort him as he slips away, but just because. He wants to collect photos of them he’ll never need to dive into. But what Lu Guang truly wants, more than anything, is to see Cheng Xiaoshi grow and change—to meet not another, slightly different young adult version of Cheng Xiaoshi in a new timeline, but an actually new one; one that has different hobbies he’s gotten into over the years and more creases by his eyes. A version Lu Guang doesn’t need to save anymore.
And no matter how many times he has to cry and kick and scream, he is going to get it. Even if he’s not there to meet that version, he will make sure it exists, God or time itself forgive him—but if they don’t, that’s fine; Lu Guang isn’t sure he can even forgive himself, anyway.
“I have altered the past,” he lets out, so fast that the phrase sounds like just one big word, and in doing so Lu Guang finds a semblance of solace, of relief. And that disgusts him.
It shouldn’t feel good to let anyone in on this secret of his—he should be ashamed. No use stopping on his tracks now that those words are out, though. He forces himself to continue speaking.
“I’ve dived back to change the past several times now, to save you and Qiao Ling. You were both killed and I- letting the past and future be is what I always preach, so I know how this sounds, and you don’t have to forgive me or even look me in the eye again. I’d understand. But I will keep doing it because seeing you… die… Seeing you die is-”
Lu Guang chokes up. He can’t bear to take his gaze off the hardwood floor, now a darker shade of brown in some spots where his tears are falling.
“I’m so sorry,” is all he manages to say. He repeats it like that is going to change anything, “I’m so sorry.”
Cheng Xiaoshi is completely, almost impossibly still, mouth agape, his hand still on Lu Guang’s.
Time, ironically, stops for a second.
“... What?” Cheng Xiaoshi mutters, the tone undecipherable, like a mix of surprise, fear, and genuine curiosity. “Are you serious?”
Another silent second passes. The gears inside Lu Guang’s brain are working overtime. The conversation is not going well, naturally, because who would be happy and content with what he's just said?
Ultimately, flight ends up beating fight, freeze, and fawn. Like a panicked animal who thinks it’s being hunted, Lu Guang suddenly and quickly smacks Cheng Xiaoshi’s hand away, stands up, and takes two steps back.
“I don’t care if you hate me or if you think I’m a hypocrite, okay? I don’t care!” He raises his voice more and more as the blatant lie goes on. Why is he saying that? Truth be told, there are very few things in this world Lu Guang cares more about than Cheng Xiaoshi’s opinion.
Cheng Xiaoshi doesn’t even flinch. “Who says I hate you?”
The words are positive, hopeful; yet his tone sends a shiver down Lu Guang’s spine, because he’s heard it before, even if only a few times.
It’s the tone Cheng Xiaoshi only uses when he’s really mad.
“I never said that. But, Lu Guang,” he stands up, slowly and way too calmly, his head low. After staying in place for what feels like ages, he starts walking towards Lu Guang without a hurry. Cheng Xiaoshi only looks at him when they’re finally standing eye to eye. “you are a hypocrite.”
Lu Guang is the surprised one now. Yes, he’d said that about himself mere seconds before, but he’d certainly never expected—never wanted—Cheng Xiaoshi to repeat it.
It feels like he’s mocking his friend when he asks, “... What?” in the exact same cadence the latter did a minute before. Lu Guang hopes it doesn’t come across that way, but he doesn’t have time to backtrack.
“When I thought you’d died,” Cheng Xiaoshi continues, monotonously, “I stared at a picture you were in all the way to the hospital. I thought about diving into it, like, a million times during that fifteen-minute drive, but I didn’t because I knew I had to trust you, and I respect you too much to- Lu Guang, what… have you done?” He lets out a half-sigh, half-cry—it gives away how confused he is, how afraid he truly feels. “You… you’re supposed to be the rational one. You’re supposed to have stuff under control and know not to do things like that! So why…?”
Lu Guang’s staring intently at the floor. Again. What else can he do? Curse himself, maybe, but he’s already been mentally doing that since the conversation started.
Cheng Xiaoshi puts his hands on his hips and lets out the longest sigh Lu Guang's ever heard. Still, seconds later, he extends his arms and, gently but firmly, he grabs Lu Guang by the shoulders. “Okay, tell me everything. Tell me what happened.”
Time starts flowing as usual again.
Although a bit shaky, Cheng Xiaoshi’s hands help Lu Guang steady himself—ground himself. The gravity of the situation doesn’t completely dissipate, but he feels lighter, more collected.
It’s kind of funny, Lu Guang thinks, how time seems to begin and end in Cheng Xiaoshi’s hands; as if he were controlling it, bending it at will the way Lu Guang so desperately wishes he could.
“I don’t know where to…” Lu Guang clears his throat, twice, and tries to swallow everything that isn’t a coherent response, which is the least Cheng Xiaoshi deserves. “So… the darkroom. You were killed in the darkroom the first time. And, um, other times too, but not all of them. So as you were dying it seems your powers got transferred to me somehow and that’s how I-”
“Hold on, hold on,” Cheng Xiaoshi closes his eyes like that’s going to help retain the information better, “how many times did you say you’ve dived into the past?”
“Too many,” Lu Guang replies, and admitting that visibly hurts him. “Please, don’t ask me that.”
Cheng Xiaoshi considers it for a second. “... Fine, I won’t. Go on.” He says, yet he begins talking again immediately after. “You’re saying you have my powers too? Since when? And why did you have me dive into pictures then, if you can do it too? And how-?”
“I can’t answer a dozen questions at once, you know.”
“Okay, then answer the first one.”
“Yes, I have your powers too. I’ve already said that.”
“Well, then…” Cheng Xiaoshi ruffles his own hair. “Agh, I forgot everything else I was asking! Why did you interrupt me?”
“Sorry,” Lu Guang deadpans. He’s said that so many times, the word is starting to lose its meaning.
“Whatever, it’ll come back to me later.”
The two of them stand there for a while fully feeling the sort of feelings you can’t put into words; one could put a name to them—fear, regret, confusion, desperation—, just like one can put a name to time itself, but all of those things are bigger than just a few letters, after all. Words don’t even begin to cut it.
“So, what now?” Cheng Xiaoshi finally breaks the silence.
Lu Guang exhales slowly. “Now… we do everything in our power so you and Qiao Ling survive this time, like I’ve been doing before; only now, the two of you are also aware that you’re going to die.”
“Wait, Qiao Ling knows about this too?” Cheng Xiaoshi’s eyes open almost impossibly wide. “What- what else are you not telling me? Seriously?”
“She doesn’t quite know yet,” Lu Guang corrects him.
“What does that mean? ‘She doesn’t quite know yet’?”
Cheng Xiaoshi looks down and groans. He turns around dramatically, and just as dramatically he takes a few steps and sits down on his bed with his head in his hands.
“I need a minute,” he mutters.
Checking for a sign that his company isn’t welcome before each step, Lu Guang walks towards Cheng Xiaoshi and sits down next to him without uttering a word. It then dawns on Lu Guang that they hadn’t just existed around each other in complete quietness in forever—but he also realizes he doesn’t want that. Living with Cheng Xiaoshi means constant rambles, moot questions, sometimes screaming across the studio, and overall incessant noise.
Silence means trouble. It means Lu Guang’s failed at something, whether that’s saving Cheng Xiaoshi or comforting him, like right now.
“Are you okay?” he asks. Most idiotic question of all time.
Cheng Xiaoshi raises his head and scrubs a hand over his face. “I don’t know what to tell you,” he admits in a whisper, then chuckles a little in an attempt to take some weight off his words. “Not really, I guess? But I probably just need a second to, you know, let it sink in or something.”
Even in this situation, he’s tip-toeing past the elephant in the room, trying not to hurt Lu Guang’s feelings. It’s not fair. Cheng Xiaoshi has all the right to snap, to curse everyone and everything; to leave his friend and the mess he’s made behind.
“Listen,” Lu Guangs moves his left hand a little, not yet knowing where to put it or what to do with it, “why don’t we-?”
“The other times,” Cheng Xiaoshi suddenly interjects, “were we this close? During the other ‘timelines’, I mean. Did you ever try not to intervene to see what would happen?”
“No, I’ve never done that,” Lu Guang concedes after the initial surprise upon hearing that question wears off. His hand moves back to its place. “But I thought about it many times. Perhaps I should have.”
“No! What?” Cheng Xiaoshi yells, clearly offended.
Lu Guang flinches. “What?”
“I’d rather not be alive than not know you, idiot!”
Cheng Xiaoshi then realizes this is the first time he has called Lu Guang an idiot, instead of the other way around.
“I mean, I was just asking because I was curious. Don't say that!”
Upon turning to his right, he finds Lu Guang’s face is beet red, maybe due to the former calling him an idiot. Maybe.
“You don’t say that!”
“Agh, you know what I mean! I was only hoping that at least we were as close as we are now, that’s all!” Cheng Xiaoshi is now the one starting to get flustered.
“We… were always close, yes” Lu Guang tries to keep a poker face. His heart’s pounding against his ribcage. A knot starts to form in his throat.
“But some things were different, I suppose, right?”
“Some things.”
The wedding where Cheng Xiaoshi put his hand around Lu Guang’s waist. One time during the first dive when Lu Guang complimented Cheng Xiaoshi, calling him handsome—he doubts he’d have the guts to do it now. One winter night when they slept in the same bed, huddled together, because it was cold or they were having nightmares or some other excuse Lu Guang can’t recall right now.
So many arguments, laughs, adventures—lost and forgotten in time like haunted houses repeating the echoes of past lives over and over again as the world around them keeps spinning.
“Was I different?” Cheng Xiaoshi barely manages, like the words hurt like blades on the way up through his throat.
“No, not really,” Lu Guang says.
“And it’s a relief. It’s a relief that everything changed around me but you mostly stayed the same,” is what he thinks.
“Were you?” Cheng Xiaoshi asks, and again he seems terrified in anticipation.
“Different?”
“Yeah.”
“Sometimes I can’t recognize myself in my own memories,” Lu Guang thinks.
“No, not much either. I’ve always tried to keep things the same except when it came to something that might avoid you and Qiao Ling’s deaths. No need to change anything else,” is what he says.
Satisfied with those answers for now, Cheng Xiaoshi nods once.
“I need a nap too after all of this, I think.” He rubs his eyes carelessly like a sleepy toddler, then yawns.
Lu Guang sees the chance to end the conversation right then and there and gladly takes it. “We should probably get some sleep. We just got home from the hospital yesterday, and Qiao Ling is going to get mad if she doesn’t see us resting.”
“Yes, but after that,” Cheng Xiaoshi continues, “you have to tell me everything. All the details, and how we died before. And we have to figure out what we’re gonna do from now on.”
Lu Guang almost smiles when Cheng Xiaoshi puts his pinky up to seal the promise. After a few seconds of hesitation he does so as well, but before they can intertwine their fingers, Cheng Xiaoshi pulls back a little.
“And also promise me you’ll never go through this again all alone,” he adds.
All alone. Lu Guang hadn’t truly noticed how miserably lonely and lost he’d been feeling until this moment. He regrets getting both Qiao Ling and Cheng Xiaoshi all tangled up in his mistakes more and more every minute; wishes they’d never found out so he could keep carrying his own cross all by himself. They shouldn’t be involved. It’s not safe.
But, the loneliness.
The stifled cries, the sleepless nights, the visions of blood and the phantom smell of death in his hair and clothes that never goes away, no matter how much he washes them…
Lu Guang is not sure he can do it even once more. Sure, he’s done it time and time again, but even as stubborn as he is, he can now recognize the signs of his mind and body beginning to crumble and give up on him.
“I promise.”
He actually means it.
And just after he interlinks pinkies with Cheng Xiaoshi to seal their oath, the latter—after hesitating a little—holds Lu Guang’s wrist and suddenly, and very quickly, lies down on the bed, dragging Lu Guang down with him, all while keeping their fingers intertwined.
With no time to react while it’s happening, Lu Guang lets out a surprised “What-?” as his body hits the mattress. He locks eyes with Cheng Xiaoshi, who is still not letting him separate their pinkies.
“Nap time. And- stop trying to pull your hand away, we’re gonna sleep like this to let the promise marinate so it lasts.” Cheng Xiaoshi smiles.
“To let the promise… ‘marinate’?” Lu Guang can’t help but laugh, faintly. “That’s stupid.”
“Whatever you say. Sweet dreams,” Cheng Xiaoshi closes his eyes, then partially opens one to check for Lu Guang’s reaction.
He doesn’t get one.
Lu Guang readjusts his position so his legs aren’t hanging out of the bed, and promptly closes his eyes as well.
The clock can keep ticking and its hands can keep threatening to spin out of control; he’s lying next to Cheng Xiaoshi now, even though they’ve argued, and their promise is ‘marinating’ and—God, Cheng Xiaoshi is actually alive, right there next to him. It’s like Lu Guang’s brain suddenly processes it, like it finally clicks. Cheng Xiaoshi has survived past the death node so far. And he’s aware of the situation now, too, thus they may have an edge if somebody tries to catch them off guard. Something positive could potentially come out of the hellish conversation that's just taken place, after all.
They’re not out of the woods yet as far as Lu Guang knows, but this might be it. No, this has to be it. He can’t let everything go to waste this time after they’ve made it this far. He makes that oath to himself too: this is the one, even if things do get worse later; even if it ultimately kills him.
This is the final dive.
He’ll walk the tightrope and into the knife if he has to, just as he’s been ready to do countless times.
After all, Lu Guang has practically lived a thousand lives for Cheng Xiaoshi already. It’s only natural that he’d die a thousand deaths for him, too.