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Even after so many years of being together, of having Yin Yu safely asleep by his side each night, and having worked out all their misunderstandings and issues, there were still some days where things were hard. It had nothing to do with their present: it was simply that some wounds were so deep that, even after being scarred, they still hurt.
Sometimes, it was Yin Yu who had nightmares, so vivid and so torturous that they left him unsettled for days on end. Revisiting those old and painful memories always brought back his guilt and his shame, but Quan Yizhen always did an excellent job reminding him that it was all far behind them now. Yin Yu had learned by now that he could rely on his husband, that would always be there for him, and more importantly, wanted to be there for him on those occasions. Wanted to offer his embrace and reassure him. “My Yu–er is not a burden, or a bother. It’s this husband’s pleasure to remind him of how loved he is,” he always said, and he proved it time and time again.
When Quan Yizhen had a nightmare, though… it could be a bit more difficult to deal with the outcome. Not because Yin Yu didn’t want to deal with it, or considered it a burden; of course he wanted to help his husband feel better! It was just that Quan Yizhen’s reactions to a bad dream could get so much more intense than his own, and at first, he had no idea of how to help. It didn’t happen every time: there were plenty of nightmares that didn’t get him so desperate. But when he had been already stressed about something, or had an overwhelming day and was tired, nightmares seemed to trigger a much stronger emotional response.
There were times when Quan Yizhen woke up agitated, almost completely out of control, to the point that he was at risk of injuring himself, because he started hitting his head with his fists, tugging at his hair, or held himself so tight that his nails bite into his skin and made him bleed, rocking his body while he mumbled how stupid he was, how useless, how pathetic and worthless, in a constant loop.
It usually happened after having a vivid nightmare reliving the Brocade Immortal incident, or Yin Yu’s death. That night, it had been the latter.
“I’m here, Zhenzhen,” Yin Yu said, in a firm but reassuring voice. “I’m okay. Look at me, alright? Can you look at me, Zhenzhen?”
He had learned his lesson about trying to physically restrain Quan Yizhen or reaching for his hands when he was acting like this: he truly was unable to control his own reactions at the moment, and it always took him a while to recover from the terror and emotional turmoil, at least enough to recognize Yin Yu and remember where he was. So, if Yin Yu tried to hug him or hold him in any way, he would react badly. It would only make things worse, since Quan Yizhen felt extremely guilty when he realized what had happened, if he hit Yin Yu, no matter that it wasn’t voluntary and that he never made any lasting damage.
Yin Yu had to be patient and help him in other ways. But by now, he knew what to do, and even if he never stopped feeling sad when he saw Quan Yizhen so hurt and scared, he knew it wasn’t really about him anymore. And his priority was to help his husband feel better.
“Zhenzhen, look at me, please,” he repeated, now louder, loud enough to be heard over Quan Yizhen’s incessant mumbling. “I’m here with you, just look at me.” He made sure to be right in front of Quan Yizhen, so he couldn’t miss him when he opened his eyes.
“Shixiong?” It always made Yin Yu’s heart squeeze, the way Quan Yizhen’s eyes looked so desperate, so vulnerable and full of hurt in those moments. “SHIXIONG!”
He didn’t stop rocking himself, and his hands were still firmly tangled in between his curly locks of hair, but at least he was looking at Yin Yu’s face now, even if he seemed to be unconvinced of the reality of his presence there in front of him, and his eyes were full of tears, an unending stream of them.
“Yes, Zhenzhen,” Yin Yu got closer to him now, and opened his arms. “I’m here, everything is okay. Do you remember where we are?” He kept his arms open, in an invitation for Quan Yizhen to take refuge against his chest.
Quan Yizhen did not reply, still too shaken, but his eyes were slowly focusing on Yin Yu’s face with more clarity, even through his tears.
“Shixiong,” he repeated, in a watery, barely audible whisper. “Shixiong is still here?”
“That’s right, your shixiong is still here with you. I’m not going anywhere, Zhenzhen.” Since Quan Yizhen had not moved towards him yet, he opted for changing strategies. “Would you hold my hands, Zhenzhen? I’m feeling a bit cold.”
That finally got Quan Yizhen to stop tugging at his hair, and he slowly extended his trembling hands to reach for Yin Yu’s, who immediately interlaced their fingers and started rubbing Yizhen’s skin with his thumbs, persistent and firm, making it clear that he was real.
Quan Yizhen kept rocking his body, and started crying even harder.
“Do you want me to hold you, Zhenzhen?” Yin Yu asked him, without letting go of his hands yet.
His husband finally nodded, wordlessly, and let go of his hands, to launch himself against the safety of that chest. Yin Yu let out a little oof at the impact, but made no attempt to get away, and immediately surrounded him with his arms, holding his Zhenzhen as close as he could. He remembered to simulate a heartbeat for him to hear, since it always helped him calm down from his crisis.
Yin Yu caressed Quan Yizhen’s head, in soft, soothing motions, and rocked them both, knowing it felt pleasant for Quan Yizhen and for some reason helped him feel better when he was overwhelmed. Quan Yizhen was holding him like his life depended on it. Maybe it did, on nights like that.
“I’m here with you, Zhenzhen. I’m never going to leave you,” Yin Yu whispered, his voice so soft that no one but Quan Yizhen would have been able to hear him. “We’re safe here, in our home, and we’ve been married for centuries,” he recounted, helping Quan Yizhen’s mind to slowly emerge from those murky, agitated waters. “We live together, and have a huge garden and a pond full of frogs. We climb the trees together all the time.”
Quan Yizhen kept sniffling and sobbing, his body trembling and his breathing still uneven, but Yin Yu could tell that some of the tension in his body had dissipated.
“You brought me back with you, and were patient with this stubborn shixiong of yours,” Yin Yu continued, “and showed me how to forgive myself.” He kissed the top of Quan Yizhen’s head, overcome by his own emotions, but after taking a deep breath, he kept going. “You have my soul wrapped around your left wrist,” Yin Yu said, referring to the bracelet that held his ashes. “I gave you my ashes, and I have never regretted it, not even once. I’ve never been happier than I am with you, my Zhenzhen.”
Quan Yizhen sat up again to look at his face. It wasn’t news to him that Yin Yu felt that way: the days when he still had trouble saying it were long gone. But when he said it like this, when he described their lives together in such a loving, simple way, it always did something special to his heart, and whenever Yin Yu took care of him like this, it was a reminder of exactly why he loved him so much, why it had always been worth it.
Even if sometimes they woke up in the middle of the night because the past tried to trap them again, there was no need to fear, because they had each other.
“Yu-er,” Quan Yizhen said, bringing his hands to caress all over Yin Yu’s face, as if trying to commit his features into memory, as if he hadn’t already engraved every detail of Yin Yu into his very soul. “My husband.”
“That’s right,” Yin Yu smiled, covering Quan Yizhen’s hands with his own.
They stayed like that, in silence, for a little while.
“I’m sorry for waking you up,” Quan Yizhen finally said, after he stopped crying and could talk coherently again. He always ended up feeling guilty when this happened.
“There’s no need to be sorry. You know that I don’t mind.” Yin Yu got closer to Quan Yizhen, and kissed his forehead, and the tip of his nose, making him smile a tiny bit. “And it’s always my pleasure, to be one that takes care of you.”
“My Yu-er always takes care of me,” Quan Yizhen replied, absolutely smitten. His love declaration was interrupted by a loud sniffle, so Yin Yu stood up, to go get a handkerchief for Quan Yizhen.
“Here,” he offered it to his husband, along with a warm, wet towel for his face. “You always feel better after you clean yourself.”
“Thank you, Yu-er.”
Some loud nose–blowing sounds later, plus a thorough minute of rough face–wiping (“Sometimes I fear you’re going to wipe your face off, Zhenzhen, there’s no need to rub so hard!”) Quan Yizhen felt much better.
“Can I get another hug?” Quan Yizhen asked, a bit shyly.
“You can always have all the hugs you want,” Yin Yu replied, and he playfully lifted him up, so Quan Yizhen took the chance to put his legs around Yin Yu’s waist, clinging to him while laughing.
After that, they got under the covers again, now feeling a lot better, and Quan Yizhen immediately plastered himself against Yin Yu’s chest, wanting to stay as close to him as he physically could, while Yin Yu scratched his scalp and softly hummed an old song from the West, to lull him back to sleep.
“I love you so much, shixiong,” Quan Yizhen mumbled, before drifting off again.
“I love you too, Zhenzhen,” Yin Yu replied, the smile on his lips noticeable in his voice, as he also let himself fall asleep, still holding Quan Yizhen as tightly as he could.