Work Text:
Click!
Cheng Xiaoshi lowered his phone, breath caught in his throat.
Lu Guang glared at him out of the corner of his eye, an adorably miffed expression on his face. His scrunched nose and narrowed eyes gave off the impression of a particularly annoyed cat. The light streaming in through the sunroom window glowed when it caught his white hair, messy from an evening spent snoozing.
He was amazing. He was beautiful. He was the best thing Cheng Xiaoshi had seen in his entire life.
Cheng Xiaoshi knew how the rest of this was supposed to go; he could see it playing out before him like a corrupted film. He teased Lu Guang about being a grump and Lu Guang demanded he delete the photo. They bantered and chased each other around the studio until Qiao Ling burst in, scolding them both for disturbing the neighbors. The photo remained as Cheng Xiaoshi’s wallpaper.
But none of that happened. Instead, he stared at Lu Guang, slack-jawed, joking insult dying on his tongue. He couldn’t say that— not after everything.
He stared for so long that Lu Guang’s peeved expression morphed into one of concern. His hand reached out.
“Cheng—”
“I-I…” Cheng Xiaoshi stepped back, trying desperately to find his voice as his heart thudded in his chest. “I need to use the restroom.”
Much to his eternal shame, Cheng Xiaoshi ran, fleeing to the bathroom and slamming the door shut before Lu Guang could follow him.
He pressed his back against the door, sliding down until he sat curled up against the tiles. His hands clutched the front of his jacket, tugging it down as his breaths came in heaving gasps.
There was so much red. Red in his vision, red on the floor, red on his hands, red on Lu Guang—
God, it was Lu Guang’s— on his h a n d s —
Cheng Xiaoshi pushed himself up and stumbled towards the sink. It was nonsense. It was a delusion— he knew that, he knew— but he needed to clean the haunting, sticky feeling that clung to his hands, even now.
He rinsed them once. Dried them off. Grabbed the sink. Swallowed down the bile that rose in his throat.
He rinsed them twice. Shut off the water. Sunk to the floor. Choked back the tears that burned in his eyes.
He rinsed them thrice.
A sharp knock broke the trance. “Cheng Xiaoshi?”
Cheng Xiaoshi couldn’t bring himself to respond; he didn’t have the energy to. He was rubbed raw in every way possible: stinging hands, swollen eyes, sore throat, shattered heart.
“Are you feeling sick?”
“Y-yeah.” His voice was hoarse and shaky. It wasn’t a lie; the memory made him sick.
“I can make you some ginger tea?”
Cheng Xiaoshi shook his head, even though Lu Guang couldn’t see him. His silence would be answer enough.
Lu Guang shuffled outside the bathroom door, lingering. “I… just… shout if you need anything?”
Another minute, and Lu Guang’s footsteps uncertainly thudded away.
A sick relief washed over Cheng Xiaoshi, the kind that feels both guilty and free. Now secure in the knowledge Lu Guang would not be witnessing his breakdown, he curled onto the ground, clutching his knees to his chest as he trembled.
He’d thought he was prepared to see his partner again— thought he could compartmentalize like always. But he wasn’t expecting the surge of conflicting emotions that crashed around him like a breaking wave the moment his and Lu Guang's eyes met.
Relief. Joy. Longing. Heartbreak. Anger. Betrayal. A bunch of other emotions he couldn’t name but were probably long and poetic.
Strongest of all, though, was simple grief.
“No, no, no, no—” Cheng Xiaoshi gasped for breath, trying desperately to think of a way to slow the bleeding. He pressed the palm of his hands to the wound, and they quickly became slick with blood. He pressed down harder, ignoring his shaking hands and Lu Guang’s grunt of pain.
Yet still Lu Guang
kept
bleeding.
Cheng Xiaoshi steadied his breathing and swallowed down the lump in his throat. He couldn't panic— not now. Not when Lu Guang needed him.
It would be fine.
Everything would be fine.
Lu Guang had survived the stab wound, and there had been a lot of blood then, too.
But not this much.
No where near this much.
There was just
too much.
He knew then with chilling certainty— his partner was going to die.
Cheng Xiaoshi grasped his head, pushing the memories down as he breathed through his pain.
He could get through this. He’d dealt with these before. As long as he breathed— as long as he remembered to breathe— it would be fine.
Weak and still somewhat disoriented, he leaned against the door, listening to Lu Guang shuffling around the studio; the muffled noise of their normal, daily life settling Cheng Xiaoshi bit by bit.
Yeah, it would be fine.
It had to be.
Eventually, he managed to peel himself off the floor and splashed some water on his face, attempting to wash away the evidence of his struggle. He glanced in the mirror; he looked like shit. But at least now his breathing was steady and his complexion slightly less pale. His eyes were still red, but he could just say he was sick.
If only he was just sick.
Taking a breath, he pushed open the door of the bathroom and was greeted by a silent studio. His heart thudded in his chest as he looked to the couch, then the counter.
Lu Guang… Lu Guang was gone. Where— where was—
Cheng Xiaoshi frantically pushed aside the dividing curtain between the studio and their sunroom, leaving it swinging wildly from the hooks.
Lu Guang’s slate-grey eyes rose to meet his, widened slightly in surprise. He was settled on the sunroom couch, book in hand and steaming mug on the coffee table. Two bowls of congee sat in front of him: one empty, one untouched.
Cheng Xiaoshi sighed. The adrenaline spike vanished as quickly as it arrived, but his heart still felt tense and cornered. He walked over to the coffee table, eyeing the tea and congee.
“Feeling better?” Lu Guang asked, reaching out to brush Cheng Xiaoshi’s arm.
Surprising even himself, Cheng Xiaoshi shied away from his touch. “Yeah.”
Cheng Xiaoshi kept his attention on the congee, ignoring the look of shock and hurt that flickered across Lu Guang’s face. By the time he could make eye contact again, Lu Guang had settled back into his usual, flat expression.
“Okay.” Lu Guang withdrew his hand, instead wrapping it around the mug in front of him. He observed Cheng Xiaoshi with weary eyes, searching for something.
Cheng Xiaoshi, in turn, considered Lu Guang. He looked so calm, like he wasn’t under an unbearable amount of stress. But if Cheng Xiaoshi looked closely, he could see the tiredness in the slope of Lu Guang’s shoulders and the worry in the crease on his brow.
Cheng Xiaoshi felt almost guilty for never noticing his partner’s exhaustion before— how the late nights would weigh on him, how his sleep evaded him. Guilty for never asking more.
Another, more petulant part of him, argued that he wasn’t a mind reader and that it was Lu Guang’s job to communicate, too. And besides, he’d never known Lu Guang when he hadn’t been tired.
Idly, he wondered what Lu Guang would’ve been like, back then. Before everything. Did he laugh more? Smile more? He’d never know. He’d never known Lu Guang. Not really.
And now he’d cycled back around to being angry. He turned away and flopped into the chair, trying both to be subtle and make his anger obvious, like a sulking child.
He wanted Lu Guang to think everything was fine; he wanted Lu Guang to notice he was mad.
He didn’t want Lu Guang to think he was mad at him; he was mad at him.
He wanted Lu Guang to ask what was wrong; he didn’t want to answer.
Cheng Xiaoshi’s head spun as his thoughts spiraled in increasingly unhelpful circles. He rubbed his temples and closed his eyes in an attempt to fight back the encroaching migraine, but his vision filled with red and the spiralling thoughts only got worse.
“Xiaoshi…” Lu Guang’s voice was thin and raspy. Lu Guang wasn’t supposed to sound like that. He was supposed to sound like— like—
“I made congee,” Lu Guang said, voice deep and warm, “if your stomach’s still upset.”
Cheng Xiaoshi’s eyes snapped open and he stared at Lu Guang, painted in the gold of a dying sunset, for a moment too long.
Lu Guang cleared his throat, the slighted hint of pink on his cheeks. He nodded to the congee, pointedly looking away.
Cheng Xiaoshi dropped his gaze. “Thanks,” he mumbled, and he slowly slid the bowl closer. He didn’t really want congee, but he also didn’t want much of anything, so congee did just fine.
As he ate, he could feel Lu Guang’s eyes return to him, tracking the listless motion of the spoon. “Are you… sure you’re okay?”
“‘M fine.” Cheng Xiaoshi shoved a spoonful of congee into his mouth so he didn’t have to answer any more questions.
Lu Guang was alive; he could see him breathing so clearly. But he hadn’t been. The peace that settled in the sunroom now was fragile; it could— and would— be broken into tiny fragments at a moment's notice. Cheng Xiaoshi could lose everything in less than a day— in less than an hour.
He shoved more congee in his mouth, but it was tasteless.
“Lu Guang—”
Lu Guang met his eyes, sharp and glinting with the expectation of… something.
Cheng Xiaoshi faltered as his words died in his throat. “It's nothing. Nevermind.”
Why should he tell Lu Guang? Lu Guang never told him. Lu Guang never told him anything. Ever.
Lu Guang had kept everything— all his struggles, all his doubts, all his feelings— locked away until he died in Cheng Xiaoshi’s arms and forced him to contented with the consequences. Lu Guang was selfish that way.
If he told Lu Guang now, Lu Guang might still list off the rules, hypocrite that he was. He might insist Cheng Xiaoshi go back.
Cheng Xiaoshi considered that thought. Would Lu Guang insist he return to a future where he was dead? Was that something he would do? Did he… want that?
A thin, pale hand wrapped around his wrist. Did it look paler than usual? Surely that was just the lighting, not—
“It’s okay,” Lu Guang said. “It’s okay, Xiaoshi. You’re alive, so it’s… okay.”
Cheng Xiaoshi’s heart stuttered in his chest. How… how was Lu Guang so calm?! Why did he sound almost… happy?
Cheng Xiaoshi set his bowl down. “I’m sorry. I’m not really hungry right now.”
“It’s okay,” Lu Guang said. “Why don’t you turn in early?”
Now that he was paying attention, Cheng Xiaoshi could hear the softness in his tone. He’d never noticed that before, either. Until it was too late.
Cheng Xiaoshi’s eyes traced over Lu Guang, trying to catch everything he’d missed the first time. The sun had sunk low in the sky, casting long, warm shadows which clung to Lu Guang even as the final rays of light gleamed in his hair. Something old and knowing glinted in his eyes, both empty and very, very full.
He truly looked unearthly. It wasn’t the first time Cheng Xiaoshi had thought that, but it was the first time he found himself questioning which kind of unearthly Lu Guang was. Divine or sinister? Both? Perhaps there wasn’t a difference.
Cheng Xiaoshi pulled his eyes away. “Yeah. I think I will.”
He couldn’t look at Lu Guang anymore.
He hauled himself up and unenthusiastically dragged himself up the stairs step by step. Lu Guang’s gaze burned into his back, but he refused to turn and face him. He had a feeling he would do something stupid if he did.
Robotically, Cheng Xiaoshi went through the hauntingly mundane motions of his nightly routine, trying desperately to shake the bloodsoaked sense of deja vu. He washed his hands again.
By the time Cheng Xiaoshi collapsed bonelessly onto his bed, facing the wall, the sky had turned truly dark. He tried not to think of the silent timer ticking down on his Dive. It didn’t matter, anyway.
He wasn’t going back.
A few minutes later, Lu Guang walked in, smelling of fresh laundry and cheap shampoo.
“I’m going to turn off the light, okay?”
It felt like he was asking something else.
Cheng Xiaoshi just hummed noncommittally.
Lu Guang let out a long-tired sigh and the lights clicked off, plunging the room into darkness. The bedframe creaked as he climbed to the upper bunk, Cheng Xiaoshi quietly relishing the noise he thought he’d never hear again.
The night dragged on as the two insomniacs laid in silence, each pretending to sleep. Eventually, the quiet noises from Lu Guang’s bunk faded and silence fell over the room.
Cheng Xiaoshi, however, was not finding sleep so easy. He rolled over, staring at the wall. Unsatisfied, he flipped the other way and gazed blankly at the empty room. He tossed off the blanket. Added more blankets. Flipped the pillow at least four times.
None of it mattered; when he closed his eyes, his mind flew back to the darkroom.
“Xiaoshi, I—” Lu Guang’s voice was hoarse, barely a whisper. “I need to tell you—”
Cheng Xiaoshi shook his head. “Tell me later.” He hated how Lu Guang’s voice sounded. Small. Resigned. “Save your breath.”
“No.” Lu Guang’s loose grip around Cheng Xiaoshi’s wrist tightened. “Xiaoshi, listen.”
The silence felt heavier in the dark.
It was quiet.
It was… too quiet.
Lu Guang… was on the top bunk, right?
He strained his ears, trying to catch the slightest hint of soft breathing or the shifting of bed sheets. But the room was only quiet.
He sat up, desperate to disprove the doubting thoughts that gnawed at his memories. He'd gone back; he'd seen Lu Guang, and he was here and breathing and alive. He knew that.
“Lu Guang?” Cheng Xiaoshi croaked out, surprised at how his voice scraped his throat.
He was met with silence.
He had gone back, right? He hadn't passed out from shock and dreamed the entire thing, right? He partner wasn't lying in a puddle of his own blood, dying the darkroom tiles red, red, red—
The bedframe creaked as the bunk above him shifted, a tired hum responding to his call.
He was so relieved he could cry.
A flash of white in the dark, peering over the edge of the bunk. “Cheng Xiaoshi?” He couldn't see Lu Guang's expression, but his voice made it clear it would be painted with worry.
Cheng Xiaoshi sniffled. “Y-yeah.”
Oh, he was actually crying.
“Nightmare?” Lu Guang asked.
Cheng Xiaoshi sniffed again, wiping away tears. Lu Guang was here. The past (the future?) may as well have been a bad dream. He nodded.
The bedframe shifted as Lu Guang began to descend the ladder, feet appearing on the upper rungs.
“N-no!” Cheng Xiaoshi blurted out.
Lu Guang froze. “No?”
Cheng Xiaoshi hastily wiped his eyes. “I’m fine,” he said. “Go back to sleep.”
He rolled back over on his side, facing the wall— away from Lu Guang.
It was absurd, but he didn't want to be comforted by Lu Guang. He was still mad. And sad. And more than a little bit confused.
In the silence that separated them, Cheng Xiaoshi could feel Lu Guang’s gaze heavy on his back; sharp, and far too observant.
“Okay.” Without another word, Lu Guang climbed back up the ladder.
⏮ ⏮ ⏮
Cheng Xiaoshi’s shallow dreams were confusing and coated in red. Eventually, he elected to forgo sleep entirely, greeting the early morning more exhausted than he’d ever been.
Had Diving always been this tiring? He felt as though his soul itself was being held taunt, strung between the past and present like a thin strand of yarn that was rapidly fraying.
Would it snap if he stayed here?
Would he care if it did?
He found he didn’t.
When he heard stirring from the top bunk, Cheng Xiaoshi dragged himself out of bed like a puppet on strings, mechanically going through their morning routine. Every step of the way, he was shadowed by Lu Guang, eyebags as prominent as ever.
Cheng Xiaoshi had the sinking suspicion Lu Guang was beginning to catch on. The more he tried to pretend he was fine, the clingier Lu Guang became.
Normally, he would relish the closeness, maybe even tease Lu Guang about it a little bit. But now, when he was hiding such a big secret, when he could feel the clock ticking down… it was suffocating.
Cheng Xiaoshi sighed and picked up some film to develop. Working in the darkroom would give him a chance to get away. Lu Guang wouldn’t follow him in, and he could quietly run out the time without the constant lingering and concerned stares.
If he could just spend these last few minutes in the darkroom, then, hopefully, Lu Guang wouldn’t figure it out until it was too late.
Maybe then the weight on Cheng Xiaoshi’s chest would vanish. Maybe then he could return to their normal lives.
“I’m going to develop some photos,” Cheng Xiaoshi said, pulling open the darkroom door. “Don’t—”
He froze as red light poured from the room and across Lu Guang’s face.
Lu Guang was… he was smiling.
“I did it, Xiaoshi.”
Cheng Xiaoshi stared as the tears dripped freely down his face. “Wh-what?”
“I dove back, so many times.” Lu Guang said. “It took so many tries. But now, I did it. You’re… you’re going to live.”
There— there was no way. No way Lu Guang had—
“Please, Xiaoshi.” His grip on Cheng Xiaoshi’s wrist was loosening. “Please live… for me.”
Cheng Xiaoshi felt a warm hand wrap around his wrist, snapping him back to the present.
“Cheng Xiaoshi—” Lu Guang's eyes looked desperate, swirling with the emotions he never let himself express.
Cheng Xiaoshi snapped his hand away, pulling it close to his chest. He couldn’t help it. If he closed his eyes, he could still see it—
“Wait, Lu Guang!” Cheng Xiaoshi clasped Lu Guang’s hand as it slipped from his wrist. “Don’t leave. Please, I hate being alone. You”— he choked down a sob— “you know that.”
The smile on Lu Guang’s face didn’t leave, but it became tinged with sadness.
“I'm sorry, Xiaoshi. I wanted… I promised to stay… as long as I could. But I… don't think I can stay… any longer. I'm… so tired.”
Lu Guang let out a shuddering breath as his eyes slipped closed.
“Cheng Xiaoshi! Cheng Xiaoshi!” Lu Guang’s hands hovered in front of him, desperate to reach out but wary of being pushed away again. “It’s alright. You’re okay. Please, just listen to me. Okay? Focus on me.”
Cheng Xiaoshi did. He focused on Lu Guang’s worried, slate-grey eyes, his tousled white hair, his guilt-ridded eyebags, his caring, warm hands as they reached forwards and grasped Cheng Xiaoshi’s cautiously— strongly.
“It’s okay. I’m here.”
“Lu… Lu Guang? Guang Guang?” He shook him, carefully at first, then with a bit more force. “You can’t— don’t do this to me!”
He felt it then: a power that wasn’t his slipped into his soul, pooling like cool water in the hole Lu Guang left behind. He could see it— all Lu Guang had done— how he had done it.
And he knew, for a fact, Lu Guang was gone.
Cheng Xiaoshi screamed.
Cheng Xiaoshi couldn’t take it anymore. He tugged Lu Guang towards him, clutching him to his chest desperately as he sobbed into his shoulder.
He felt Lu Guang tense, at first, before carefully— gently— wrapping his arms around him and rubbing soothing circles on his back.
Eventually, Cheng Xiaoshi pulled back. “I’m fine now,” he said. “You can—”
“Cheng Xiaoshi.” Lu Guang didn’t let go. His tone was equal parts gentle and severe as his grip tightened somewhat. “Tell me what’s going on. What are you doing?”
Cheng Xiaoshi flinched back. Did he know? He couldn’t know, right?
Frantically, he scrambled for an excuse. “Look, I’m just tired, okay?”
Still, Lu Guang considered him, expression even. His gaze drifted up and down Cheng Xiaoshi as if searching for something. He was silent long enough that Cheng Xiaoshi started to believe maybe he’d fooled him.
“You… aren’t supposed to be here, are you?”
For all his acting skills during a Dive, Cheng Xiaoshi had never been good at hiding his own heart, least of all from the person who knew him best— who had known him for years and years, longer than Cheng Xiaoshi had known. He stiffened, bottom lip trembling.
“You’re Diving.” Lu Guang said it like a statement of fact, refusing Cheng Xiaoshi the mercy of denial. “Since when?”
“Lu Guang…” Cheng Xiaoshi choked back a sob.
“The picture yesterday.” Lu Guang put the pieces together himself, and Cheng Xiaoshi’s heart dropped as he glanced at the clock. “There’s still time. You need to go back.”
Lu Guang lifted Cheng Xiaoshi’s hands in the start of a clap.
Panic seized Cheng Xiaoshi’s chest and he snatched his hands away, stumbling back. “No!” The distance between him and Lu Guang grew, step by step, until his back hit the cabinets. “I— Lu Guang, please!”
“Cheng Xiaoshi.” Lu Guang’s voice was cold and firm. He didn’t budge. “You know our rules.”
Cheng Xiaoshi’s hands curled into fists, nails digging into his palms. He didn’t understand— the hypocrite didn’t even understand what he was asking Cheng Xiaoshi to do.
“I don’t care.”
Lu Guang let out an exasperated sigh. “Cheng Xiaoshi—”
“I SAID I DON’T CARE! I DON’T CARE ABOUT YOUR STUPID RULES, LU GUANG!”
Lu Guang flinched back, shock flickering in his eyes before his expression hardened. “Those rules exist for a reason! You can’t just break them for”— he gestured towards Cheng Xiaoshi— “whatever this is!”
“I can and I will!” This wasn’t just some random whim! Why couldn’t Lu Guang just trust him?!
“Quit being stubborn!” Lu Guang stepped forward until there were mere inches between them. “Do you even understand what you’re doing?! What the consequences will be?!”
“I don’t care about the consequences!” He would pay any price— sacrifice all of himself— it didn’t matter.
Panic flashed across Lu Guang face, and he lunged forward, grabbing Cheng Xiaoshi by his shirt collar. “Don’t be stupid!” he growled. There was desperation tinting the edge of his voice. “Go! Back!”
Cheng Xiaoshi pushed him off, rage still roiling in his chest. “I won’t! You can’t make me!”
Lu Guang grit his teeth. “Just clap out, Cheng Xiaoshi.”
“No.”
Lu Guang lunged forward again, reaching for Cheng Xiaoshi’s hands, but Cheng Xiaoshi was faster. He dodged under Lu Guang’s panicked grasp, grabbing his wrists and spinning him around. Now it was Lu Guang with his back pinned to the cabinet, breath coming in short gasps.
“Cheng Xiaoshi…” he growled. “You don’t know what you’re doing. Just. Go. Home.”
Cheng Xiaoshi scoffed. Home? How was that desolate, bloodstained studio a home? “What home?”
Lu Guang stilled, confusion in his eyes. “What?”
“There is no home, Lu Guang!” Cheng Xiaoshi snapped, his grip tightening on Lu Guang’s wrists. His breath was coming quicker and he could feel tears at the corners of his eyes again but he didn’t care. “Qiao Ling’s gone! You’re gone! You left me, even after you promised— you promised—!”
Lu Guang winced. “I-I don’t understand.”
Staring into the baffled and fearful eyes of his best friend— his partner— Cheng Xiaoshi found he didn’t have the will to keep hiding.
“You died.” The admission came in a voice small, hollow, and worn.
Lu Guang’s breath caught. “I… what?”
“You died, Lu Guang! You bled out in my arms and you— I— I couldn’t—!” The tears were falling freely now, but he just didn’t care. “ALL I COULD DO WAS WATCH, AND YOU WERE SMILING, YOU— YOU—”
Cheng Xiaoshi choked on his emotions— on the intensity of all the rage, the sadness, the grief. He couldn’t hold it back anymore. The tears continued to fall and his breathing became more erratic.
Why?! Why did Lu Guang have to find out? Why couldn’t he just return to normal? Why did any of this have to happen at all?!
Cheng Xiaoshi stepped back, letting go of Lu Guang and grasping the front of his shirt, curling inwards as if he could somehow stim the flow of emotions pouring from his chest.
Lu Guang stepped forward. “Cheng—”
“I don’t— I can’t go back there. Please, please, Lu Guang, don’t make me go back to that empty studio. I can’t… leave you.”
“You… came back? For me?”
Cheng Xiaoshi nodded. Of course he did.
He wasn’t sure what he had expected, but it certainly wasn’t for guilt and terror to swirl in Lu Guang’s eyes. “You shouldn’t have,” he said in a small, fearful voice.
“You don’t get to tell me—!”
“You shouldn’t! You’ll get hurt! Those who break the laws of time pay the price and you… you shouldn't be here,” Lu Guang said, desperate, pleading.
“You can't make me leave, Lu Guang,” Cheng Xiaoshi growled. “I'm not leaving you to die!”
“But you should!”
Cheng Xiaoshi's heart dropped. Why…?
“I don’t understand.” His voice quivered. He was afraid to understand. He was afraid he did understand.
“You’re alive. You should go back and live. That’s… my only wish. I’m not really alive, anyway.” Lu Guang smiled, but it wasn’t a true smile— not really. It was that same smile he wore when he… when he…
Cheng Xiaoshi grit his teeth. “That’s not true. Don’t lie to me.”
Lu Guang shook his head. “Cheng Xiaoshi, I-I’m not really… For years, I’ve been… Since the beginning, I—”
“You're trapped in a time loop trying to save me. I know.”
“Y-you… you do?” Lu Guang blinked in surprise, his eyes glinting with unshed tears.
“You told me. While you were…” Cheng Xiaoshi wrapped his arms around himself in an attempt to chase away the chill that crawled up his spine. “You have fucking awful timing, you know that?”
“And you still… came back?” Lu Guang looked genuinely confused, the bastard. “Why?”
Cheng Xiaoshi hated him a little for that. For being so difficult about this. For refusing to understand.
“What, you can break the rules for me but I can't do the same for you?!”
“I’m not…” Lu Guang’s hands curled into fists— “worth it…”
“YOU DON’T GET TO DECIDE THAT!” Cheng Xiaoshi snapped. Lu Guang meant more to him than the whole world, how dare he talk about himself like that?! How dare he— how dare he— how dare he—!
Lu Guang pressed himself against the cabinet, trying to put more space between him and Cheng Xiaoshi than physically possible. “I’m a hypocrite, a liar, and a failure!”
“Don’t say that!” Cheng Xiaoshi grasped Lu Guang’s shoulders and shook him, as if he could shake those thoughts out of his partner’s head. “You can’t say that about yourself!”
“But it’s true! I’ve been lying to you since the beginning and no matter what I do, no matter how hard I try, I can’t save you!” Lu Guang stared up at Cheng Xiaoshi, and realization flashed in his eyes. “Except, this time… I guess I did.”
Lu Guang’s expression… was terrifying. It was a little too hopeful— a little too desperate. It chilled Cheng Xiaoshi to his core.
“Don't tell me— you didn't— you wouldn't— you don't actually want to die, right, Lu Guang?”
Lu Guang looked down, avoiding Cheng Xiaoshi’s eyes. Lu Guang… was silent.
“L-Lu Guang…” Cheng Xiaoshi’s grip tightened, and a new fear— a fear he never thought he’d have— coursed through his veins. “It’s not worth it! You shouldn’t kill yourself to save me!”
“You have a life, Cheng Xiaoshi! You have people who love you, people you’re waiting for. But without you, I… I don’t have anything.” Lu Guang reached up and grasped his wrists, eyes still shaded by his bangs. “Everything I have you gave me.”
“That’s not—!”
“You— you left me all alone.” Lu Guang's grip on his wrist tightened. “I was alone, Cheng Xiaoshi. I— you know how it feels. To be alone. Abandoned. So why?”
There was a pause as Lu Guang took a shuddering breath, before finally looking up and meeting Cheng Xiaoshi's gaze. Tears trailed down his face, eyes red-rimmed and swimming with grief and desperation.
“WHY DID YOU LEAVE ME? ABANDON ME? YOU KNOW IT HURTS SO WHY—”
Lu Guang broke off into a sob, trembling in Cheng Xiaoshi’s grasp.
Cheng Xiaoshi’s heart shook from the pressure of it all. His heartbreak, his fear, his desperate want to comfort Lu Guang warring with feelings of betrayal. He couldn’t take much more of this.
Cheng Xiaoshi pulled him close, so close their noses were touching, forcing Lu Guang to look him in the eyes. Lu Guang couldn’t run from this. Cheng Xiaoshi wouldn’t let him get away. He had to see— to understand.
“That’s no excuse! You can’t just leave me! You promised me! You promised me you would stay! So why?! WHY ARE YOU TRYING TO LEAVE ME?!”
Lu Guang stiffened. “I… I don’t want to. But I… I was supposed to die—”
“NO! YOU CAN’T! I WON’T LET YOU DIE!” He grasp tightened.
“But I… I can’t let you die, either! Cheng Xiaoshi”— Lu Guang’s voice was raw— “Please don’t make me watch you die again. I can’t— I can’t—!”
Lu Guang hiccupped as tears continued to roll down his face. The lump in Cheng Xiaoshi’s throat prevented him from speaking.
Instead, they just stood there in silence, out of breath and teary. It seemed they had run out of things to say— of everything they could say.
Lu Guang glanced at the clock and pushed against Cheng Xiaoshi’s chest without any force.
“Please, Cheng Xiaoshi. Please go back.”
“I won't. You can't make me.”
Lu Guang’s slate grey eyes stared blankly into his own, tired and resigned. “I really can’t, can I?”
“Yeah. You can’t.” Cheng Xiaoshi felt the timer tick to zero. He could sense the power recede— his tether to that terrible timeline snap.
Suddenly exhausted, he collapsed to the floor. Lu Guang let out a strangled cry and reached out, catching him and slowly sinking to the floor with him. They stayed like that, in silence, for a while.
He was exhausted, but he’d done it. He’d Dived back and he would be staying back. Lu Guang was alive and he would be staying alive. At least for as long as Cheng Xiaoshi had anything to say about it.
Eventually, he manage to find the strength to lift his arms, wrapping them around Lu Guang and pulling him closer, until he could feel his heartbeat against his chest.
“Lu Guaaaaang,” he hummed, just because he could. Because he wanted to feel the shape of his partner’s name on his tongue.
Lu Guang’s huff ruffled his hair. “Cheng Xiaoshi.”
Cheng Xiaoshi’s grip tightened somewhat. Hearing his name like that now felt… wrong. The care— the closeness— from the night that hadn’t happened (not yet) still echoed in his heart.
He was embarrassed to ask, but… he was allowed this, right? If time could be so short, he should ask.
“You… you called me Xiaoshi, as you were…” Cheng Xiaoshi swallowed. “Can you—”
Lu Guang pulled him even closer, arms looped around his waist. “Xiaoshi…” Desperation and sorrow dripped from each syllable. “Xiaoshi.”
Ah. Lu Guang really did love him.
And he loved Lu Guang.
He wasn’t sure why that had just occurred to him now. It wasn’t like he’d ever doubted it, even if he never said it. It was just… with all the evidence laid out in front of him, it was obvious to the point of absurdity.
Cheng Xiaoshi was going back for Lu Guang. Lu Guang was going back for Cheng Xiaoshi.
They would do anything for each other except state the obvious.
“We’re idiots,” Cheng Xiaoshi said, on the verge of laughing despite the tears in his voice. “What are we even doing?”
He still didn’t say it. Didn’t need to.
“Dying?” Lu Guang’s response was dry. It seemed he understood what fools they were, too.
Cheng Xiaoshi let himself laugh, however dark the joke, because damn it he needed this. He pulled Lu Guang closer.
Maybe, just maybe, they could get through this now that they were together.
He had to hope so.
He hoped Lu Guang believed in them, too.