Work Text:
god i could try
to be the one, to be the one
i’ll tear down the sky!
what do you want?
i’ll do it all for life
my love, my alibi
tonight
tonight, i’ll try to do it for you
- - -
The rain is slapping against the ground in Ghost City as lightning flashes overhead. The thunder is loud enough to make the walls of Paradise Manor tremble.
It’s dark in the library. Walls of books fade into the darkness around Hua Cheng, standing at the window. The only light comes in the form of abrupt, disorienting flashes, illuminating his silhouette. He’s watching the storm, lost in thought. His defenses - hypervigilance - are down, and he doesn’t notice the figure standing behind him.
Or maybe he does, but he just doesn’t care.
They stand there for what feels like an age.
Finally, He Xuan speaks. “You called?”
This gets a reaction. Hua Cheng half turns around, surprise evident on his face as more flashes of lightning display his features sharply - all hard lines, no softness. It’s wrong, and unsettling. He Xuan shifts uneasily.
“I called you?”
Oh. He Xuan forces his body to remain still, face completely neutral. Blank. Empty.
Somehow, though, Hua Cheng can always tell. “Didi,” he says, taking a step toward He Xuan.
He Xuan doesn’t breathe. Doesn’t trust himself to breathe normally right now.
Except, the silence is going on for too long. Hua Cheng is waiting for him to say something. He has to breathe in order to use his voice.
He Xuan takes a very slow, very normal, very controlled breath. “It’s alright,” he said. “You were probably- or I-”
“I was dreaming,” says Hua Cheng. One of his canines catches on his lower lip. His next words are so soft they are barely audible. “I didn’t realize I called you.”
“It’s alright,” He Xuan says again, taking a half step back, starting to turn away from Hua Cheng. “I’ll just-”
“You came,” says Hua Cheng, unmoving.
He Xuan freezes. He looks back up at Hua Cheng. “I… yes,” he says.
Hua Cheng’s eyes flutter closed and he releases a long sigh.
Shame bursts behind He Xuan’s eyes as he turns again to leave. He must seem so desperate, so clingy - showing up on Hua Cheng’s doorstep the moment he sends even the slightest message, not even awake - not even intentionally -
Hua Cheng is hugging him.
Hua Cheng is hugging him.
Hua Cheng is hugging him and leaning more and more of his weight on He Xuan, not speaking, not moving - is he shaking?
He Xuan staggers toward the nearest reading nook - a daybed surrounded by soft pillows and a stack of blankets (He Xuan still isn’t sure why one person needs multiple reading nooks in their own library) - and pulls Hua Cheng, who is still not releasing his grip around He Xuan’s shoulders, onto the bed.
Hua Cheng finally leans back a bit so He Xuan can see his face. He’s not crying, like He Xuan expected. Is he laughing?
“Ugh,” says He Xuan. “You’re messing with me. I’m leaving.” He moves to get off the bed, but a hand darts out to grab his upper arm.
“No,” Hua Cheng says, something like panic flashing across his eyes. “Please don’t leave.”
He Xuan stares at him for a moment. Is he really scared? “Okay,” he says finally, sitting back down.
Hua Cheng scoots up the bed to sit next to him. He pulls his knees to his chest and doesn’t say anything.
He Xuan watches him, also not speaking. It feels wrong to stare, somehow, at this version of Hua Cheng who seems small and vulnerable. Hua Cheng is not small and vulnerable. But it’s not the first time He Xuan has seen this. It’s certainly not a common occurrence by any means, but not nonexistent. Which is why He Xuan came immediately when he heard Hua Cheng call his name in that voice. The panicked one. The one he used when he was terrified.
In an attempt to stay present but stop staring, He Xuan shifts slightly and puts his head on Hua Cheng’s shoulder. It’s not a natural or familiar movement for him (not anymore, not for centuries, not since before) but he just pretends like it is (he is an actor, after all) and he feels Hua Cheng relax just a little bit beside him, so it’s worth it.
They sit together in silence for a long time, and then Hua Cheng shifts and his head is resting on He Xuan’s, like He Xuan’s head is in a Hua Cheng sandwich or something. He Xuan forces himself to stay still - and relaxed; Hua Cheng will know if he tenses up at all and then he’ll leave and they won’t be touching anymore-
“What were you dreaming about?” he asks, the words already halfway out of his mouth before he realizes he’s speaking.
Hua Cheng lets out a long breath, and He Xuan regrets asking. But he forces himself not to take it back, because maybe, if he waits long enough, and if he’s very, very, lucky, Hua Cheng might tell him.
The moments pass slowly.
Hua Cheng doesn’t really tell him, in the end. “The worst moment of my life,” he says softly. “The day I became a Wrath.”
Ah. He Xuan knows enough to have figured out that the worst moment of Hua Cheng’s life had something to do with his flower prince. His god. His beloved.
He Xuan knows that he is only a stand-in for Hua Cheng’s god. He is a placeholder; a poor substitute that Hua Cheng will make do with until he finds his god. His beloved.
Ghost kings don’t really need to sleep. At least, not every night. He Xuan rarely sleeps, and he suspects that Hua Cheng is the same. They avoid sleeping to avoid the nightmares. No one could become a ghost king without more than their fair share of nightmares.
But sometimes, with existences as long as theirs, as miserable as theirs, a ghost king needs to sleep only to not be awake anymore. To be unconscious. To not have to exist for a little while.
He Xuan understands.
“You sounded terrified,” He Xuan says. It’s something he would normally say, with a flat, almost sarcastic tone of voice. But this time he says it softly. Seriously. Gently.
Hua Cheng turns his head and He Xuan feels him plant a kiss in He Xuan’s hair. Then he pulls away, forcing He Xuan to stop leaning on him and He Xuan tries not to think about it too hard.
But then Hua Cheng is staring directly into his eyes. The storm is starting to die down, and the moon is finally out from behind the clouds, and He Xuan can see, behind some loose hair, one black and one red eye boring holes into his soul. He Xuan has always loved when Hua Cheng wears the red eye. He wonders if Hua Cheng donned this skin especially for him tonight. He almost smiles.
“I was terrified,” Hua Cheng says. He looks like he might be about to say something else, and He Xuan waits for a long time, but no more words come.
Without thinking about it too much - well, pretending he isn’t thinking about it too much - He Xuan reaches out and gently brushes Hua Cheng’s loose hair behind his ear, so he can see those beautiful eyes more clearly. Hua Cheng’s eyes flick to He Xuan’s arm, then back to his face. He Xuan drops his arm.
“I… wanted you,” Hua Cheng says, eyes looking not directly at him now, like Hua Cheng is staring into the distance behind his head.
“You have me,” He Xuan says softly.
Hua Cheng’s eyes refocus on his face with a small gasp. Lips parted. Eyes wide.
“I’m here,” He Xuan says, pulling bravery and confidence out of thin air. Or maybe he’s just acting. Acting braver and more confident than he is, because that’s what Hua Cheng needs right now. He doesn’t need to deal with He Xuan’s - his -
It’s fine. It doesn’t matter.
Hua Cheng’s lips are trembling. His eyes are shining. Is he going to cry?
He Xuan doesn’t understand why he can’t do anything right.
Hua Cheng reaches forward, his arms wrapping around He Xuan’s shoulders, pulling him closer before his brain even processes that the touch is happening. Hua Cheng’s soft, warm lips are pressed to his forehead, and then Hua Cheng’s forehead is pressed against his, and there’s - Hua Cheng is crying now-
“God, I love you,” Hua Cheng whispers, forehead still against He Xuan’s, eyes closed, tears streaming down his face.
God.
Of course. His god. He’s thinking about his god.
“S-sorry,” He Xuan whispers.
Hua Cheng pulls back immediately, looking up at his face. “Why are you sorry?” he asks, sounding cautious.
“That I’m not - I’m not-” he can’t finish the sentence. He feels pathetic.
Hua Cheng rubs his hands up and down He Xuan’s arms, still looking at him with that cautious, confused expression.
“I could try,” He Xuan says quickly. “I could - if you want- I could be-” He shuts his mouth. It’s blasphemous. How dare he even consider it. Him, disgusting thing that he is, pretend to be Hua Cheng’s god?
Hua Cheng doesn’t stop running his hands up and down He Xuan’s arms. “He Xuan,” he says softly, “I love you. Just the way you are.”
Words fail He Xuan.
Him? Hua Cheng loves him? He loves him? He -
“Will you stay?” Hua Cheng asks, not waiting for He Xuan to say it back, or not. He doesn’t look worried about it. “Just for tonight, I mean. And, of course, any time after that, any time you want, I just- I don’t want to be-”
Alone. The word hangs in the air between them.
He Xuan finally finds his words again. “I’ll stay,” he says. Then, before he can change his mind, he scoots down to lie flat on the bed, and tugs on Hua Cheng’s sleeve.
It’s not the first time they’ve done this, and Hua Cheng needs no further prompting to simply drape himself on top of He Xuan.
For the first time that night, He Xuan feels the tension finally leave his body as he melts into the bed with his own, perfect, warm weighted blanket sprawled across him. His eyes slip closed almost immediately. He has never told Hua Cheng this before, but he suspects Hua Cheng knows that this is the only way he has been able to sleep in centuries. And he is tired.
Sleep comes to him easily, and tonight, he doesn’t dream.