Chapter Text
It all came as fits and starts to him. Not that he knew what it exactly was. But he didn't have to. Part of him knew, the feeling was all that mattered. Even though his three-year old brain couldn't quite yet comprehend the weight of it, it felt nice. It felt like cradling the stray cat he'd found beat up near the dumpster. It felt like being the world for someone. Three year old Hong Hong-er didn't think he could ever be that to someone. That made it all the more precious.
Waking up in his mother’s arms, Hong Hong-er, for once, felt good. As if the sun wasn't shining down on his poverty stricken, bandaged, malnourished body lying in a sad excuse of a cot. As if he hadn't gone to bed absolutely starving for the past few days. As if he didn't have an alcoholic excuse of a father who spent his wages on cheap bottles of beer and complained about the lack of money by beating up his mother. As if all was well.
His surprisingly good mood was however brought to a very abrupt end when he noticed his mother’s laboured breath. For a moment, he just stared at her, not quite understanding what to do.
“Mama?”
Hong-er tried to gently caress her cheek. It was warm. She was warm. Why was she warm? Was she always this warm? Hong-er didn't know. In the end he decided that he didn't feel very great about his mother refusing to wake up and being too warm.
“Mama, wake up!” He urged the sleeping figure of his mother. His frail arm had no strength and it barely moved her at all. With every passing second, Hong Hong-er grew agitated. He wanted his mother. And his brain decided that crying will fix everything.
The wail that rose from his throat was visceral. The alley only echoed his screams back at him. There was no one around to heed to his cry. It was too early in the morning. And the alley way was too secluded. His brain was yet to understand that he wasn't home. He didn't register the lack of a roof over his head or the cot he used to sleep in. They didn't matter when he had his mama. But what mattered was that his mother wasn't soothing him. Why was she still sleeping? Hong Hong-er needed to hear her gentle voice and feel safe in her arms. No one else would do.
In panic, Hong-er ran. He vaguely remembered his mother telling him to run and never look back if something happened to her. Surely that would wake her up?
He hadn't even set foot onto the road at the mouth of the alley when his misfortune caught up with him. He ran straight into an older boy and fell on his knees, scraping them. Curled up on the pavement, with loose gravel poking at his skin, he waited for the harsh scolding. It never came.
“Oh I'm so sorry! I wasn't looking where I was going! Here little guy, let me help you up”, the boy crouching infront of him said in a soft voice. Hong-er blinked. Then he was afraid to ever close his eyes again. The boy infront of him was ethereal. An easy smile was painted on his face. His coffee brown hair was a lovely stark contrast to the sharp glowing amber of his eyes. And looked oh so fluffy>Before Hong Hong-er could stop himself, he jumped into the arms of the older angel and melted against the soft sweater clad chest. The boy flinched in surprise but didn't push him off.
“Are you ok? It looked like you fell down pretty hard. Can I see your knees?”
Hong Hong-er instinctively decided to never deny the boy anything. It was a gut feeling. He could neither understand nor care why. He wanted the boy to keep smiling at him. He did not protest when the boy moved him gently so that he was sitting on the boy's lap.
“Oh my god. That looks bad. Does it hurt? I'm so sorry! I can't dress wounds, Mu Qing’s mama always does it for me. Do you mind if I take you home? We can get it nice and clean and bandag-”
Hong Hong-er suddenly remembered his own mother at the mention of someone else’s and sobbed into the boy’s shoulder. “Mama!!”
The dread of his mother never waking up won against the appeal of the comfort of being in the older boy’s arms and Hong Hong-er dragged himself out of his grasp. The older boy let Hong Hong-er grab his sleeve and pull him in the direction of the alley. “Help my mama!”
The boy’s eyes went wide and he just managed to scoop Hong Hong-er into his arms and get back on his feet before a man yelled at him. “Xie Lian!!”
Both the boys turned to look at the man running towards them. Hong Hong-er didn't know what the outfit he was wearing was called but he dubbed it the “martial arts outfit with a jacket on top”. He briefly wondered if gege, if he was ever allowed to call him that, was also into martial arts.
“That's my Goushi. He'll help.” Gege whispered into his mess of a mop of hair before calling out to his Goushi. For the first time in his three years of life, Hong Hong-er felt lucky. He didn't bother listening to Gege and Goushi’s conversation with the warm feeling of being loved filled him. Three year old Hong-er didn't know that acts of kindness wasn't exactly loving someone. He'd never had someone be kind to him afterall.
Before he realised it the three of them where running into the dark alley. Hong-er didn't know the way, he hadn't paid attention. But Gege remained kind and promised him that they'll find her and help her.
And they did.
Hong Hong-er watched as Gege’s Goushi called someone on the phone while Gege tried to care for his mama. “She's just running a fever, little guy”, Gege soothed him. “She'll be alright. Don't you worry.”
Hong Hong-er nodded. He felt better already. When an angel tells you it's going to be alright, it will be alright.
“The ambulance is on it's way”, Gege’s Goushi said.
Gege nodded. Then he turned to face Hong Hong-er. “What's your name, little guy?”
“Mama calls me Hong Hong-er.”
“Hong-er. That's such a cute name. And ofcourse you're cute too! I don't have a cute name like you though, Hong-er. My name is Xie Lian.”
Hong Hong-er couldn't help himself. Instead of repeating his name he blurted out, “Gege.”
He held his breath as Gege’s easy smile broke out into a grin. “Gege sounds perfect!”
Hong Hong-er didn't remember much of what happened after. He and his mama ended up in the hospital for a week. He remembers something about a social worker. He remembers his mother fighting with someone about not putting him in the orphanage. He remembers his mother showing him a one room cottage of sorts. He remembers the first day she left him in a “Daycare”. He remembers everyone hating him in the Daycare.
But most of all, he remembered that he no longer got to see Gege.