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Another battle won, another victory banquet held. If Xiaolongbao were younger, perhaps he'd be more willing to socialize. Instead, he simply downed another glass, losing track of the number, and stood on unsteady feet, seeking a respite from the endless noise.
The cool night air felt pleasant on his face, and for a brief moment, Xiaolongbao thought about those that should have been by his side. The thought burned him, though, and Xiaolongbao felt his hand itch for another drink.
"Xiaolongbao Cookie."
If there was anything in the world that could keep him from going back inside, it was that voice.
"We need to talk."
Two years had passed, and yet Cirrus hadn't aged a day. Perhaps it was the constant dying and reviving, sending him back to the day before over and over again. He had perched himself on the railing, piercing gaze locked onto Xiaolongbao, as if his stare alone could prevent him from leaving.
Forcing himself to speak, Xiaolongbao cleared his throat. "Get down from there first, I can't talk to you if yer down in a trench." He huffed, fighting the emotion spreading into his tone like a weed.
Cirrus didn't answer verbally, but lept from the railing with a practiced elegance, landing just out of sight from the large doors leading back to the banquet hall.
Xiaolongbao's chest ached, and his hands once again itched to reach for a drink.
"Have you had correspondence with Longjing Tea Cookie lately?" Cirrus asked, his tone uncharacteristically cautious.
"I ain't telling the pact nothing."
"The pact isn't asking. This is a personal matter."
Xiaolongbao furrowed his brow, but couldn't find a lie in Cirrus's typical blank expression. Slowly, he took a breath, and let himself answer. "We haven't spoken much these last couple years."
"Is that to say you've had no correspondence at all?"
"… He sent me a letter, last week. I haven't opened it."
Cirrus rarely emoted, but even Xiaolongbao caught the way his breath hitched. "I'm guessing you know what's in it, though?"
Cirrus wasn't looking at him anymore. He had turned to face the night sky, letting his long white hair hide his expression. "… Where do you think I came from?"
"Why should I care? You're some supersoldier the pact made, ain't ya? Does it matter where they got the body?" Xiaolongbao shrugged, leaning over the railing and absently gesturing for Cirrus to do the same. "Longjing… Someone important to us went missing a while back. He never gave up trying to find him. In the end, it drove us apart."
Cirrus took his place next to him, but stayed quiet for a long moment. "… This has more to do with me than you think-"
"I know." Xiaolongbao's voice turned warm, comforting. "It's you, isn't it? I- well, I always had a feeling."
Cirrus's expression twisted, a strange mix of relief and discomfort rolled into one. "N-No, I'm not. Not- Not exactly." He gripped the railing, knuckles white as he breathed slowly, as if working through some sort of nausea. "… Nimbus Cake Cookie is dead. I don't know what they did to him, and I don't want to. I just know that they did something, something that broke him so they could build me out of the pieces."
Xiaolongbao searched him, the troubled expression and dull eyes hiding just a dash of azure underneath, as much as he tried, he couldn't divorce the image from his lover— not completely.
"Wait," Cirrus looked up at him, "if you knew, why did you never try to find him?"
Xiaolongbao shrugged. "Because I know him. If he was alive, he would find us again. And if he didn't, it was because he didn't want to be found." He looked back at the sky, a deep melancholy seeping into his gentle smile. "And if he's dead, let him rest. Gods know he never did it while he was alive."
Cirrus tried to follow his gaze, but found himself looking down instead, watching the frigid river below as it rushed past the jagged rocks bursting through the water. "… I remember some things. Bits and pieces of his life, but not all of it. I remember you two the most."
"I don't want to go speculating, but I'd think it's because those are some of the only good memories he's got." Xiaolongbao hummed. "Everyone remembers him as this great and noble heir, gone too soon, and that's how he'd want to be remembered, of course. But behind the curtain… He was pretty miserable. Lotta unsavory stuff happened in that house, Longjing and I only heard a fraction of it."
Cirrus felt a tug in his chest, one he didn't quite recognize and didn't quite understand, begging him to perform some unknown action— some kind of leftover instinct for a purpose he could no longer remember.
"Whatever the pact put him through, maybe the reason he lasted so long was because it wasn't as different as we all thought." Xiaolongbao shook his head. "But that's just speculation. I don't think it's right to say seriously."
Cirrus didn't speak for a long while, the warm silence between making the tug only grow harsher.
"… Longjing needs you. He's falling apart because of this. He doesn't believe me when I say I'm not him." Cirrus fought past the lump in his throat to speak again. "He- He needs help. I can't be the one to help him. Please, help him."
Whatever expression Xiaolongbao was wearing, Cirrus couldn't see it, and it took him an embarrassingly long moment to realize his eyes were screwed shut, desperately holding back tears.
"… Cirrus Cutter Cookie." Xiaolongbao placed a hand on his shoulder. "At least tell me this. Why do you, a general of the Umbral Pact, our enemy, care so much about this?"
Cirrus's breath caught in his throat. He couldn't deny it here, not like this. "… There's only one part of him that survived, I think. That part that makes me still love you. Even- Even if we're enemies, I can't stand to see either of you suffer like this."
"I'm not suffering."
"How many drinks have you had tonight?"
Xiaolongbao's hand itched.
"Point taken."
Cirrus forced himself to turn away, forced himself to grip the railing, forced himself to stay completely still and focus on the cold night air and—
Xiaolongbao's arms were warm. Tucked in the corner of the balcony, behind the doors and out of sight, the embrace felt like a safety blanket, and the tugging finally subsided. So this is what his heart wanted, it seemed, and even Cirrus couldn't resist melting into Xiaolongbao's arms like he had done it a hundred times, struggling only not to break down completely.
"… I'll look after him." Xiaolongbao whispered, stroking his hair softly, lovingly. "I promise."
Cirrus buried his face in the soft fabric of his clothing, letting his shoulders tremble where he couldn't be heard, and realized with a subdued sort of horror that for the first time, he found himself wishing he could go back to that old life, if not just to seek out the love and comfort he had been missing.
Neither of them were sure how long they stood there, silently indulging in something long forgotten, but by the time they parted the party had gone quiet and the banquet lights were being put out, the guests slowly making their way to bed.
"You should go." Cirrus pulled away first. "Before someone notices."
"Wait-!" Before he could stop himself, Xiaolongbao reached out to take Cirrus's hand. "I… Will I get to see you again?"
Cirrus had never looked at him with such pain in his eyes. "If you do, it'll be in battle."
Xiaolongbao could only squeeze his hand, a quiet voice in his head telling him to do something, anything to keep him from leaving again.
"I'm sorry, Xiaolongbao Cookie. Please, just… Forget about me, okay? My memory will only hurt you." Cirrus's voice wavered slightly, climbing up onto the railing. "… I love you." He admitted quietly, and jumped without waiting for a response.
When Xiaolongbao looked over the edge, however, his body was already gone.
It had to be past midnight when Xiaolongbao finally opened that letter, head still spinning from the interaction with Cirrus now hours ago, trying to make sense of what to do next.
When he caught sight of the contents of the letter, though, Xiaolongbao's heart dropped.
There were pictures clipped at random to the papers, mad, incoherent scrawlings across the pages in dark, smudged ink. At the very bottom of the last page was the only thing Xiaolongbao could make sense of— 'I found him, my love, and I'm going to bring him home to us.'
Xiaolongbao's hands were shaking when he set the letter down, already reaching for his travel bag. Cirrus was right, in the end. Longjing needed him.
Recalling their embrace, Xiaolongbao could only hope Cirrus would realize on his own that he needed them too.