Work Text:
Cheng Xiaoshi lay there on the floor, submerged in a pool of his own blood. The sparkle that had always shone so brightly in his eyes was now beginning to fade, as Lu Guang watched in horror. Lu Guang held the hand that the older man had weakly raised, hoping for one last touch from his best friend. Lu Guang had, of course, rushed to take it, so he could feel Cheng Xiaoshi’s warm skin before he passed away and his hand grew as cold as the younger man’s sorrow.
The dark-haired man’s lips parted slightly, and a thin trickle of blood escaped. With his last ounce of strength, he squeezed Lu Guang’s hand, hoping to convey even a fraction of the gratitude he felt for their many shared memories—memories tinged with happiness. He wanted the pale-skinned man to know that he had no regrets, that all those days by his side had filled him with joy, and that, if he had the chance to start all over again, he wouldn’t change a thing. However, Lu Guang was going to start all over again. He had promised himself that.
Their eyes met, and their gazes locked. Cheng Xiaoshi wanted to make sure that Lu Guang was the last thing he saw before he died. Lu Guang wanted to hope—at this point—to cling to just a few more seconds, just to etch his best friend’s gentle face into his memory one last time before his friend forgot him forever. Before Lu Guang had to start all over again. And, instead of a long, moving monologue, all Cheng Xiaoshi could manage to say was:
- I'm sorry...
Lu Guang shook his head, tears welling up in his eyes. He wanted to say that he didn't need to be sorry, that it was his own fault, that he hadn't been able to change the past, that he had failed once again to save him. Yes, the only one to blame was himself, not Cheng Xiaoshi.
But he said nothing. He knew Cheng Xiaoshi too well to realize that he wasn’t finished yet. So he simply watched the scene unfold, powerless, as he always had been. Again and again, he watched his best friend die without having the power to change anything.
- Save them...
Of course, he remained true to himself. Always thinking of others even as he was the one dying. As the strength in the older man’s grip waned, the light in his eyes faded, and the touch between their two hands grew cold, Lu Guang couldn’t help but let out a silent laugh. Not the kind of laughter he was—sometimes—used to sharing with Cheng Xiaoshi, no; this one was cold, desperate, tinged with uncontrollable grief. Because yes, no matter how many times Lu Guang started over from the beginning, no matter how many plans he’d spent entire months devising, no matter how much willpower and courage he displayed, Cheng Xiaoshi inevitably ended up dying.
Cheng Xiaoshi’s final wish coursed through their bodies, and Lu Guang felt his best friend’s power take hold of him. On the rare occasions when he had caught himself hoping that Cheng Xiaoshi wouldn’t pass his power on to him, he had realized it was a real burden, and he hated imposing it on his best friend while they were carrying out their missions. However, he had no way of doing it himself beyond the twelve hours allotted at the start of each timeline.
He quickly pulled himself together. No. He was Lu Guang. He had to save Cheng Xiaoshi. Again and again, until he succeeded, no matter how long it took. He must not falter. Even if he sometimes felt himself faltering, he quickly regained his composure and remained strong—for Cheng Xiaoshi’s sake. He could no longer afford to make any mistakes: every trip back in time caused irreversible damage to his mind and body.
After what seemed like an eternity, Lu Guang let go of his best friend’s hand. The cold skin he had been holding just seconds before didn’t match Cheng Xiaoshi’s sunny personality at all, and seeing him there, lying motionless and dead, was driving Lu Guang mad. He wasn’t supposed to end up like this. They weren’t supposed to end up like this. It wasn’t supposed to end. Their story wasn’t supposed to end. And Lu Guang was ready to start it all over again as many times as it took.
Lu Guang’s arms fell limply at his sides. With his knees pressed against the floor, his pants were covered in blood—his own blood. At first, Lu Guang couldn’t bear it. His best friend’s blood, clinging to his skin, had made him feel as though he were being swallowed up by the torments of darkness and paralyzed, condemned to eternal suffering and the ever-present nightmare of that bitter sensation that would haunt him forever, like the burden of his own regrets. By now, he had been drenched in Cheng Xiaoshi’s blood so many times that he no longer paid it any mind. His goal, above all else, was to save him.
He got up mechanically and went to open the door behind which he had locked them. He left the cursed room and dragged himself to his office. He slumped into his chair, as if his shoulders had been bearing the weight of the entire world for far too long. The weight of his entire world. Lu Guang was tired. He was tired of trying, over and over again, without ever succeeding. He was tired of reliving, every single time, Cheng Xiaoshi’s death and their first meeting. Because every time, the younger one was the only one who remembered his best friend. And it hurt him when he met Cheng Xiaoshi’s distant gaze as the other boy asked him to play basketball. And Lu Guang was weak, because he always said yes.
He had already considered refusing. Perhaps if he kept his distance from Cheng Xiaoshi, the latter would no longer be doomed to an early death. But Lu Guang was vulnerable around Cheng Xiaoshi, and although he knew this, he was ashamed to admit defeat to his one weakness. So he always accepted that outstretched hand, his nose always bleeding, and although he was unable to set aside his own feelings and follow reason, he would do anything for his best friend. So much so that, at times, he was afraid Cheng Xiaoshi wouldn’t realize that the younger boy loved him at least as much as his best friend did, despite his cold demeanor and his efforts not to grow even more attached to the dark-haired boy. He had obviously failed, but he was afraid to confess everything to his best friend. He was afraid that his courage would be useless if he failed once again to save him. Managing to speak was one thing, but it would be pointless if Cheng Xiaoshi didn’t stay alive. Lu Guang didn’t want to waste his time. He couldn’t squander what Cheng Xiaoshi was missing.
But perhaps one day—if that day ever came—he would summon the courage to express his feelings. However, he avoided thinking about it too much. Nothing should distract him from his main goal, especially not the uncertain prospect of future happiness if Cheng Xiaoshi were no longer there. Then Lu Guang’s life itself would once again become dull and uninspiring, just like the one he’d watched pass him by before meeting Cheng Xiaoshi. Thanks to him, he’d gone from being a mere spectator to a participant in his own life, almost making him want to put effort into certain activities. Everything was more fun with his best friend. And even though he thought about his best friend a lot, he was doing everything he could to save Qiao Ling as well—though he would never admit to her that he considered her a sister.
The pale-faced man shook his head and looked up to keep the tears from falling. The shutters weren’t closed, so he found himself face-to-face with the stillness of the city, shrouded in the veil of a starless night. Everyone was sleeping peacefully, waiting for the relentless dawn that would mark the beginning of a new day, while Lu Guang sat there, suffering in silence. He often wondered if he was the only one who had to go through all this, and if so, why. Then he remembered why he was doing all this. And the memory of Cheng Xiaoshi and Qiao Ling’s warm smiles managed to give him a little motivation. Still, the question never left Lu Guang’s mind at the end of each timeline.
He let out a long sigh. A silence so deep enveloped him that he could hear himself breathing. And he hated himself for breathing, because out of the three people in the studio, he was the only one who could do so. Yet Lu Guang had always felt as if he were dying along with them.
Thanks to the light that still shone in the cursed room and reflected off the tiles, Lu Guang caught a glimpse of his own face. Of course, it was splattered with blood, but it also had more pronounced dark circles under his eyes than in the previous timeline.
He sighed; he had given up on the idea of erasing his dark circles a long time ago. After a few minutes of thought, he opened a drawer and pulled out a photograph of the sky, taken a year ago. Feeling nostalgic, Lu Guang allowed himself a few more minutes to reflect on the time when everything seemed so simple, when everything was bright, and when Lu Guang was allowed to stay by Cheng Xiaoshi and Qiao Ling’s side.
Then he closed his eyes and went over everything he needed to do in his mind. He would come up with a new plan once he got there.
He gently placed the photo in front of him on the desk, took a deep breath, and didn't hesitate for even a second before clapping his hands.
Lu Guang vanished. Now, there was no sign of life left in the studio. The heavy silence, mingling with the cold of the night, seeped into every room, hovering over the bodies of Cheng Xiaoshi and Qiao Ling that Lu Guang had left behind. At first glance, anyone would say they didn’t want to die. However, upon closer inspection, one could glimpse the faintest hint of a confident smile on their lips, as if they knew that sooner or later, Lu Guang would eventually come to their rescue.