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Cheng Xiaoshi wakes up to a white ceiling.

It’s this that gets to him first. His ceiling should not be white, it should be a bunk bed. The distant sound of Qiao Ling, somewhere deeper in the house. Lu Guang shuffling, sometimes, when he can’t sleep, because he’s never the first to sleep.

He moves to press a palm to his forehead, but he startles as something rattles along with it. There’s movement to his left, then a gasp, and suddenly Qiao Ling is leaning over him, if only a bit blurry along the edges. He squints, but it doesn’t go away.

“That’s an IV, Cheng Xiaoshi,” she half-worries, half-scolds. “Don’t pull it.”

“Qiao Ling?” He croaks.

“About time you woke up, idiot,” She clicks her tongue, but lowers what must be her lunch to reach for him, so he figures they must be alright. “Had us worried sick.”

“What happened?”

“You got hit by a car.” She says, and suddenly the sharp pains and white ceiling start to make sense. “You crazy, dumb idiot.”

“Sorry?”

Apparently that wasn’t the right answer, because he hears her click her tongue again. His eyelids are unusually heavy, but her face is starkly clear in his mind’s eye.

“I’m stepping out to call and tell everyone you’re awake, okay?” He feels her brush his fringe off his forehead, and he leans into the touch, a little warm. “I’d just convinced Lu Guang to go home and take a shower, but he’ll want to come back, that guy.”

There’s the sound of a chair scraping, and Cheng Xiaoshi blindly reaches for her, frowning.

“No, let him be. It’s not like I’m going anywhere.”

“You know he’ll be upset if I don’t call,” Her tone is scolding, but her hands when she pries his away are gentle.

“But I’m sick and lonely.”

A huff of laughter sounds. “Seriously. Haven’t seen you in months, and you still haven’t grown up.”

She whispers big baby under her breath, but he’s not focused on that. She says it like he’s been asleep for long, like he’d been gone for even longer, when he remembers having breakfast with her just yesterday.

When he opens his eyes next, his head lolls to Qiao Ling’s side, and he stares. Squints. It’s Qiao Ling, but one centimeter to the right, off kilter. Her hair is longer, cheeks more defined, maybe. She looks more mature. She looks older.

“Qiao Ling? Why do you look like that?” She opens her mouth to protest, but before she can, he adds, “Why do you look older?”

Her mouth shuts closed with a snap. She stares, and there’s a new kind of dread pooling in his stomach.

“Cheng Xiaoshi, how old am I?”

She tries to come off normally, but there’s a tinge of panic that makes his heartbeat spike. He knows this because it’s beating in tandem with a nearby beep.

“Fifteen,” He says, in a sudden moment of clarity.

Her eyes widen in alarm, but before she can say any more, he laughs as much as the pain in his ribs would allow.

“Just kidding. I know you’re twenty two.”

She stares.

Cheng Xiaoshi stares back. It’s quiet for a beat. “I’m going to assume from your reaction that you’re not actually twenty two.”

“No,” she says, uncharacteristically softly. “I’m not.”

Cheng Xiaoshi is twenty five, but his mind is twenty one.

A car sped into him, and he lost four years of his life.

It would sound like a joke if he weren’t living it, or even like one of Qiao Ling’s silly TV shows. It took a second for him to get hit, and then five days to wake up, and it will take who knows how many more to get his memories back.

Qiao Ling is speaking hushed words to a nurse, or a doctor, and she’s always been so capable. But it feels different now, like she’s a real adult.

His legs are a little numb, and he’s so thirsty he can’t think, so he closes his eyes to stop himself from doing anything at all.

He wakes up two hours later, and the white ceiling instantly brings him back. He’s still twenty one, but he feels for his legs and manages to wiggle some of his toes. At least that much has changed.

Someone breathes next to him with something like careful control, and he wills his head to move to the sound. He’s been asleep for almost a week, surely he can do that much.

It’s Lu Guang. His head is nestled into his hands, but at the sound of Cheng Xiaoshi’s hand moving over crisp sheets, his head jolts upwards. Ah. It really is Lu Guang, in all the ways he remembers him.

He can’t tell if anything has changed between them by Lu Guang’s expression. It’s closed off, but also not. Devastated, but relieved. They’re staring at each other for different reasons, searching for all the wrong things.

“Cheng Xiaoshi,” Lu Guang speaks, but in a way he’s never heard before. This is his first time in a hospital— really in a hospital, but he’d imagined Lu Guang would be level headed, calm. Maybe scold him, the way he does when he masks his worry as anger. Not— this.

“Cheng Xiaoshi,” he whispers again, nonsensically. “ Cheng Xiaoshi.”

“I’m here, Lu Guang,” He croaks. Cheng Xiaoshi tries to look at him past the fuzziness, sharp edges blurring into soft lines, but he can still see how Lu Guang doesn’t quite look like what he remembers. His hair style is the same, clothes are still thrifted. No, it’s something else entirely, as if he’s grown into himself. Carries himself differently.

Even the worry is new. Something in Lu Guang shifts imperceptibly, and he springs from his seat to reach him, to reach for him. His hands hover over his cheeks, not quite touching, then move to feel for the temperature on his forehead. He brushes the sweat off it, eyeing something he can’t see. A bruise, maybe.

“Talk to me,” He says, a little frantic. “Does it hurt?”

“Being hit by a car? Yeah, a little.”

He tries for a smile, but he can barely speak around the words with how thirsty he is. Lu Guang must see that, because he moves in close to help him sit up straight. It’s nice to know how attuned he still is to him, even now. How much closer they must have gotten, four years worth of memories now one-sided.

The thought of it aches more than he can say. Lu Guang holds the cup of water up to his lips without question, holding a hand to the back of his head, and he lets himself think about the relief of it instead.

He lets out a long breath into the now-empty cup, and the hand moves away. “Cheng Xiaoshi.” Lu Guang looks at him, worried and something else. “Please, be serious.”

He doesn’t know how to express it, how to make that look go away. He tries to sound very serious as he says, “I’m okay, Lu Guang. Really.”

There’s a pause. They both breathe around it.

“You don’t remember.”

It’s not a question. He sounds the way he does when he tries to sound perfectly neutral, when he’s trying to hide something. Good, good. Deep down, he is still the Lu Guang he knows.

It’s just Cheng Xiaoshi that’s changed.

“I know you’re my best friend.” When Lu Guang doesn’t disagree, his shoulders droop from the comfort of it. “That’s enough.”

Cheng Xiaoshi is discharged two days later, with multiple warnings. None of which he likes.

“Qiao Ling, you can drive now?”

“Yes, and you still don’t, doofus. In four years me and Lu Guang are still driving you around. I hope this embarrassment inspires you.”

Cheng Xiaoshi’s head whips to Lu Guang, both sitting in the back seat. “Lu Guang can drive?!”

“As you so often remind me, yes.”

“Our generosity has been forgotten, Lu Guang.” Qiao Ling clicks her tongue from the front seat.

“Truly a tragedy.”

The doctors said something about not exposing him to many new facts at once, so it’s a relief when they drive through the same neighborhood as always. He can barely lift his arms, let alone walk, so he’s wheelchaired around with Lu Guang as his chauffeur and Qiao Ling his tour guide.

He’s helped into a wheelchair, and Lu Guang pushes him past their glass door that chimes in welcome, Qiao Ling lagging behind to fetch his medicine. There are photos he does and doesn’t recognize spread across the shelves, new and old trinkets and yellowed out books lining the walls. The inside still smells of old parchment and freshly developed film and Lu Guang.

Cheng Xiaoshi glances to the counter on his left. There are photos still spread haphazardly over it, an abandoned mug sitting next to them, and for a moment he lets the sickening relief wash over him. Yes, it only makes sense that in the future, he will still be holding onto the things he loves so fiercely. The certainty of it makes him feel a little warm.

“So we still work together? We’re still roommates?” He looks over his shoulder to Lu Guang and finds him already looking, “Couldn’t get rid of me so easily, huh?”

Lu Guang’s mouth twitches into something like a smile. “Try as I might.”

“Liar!”

Lu Guang shakes his head, lifts a hand from the wheelchair handle to place it on his shoulder, a soft little nudge of presence.

“Don’t move so much, you’ll hurt yourself.”

He gestures for him to face forward, and Cheng Xiaoshi huffs but complies anyway. Ah, so they’ve finally afforded a new couch. There’s a book nook that wasn’t there before. He had dishes he never got to wash, but the sink is now spotless. Or maybe he did. There’s no telling, really.

He cranes his head back up at Lu Guang, catches a brief moment of an unappealing angle of his, and bursts into laughter. Except that then leads him to keel over in pain, clutching at his ribs with a sharp hiss.

“Cheng Xiaoshi!” Lu Guang is immediately kneeling at his side, afraid to touch, afraid to hurt. 

“M’okay,” He tries for a thumbs up, succeeds in a wobbly smile, his eyebrows still pinched together. “Sorry, sorry, my bad for laughing. I got hit by a car. I should be miserable, right?”

“No.”

He can’t help it. The answer was so quick it brings him right back to laughing. Softly, if only to alleviate the worry on his face. He reaches out to pinch the crease between Lu Guang’s brows, watches in wonder as his whole face softens at the touch.

“And why not, Lu Guang?”

“Why…” Lu Guang repeats almost incredulously, like the question itself was ridiculous. “You don’t deserve to be miserable.”

He says it with such certainty that Cheng Xiaoshi is easily inclined into believing it, too. But it’s always been like that with Lu Guang— even being with him is such a simple, sure thing. Waking up and realizing he might have lost that had been so startlingly devastating.

Cheng Xiaoshi withdraws his hand, rests it back over the armrest. Lu Guang is at eye level, and he could count his eyelashes if he’d wanted. Lu Guang is a little less lean now, cheeks a bit more sunken, but there’s a joy in the fact he will never stop being the Lu Guang he knows.

“Let’s get you to rest up,” Lu Guang stands with a little groan, like a real old man. He wants to tease him. “Qiao Ling should be coming back with your pain meds.”

Cheng Xiaoshi doesn’t really want to sleep. He will inevitably wake up as a twenty one year old, and the disappointment will ache more than he can say.

Still. “Okay,” He nods. Thinks back to him at the hospital, his insistent calls of Cheng Xiaoshi, Cheng Xiaoshi, a hundred different words unsaid. There was relief there and something else. Not quite grief, but it’s a near thing.

And maybe the excitement of waking up and going home after getting injected with an exorbitant amount of substances has made him just a tad bit tired. Just a tad.

Still. He bites back the yawn out of spite.

“So all it took was getting hit by a car for you to become compliant?” Lu Guang says as he leads him down the hall and into his makeshift bedroom.

It’s not like walking up the stairs is an option, so he and Qiao Ling seemed to have rearranged the living room as a temporary solution, curtains and a new bed frame and all. The other option would have been the darkroom, which wasn’t considered for obvious reasons.

Not the bedroom he knows, but the effort warms him all the same.

“Shut up, dude,” he says, albeit a bit sluggish. 

With that, he’s tucked into bed.

It’s the funniest thing. Lu Guang is hard at work as he tucks the sheets into him a little more firmly, straightens out the creases. Checks his temperature, lets his hand linger when Cheng Xiaoshi melts with the cool touch. Gets up, double checks the heater. He lingers, in everything he does.

“Lu Guang, you’re being ridiculous!”

Lu Guang huffs at his laughter, as expected.

“Sit still and don’t be difficult.”

“I think the thirty blankets will do that anyway.”

“There are only two,” Lu Guang says, suddenly serious. He frowns. “Should I take one off? Change it to a thinner one?”

“Lu Guang!” Cheng Xiaoshi laughs, strangely delighted. “You’re spoiling me here. Should I have you run me over next time?”

“With the way things are looking, I don’t think I’ll need to.”

“Don’t be mean! I’m crippled.”

“I’m being very nice, more than you deserve,” He huffs, lighthearted, but something about it strikes a chord in him. He stops, considering.

“Lu Guang,” He melts just a little more into the mattress. “We’re cool, right? Nothing changed?”

He must have let something else slip because Lu Guang goes quiet, but not his pensive or ignoring or indulgent kind. The one where he gets a little sad.

“Nothing.”

Cheng Xiaoshi hums. “Yeah? You don’t mind that I’m…”

He trails off, not sure what he’s trying to say either.

“We will make more memories.” Lu Guang says, with a shockingly fierce surety. “We have plenty of time. So go to sleep, stupid melon.”

Uncharacteristically out of words, Cheng Xiaoshi just hums. Must be the painkillers. Or the buzz in his ears.

Lu Guang hovers over his bed, thinking hard. Smoke coming out of his ears and everything. Cheng Xiaoshi watches him for a few seconds before letting out a little laugh.

“Lu Guang, is it that you’re worried, or that I can’t be trusted by myself?”

“Do you really want me to answer that?” He huffs, which to Cheng Xiaoshi just sounded like a yes to both questions.

“Whatever, I’ll be fine! If I need you, I’ll call, yeah?”

There’s a pause. “Yeah. Good.”

There’s an awkward little shuffle to the door, and it’s dark, and he’s not quite looking, but Cheng Xiaoshi can still feel the hesitation. Suddenly, he feels so loved he doesn’t know what to do with it all, with the ache of it. 

“Thanks. I love you, man.”

He must sound a little choked up, because Lu Guang pauses by the doorway.

Still. The door creaks as it closes, and as he’s left to his thoughts, Lu Guang says one final, “Sleep well, Cheng Xiaoshi.”

Cheng Xiaoshi wakes up a moderate amount of disoriented.

That much is normal, he hopes, so the first few minutes of his morning are spent lying in thought, the lack of an upstairs bunk strangely grounding. He tries to move his legs, but there’s still that same spike of pain, so he settles for his arms, then his torso, satisfied he can move that much.

His hand then trails over his own features, trying to find something different in them, but he can’t imagine anything past a face filled with bruises.

So he looks around the room instead.

It’s the living room he knows for sure, but missing everything he loved about it. The couch he and Lu Guang would hang out on; the fake plants he’d stood by as Lu Guang watered for a whole month; the armchair he wasn’t allowed to sit on, courtesy of Qiao Ling.

There’s Lu Guang and Qiao Ling’s far-off chatter, slipping between the cracks in the doorframe and the thin curtain providing a semblance of privacy. If nothing else, there are still foundations of a home here. That much hasn’t changed.

Cheng Xiaoshi is about to reach for his phone when the curtain opens, and Lu Guang slips inside.

“Lu Guang!” he says in his best impression of a scandalized maiden. “Knock next time, why don’t you!”

Wordlessly, Lu Guang spins on his heels and walks back the way he came.

“I was joking!” Cheng Xiaoshi whines, reaching blindly for him. “Come back! I still need my chauffeur!”

Lu Guang does come back, and doesn’t complain even as he’s helped onto his wheelchair. Though he does grumble when Cheng Xiaoshi jokingly assesses the quality of his services, then, again, when he threatens to fire him for the disrespect.

During breakfast, he finds he’s not used to having more options besides leftovers and porridge. He suspects they must be making more money, to afford all the little things they couldn’t before. Like, for instance, an entirely new bed frame just because he needed it.

He voices as much, and only manages to hide half his surprise when Qiao Ling bonks him atop the head with a spoon and says, “Duh, we graduated.”

“Oh,” He mutters, swallowing around a sudden lump. “I knew we would! And what other work do we do, huh? We must have more work, if we’re affording these kinds of luxuries.”

“Luxuries,” Lu Guang repeats half to himself, looking down at their congee and wontons with a little shake of his head. “I’m a journalist. It helps me find more work for us, too.”

“Lu Guang!” Cheng Xiaoshi smiles delightedly, “That’s so cool! You’re always thinking about us, huh? Tell me we’ll always be in your future, c’mon.”

Cheng Xiaoshi expects a click of his tongue, maybe even a shut up and an idiot and a little red-faced huff that told him everything he needed to know. But inexplicably, Lu Guang looks up and casually says through a mouthful of congee, “You two will always be in my future, idiot.”

So maybe he was half-right. Except he— wasn’t. He was entirely, undoubtedly wrong, and maybe the future him wouldn’t be surprised, but he is. And of course it’s just Lu Guang confirming what he already knew, but the confirmation itself was always told through actions rather than words.

“Speaking of,” Qiao Ling, not noticing or ignoring his open-mouthed shock, places two mugs of tea over the table, then comes back to place a third; one shaped like a white cat, another like a brown dog, and the last like a pink bunny, all clearly matching. It’s corny and cheesy and lame and Cheng Xiaoshi adores it.

“Is this one mine?” He says a little reverently, hands hovering over the dog. It even has a little ponytail.

“Who else would have one that looks so stupid?” Lu Guang says, reaching out to grab hold of his equally stupid mug.

“It’s so cute, right?” Qiao Ling, his favorite person, says with equal enthusiasm as him.

Lu Guang, who is currently losing his spot as his other favorite person, just huffs from where he is, but sips his tea anyway.

“I love it,” He makes a show out of sniffling in appreciation before sipping his tea. It warms him from the inside out.

Cheng Xiaoshi only gets about halfway through it. It’s so fast he doesn’t know why it happens; maybe he was laughing too hard at something Qiao Ling said, or maybe his body decided to suddenly cave in on itself. Either way, the result is the same: the mug slips, and the laughter to sudden silence feels almost haunting.

The shatter feels louder than it should, as does the gasp Qiao Ling lets out beside him.

“Are you okay?!” Cheng Xiaoshi says, frantic, reaches for Qiao Ling but can’t quite reach.

“I’m okay,” Luckily wearing flip flops, she steps around the shards to reach Cheng Xiaoshi, if only to have him inspect her and ease his worries. Maybe inspect him in turn, with the way they’re gripping each other. “You’re okay too, right, Cheng Xiaoshi?”

“Yeah, but the mug…”

“I’ll go get some paper and a dustpan,” Lu Guang’s chair creaks in his hurry to stand, scurrying off to their nearest broom closet.

“Okay,” he thinks he says. Then, to Qiao Ling, “I’m— sorry.”

Qiao Ling just shakes her head, a comforting hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay, silly. We can always get new ones.”

The bits of the dog’s face remained mostly intact, and despite what she said she still looks a bit sad about it. Cheng Xiaoshi didn’t even get the chance to ask where she’d gotten it, and so it stays as another memory lost.

As they’re sweeping they don’t reprimand him even once, though it maybe feels like they should.

They later agree to video call Xu Shanshan, who has apparently been worrying about him during her exchange program all the way from the States with Dong Yi. They chat for so long the two at some point change into their pajamas halfway through, with Qiao Ling chiming in about the crazy time difference.

By the time they say their goodbyes he’s halfway forgotten about the mug. He can’t know if it was on purpose, but he’s grateful all the same.

At that point they’re faced with a separate problem entirely.

“Are you telling me to strip, Lu Guang?”

“Can you not word it like that,” Lu Guang sighs with the bandages in hand, like he expected this. “Doctor’s orders.”

“I’m sure I can change them by myself, though, give them here.”

He makes grabby hands, but Lu Guang raises the first aid kit far overhead, clearly using his crippled state against him, the bastard. It doesn’t help that Lu Guang towering over him looks twice as menacing as usual. He swears he even sees an eye twitch.

“No you cannot, you big lug of an idiot,” Lu Guang slaps his hands down. “I’m not letting you change out of those yourself.”

“Not even if I ask nicely?”

“Not even if you ask nicely.”

Without warning, Lu Guang reaches over and pokes him twice on the arm. Cheng Xiaoshi blinks up owlishly at him.

“Your arms, idiot, lift your arms.”

“What!” He says a bit too scandalously. “I don’t want to!”

Realistically, he knows he’s being difficult. Except he woke up just yesterday with four years of his memories gone and non functioning limbs, and now his best friend is telling him to take his shirt off. He thinks he can afford to be a little difficult.

“If you don’t take it off, I’m doing it myself.”

“Lu Guang, wait, let’s talk about this,” Despite his best efforts— he’s sure he looks very silly, waving so frantically at him— Lu Guang continues his menacing approach, both his hands gripping Cheng Xiaoshi’s shirt once he reaches him. “Lu Guang! I swear you don’t want to do this—!”

He lifts his shirt from the bottom-up, and Cheng Xiaoshi raises his arms almost instinctively. Distantly, he’s aware he’s sulking, but Lu Guang just ignores him and folds the shirt neatly before setting it aside, even though he really doesn’t have to.

“Lack of consent is a serious crime, y’know,” he mumbles.

“Uhuh,” Lu Guang hums, setting aside the gauze and scissors with a practiced ease Cheng Xiaoshi didn’t know he had.

“Girls won’t like you if you keep this up.”

“I’m sure they won’t,” Lu Guang nods agreeably, hovering over him to inspect the damage.

His own words sink in as Lu Guang, touch feather-light, gets on his knees to start pulling off the gauze, unwinding it layer by layer. There are soft murmurs of does it hurt? and tell me if it hurts, his hands shaking the slightest bit with the slowness of his movements, the carefulness of them. Cheng Xiaoshi thinks he looks a little sad, but it’s hard to tell.

“Did you get a girlfriend?” He just straight-up asks, after about three minutes of staring at him blankly just thinking about it.

Lu Guang jerks from beside him. Cheng Xiaoshi feels the movement before he sees it, that’s how close they are.

“I mean, I’d be surprised if you did, obviously. But since you’re, like, an old man now and everything, surely you must have a girlfriend. Or had , I don’t know, four years is a long time, right, so anything could happen.” He lets out an awkward laugh as the words just keep coming. “So. Yeah.” He nods lightly to himself. “Do you?”

“No,” Lu Guang says, too quick. Takes a moment to clear his throat, “No girlfriend.”

“Oh,” Cheng Xiaoshi squints at him, not sure what exactly he’s looking for. “Damn. Not a single girlfriend? That’s—”

“Not a word, Cheng Xiaoshi—”

“ So lame, wow, did you even go out and try at all? You using work as an excuse, or something?”

Lu Guang pauses his ministrations for a beat too long, eyebrows furrowed and twitching. It takes a lot out of Cheng Xiaoshi not to fall over backwards laughing.

“You are!— Lu Guang, seriously, you’re the funniest guy in the world, did you know that?”

There’s a drawn out huff as Cheng Xiaoshi shakes with the effort of holding back his laugh, but then there’s a press of a hand to his sternum that startles him into stillness.

“Stop moving, I’m almost done.”

Cheng Xiaoshi looks down at himself with sudden awareness, wincing at the purples and yellows and reds of his own chest. He’d been avoiding looking at himself for a while, unsure of the extent of it, but seeing it for the first time— in front of Lu Guang and everything— is more shocking than he expected. He breathes around a sudden lump in his lungs, his breath coming out shaky.

“Damn. Talk about battle scars,” He says with a breathy laugh.

“The car came out in worse shape afterwards, I’m sure.”

“Did it actually?”

“No, dumbass.”

Cheng Xiaoshi deflates, right back to sulking.

Removing the last layer was worse than he’d thought. Cheng Xiaoshi hisses and groans as it’s peeled off his bare skin, wincing as the cloth comes out stained in red. Lu Guang doesn’t say any more, but he’s a solid presence next to him, and it feels like enough.

The bandages are changed into fresh ones, and it feels a lot faster than actually removing them, so by the time he’s handed back his shirt, he’s just a little impressed with Lu Guang’s quick work. Dexterous hands, and all that.

After being against it so vehemently, it feels a little embarrassing to thank him, so instead he says, “Not bad.”

Lu Guang shrugs, and it feels a little like a you’re welcome, so Cheng Xiaoshi is grateful for it.

Qiao Ling makes them some hot chocolate afterwards with a generous dollop of whipped cream, so he supposes that for caretakers, he couldn’t have asked for better people. His future self must have done something right, then.

Cheng Xiaoshi’s hair is longer than he remembers, reaching just past his shoulders when loose. He knows this because he actually took his time that morning running a hand over his face, painting a picture of it in his head. He thinks he’d like the hair, if he saw it. Had the opportunity to. The courage.

Even worse: he has to pee, and there’s the smell of pancakes wafting in through the cracked bedroom door. Cheng Xiaoshi could yell and hope someone hears him, interrupt breakfast and maybe break another mug and just be a general burden, or he could limp his way to the bathroom himself and hope to god he doesn’t fall.

His mind is made up fairly quickly.

He shuffles his way to the edge of the bed, working his way through the exertion of it through sheer force of will, taking a moment to curl his toes in the soft carpet. He preps himself for a full minute before weak arms push up onto shaky legs, swaying for a second before regaining a semblance of balance.

“Okay, okay,” he mutters to himself, “This is good. You didn’t forget how to fucking– walk, so just move.”

The pep talk is ultimately unhelpful. Cheng Xiaoshi presses onto the wall as he shuffles into the hallway, and when he looks down he can see just how shaky he really is, the bruises littering his legs exposed now that he knows where to look.

It takes an embarrassingly short amount of time until he decides that he might just die if he takes another step. That is, about halfway down the hall until he’s lowering himself slowly to the floor. By the time he’s starfished on the ground, he’s heaving from the exertion of it.

This is his home for the foreseeable future, he decides. He will live and die here, and he’s cool with that. There’s a new carpet here now, so he pats it for good measure. Might as well make friends with it.

The foreseeable future ends up being about three minutes, because Qiao Ling finds him like that just as he’s succumbed to his fate. “Cheng Xiaoshi!” She calls as she rushes to him, hands patting him wildly as she searches for any injuries. “Did you fall? What’re you doing out here?”

Her face is doing that funny thing where it can’t decide if it wants to look angry or worried, and he wants to laugh but there are another set of rushing footsteps before he gets the chance, another anxious call of his name.

Lu Guang crouches by his head since there’s no space in the hallway on Cheng Xiaoshi’s other side, so he’s greeted with his upside down frown. At that, he actually laughs.

“Lu Guang, you have boogers,” He doesn’t, but that hardly matters.

Lu Guang doesn’t seem to care about his nonexistent boogers, though. “Cheng Xiaoshi, are you hurt?”

“I’m good. I had to pee, but you were all far away, and walking is hard, so…” Lu Guang and Qiao Ling exchange worried glances and no, no, this is not what he wanted at all. He tries to keep it out of his voice, but the shame leaks through anyway, “I laid down for a bit.”

“Cheng Xiaoshi…” Qiao Ling mutters disapprovingly.

Lu Guang’s lips purse, like he’s holding back a scolding. Cheng Xiaoshi almost wishes he wouldn’t, just so there’s a bit more normality to all this. After a moment, he just sighs something a little sad, which feels worse than any scolding, somehow.

“Do you want to get up, or stay down here?”

Cheng Xiaoshi takes a moment to seriously consider his options.

“I mean, I don’t want to pee my pants.”

Lu Guang nods agreeably. “Good call, because I’d make you scrub it off the floor yourself.”

Cheng Xiaoshi laughs, “You wouldn’t.”

Lu Guang just sighs, neither agreeing nor disagreeing.

“We should just leave him here, Lu Guang, so he learns his lesson.”

“We should,” He nods, continuing to stare. The silence lingers, and Cheng Xiaoshi is the first to laugh, and Qiao Ling, probably against her better judgment, eventually laughs, too. Lu Guang lets out a little breath out his nose, which Cheng Xiaoshi takes as a win.

They do ultimately help him up, and it feels kinder than it should be.

In the end, Cheng Xiaoshi doesn’t look in the mirror. He’s afraid of what his reaction could do to Lu Guang, standing just outside. He does look down to give himself another once-over, though, and finds that they were right to worry– it’s not just his legs that are littered with bruises.

Later, he decides that the breakfast pancakes Qiao Ling makes are his favorite. He tells her such as she’s gathering up the dishes, and he can’t see her face as she says, simply, “I know you do.” He thinks that’s a sort of kindness, too.

They’re huddled in his makeshift bedroom when Cheng Xiaoshi gets a little bit quiet. It must be unusual for him, because after a while, Lu Guang turns to look at him, a question in his eyes.

“What was—” He stops, shakes his head. Not was, it feels unfair to say that to Lu Guang, so he rephrases, “What am I like, at twenty five? More mature, you think?”

Lu Guang sets his mug over the coffee table as he says, plainly, “No.”

“C’mon! Not even a little?”

Lu Guang grows silent, the kind he gets when he’s seriously considering something. After a moment, he turns to Cheng Xiaoshi and stares for what feels like a long time.

“More considerate.”

At that, he gets a little bit upset. “But I am considerate.” That doesn’t sound right, so he adds, “At least, I try to be.”

He’s leveled with a stare. “You just walked yourself into exhaustion this morning.”

“Because I didn’t want to bother you!”

Lu Guang sighs, a drawn-out thing.  When he speaks next, it sounds a little bit rehearsed, like this is something they’ve spoken of before. Like a different Cheng Xiaoshi had been gently coaxed into seeing things the way Lu Guang does. It’s only four years, the nurse had said, but he feels a lifetime apart from the Cheng Xiaoshi Lu Guang speaks so softly to.

“Cheng Xiaoshi,” He speaks slowly, and Cheng Xiaoshi doesn’t know if it’s to give himself time to think or if it’s for him to understand him better. “Did you ever consider what I’d think, finding you on the floor like that?”

“Well, being on the floor wasn’t really part of the plan.”

Lu Guang silences him with a look. “Or what if I’d known you would rather struggle by yourself than ask for my help? Can you imagine how that would make me feel?”

Cheng Xiaoshi frowns. He wants to protest, but can’t find the words. “...No, I hadn’t.”

“Cheng Xiaoshi,” He says again, a little more seriously. A little more frantic, but not with any kind of displeasure. Fear, maybe, or something in between. “Rely on me,” He pleads. “Just trust me. That’s all I ask. ”

Lu Guang always parses the words on his tongue before speaking them, is always thinking so much, always scolding Cheng Xiaoshi for his impulsiveness. He thinks he’s let that go, just a bit. As if the past Cheng Xiaoshi, him and not him, had prodded that out of him, if only a little. He wants to be proud, but can’t remember ever getting to that point.

“Okay, Lu Guang.” Just as this Lu Guang has worked on himself, he imagines the past him must have, too. “I’ll try.”

If there’s one thing he can do, it’s to try. He’d like to think he always tries, in everything he sets his mind to, sometimes too much. He can stop burderning Lu Guang. He can do that much.

Lu Guang must see something in his expression, because he frowns almost imperceptibly. “Don’t do it for me. Do it because you know I want to help you.”

“Okay, okay,” He huffs, “I don’t like it though!”

Lu Guang settles a little more into the couch. “I know you don’t,” And I don’t care is practically spoken at this point.

“Wow. I’m a patient, you know? I’m the priority, you know? What about my feelings? What if I wanted to lay on the floor and die? The new carpet is comfy!”

Lu Guang levels him with a look, reaches back for his coffee mug. Says around the rim, “I know. I chose it.”

“Damn. Low blow.”

Lu Guang just shrugs, looks a little too smug as he sips his coffee. 

This much he knows how to do. The future him still jokes and laughs and prods at Lu Guang until he says a mean variation of what he’d wanted him to. Good, good— that’s good.

Cheng Xiaoshi keeps staring at Lu Guang’s side profile, as if waiting for something to click, wondering if there’s something he should be saying.

“Anything else?” He waits for Lu Guang to look back at him. “That I’m like, in the future.”

And Lu Guang— softens, just a touch. “No,” his thumb traces the handle of the mug as he says it. “Nothing else.”

And Cheng Xiaoshi has no choice but to believe him, even if only partially. He will allow himself this one small comfort.

There’s a photo of his parents in the darkroom.

It was tucked away safely in a faroff cabinet, but still crinkled at the edges. It feels loved, well-worn. It’s one he knows well, more yellowed than he remembers, like he’s looked over it many more times since.

He’s not sure how it happened, just that he’d first been a little in awe of his own future pictures, the boldness of them, how it captures feelings the way he’d always wanted them to, and he’d dug a little too deep. 

He’d long since memorized the curve of their smiles, their laughter lines, but he’s now stuck looking. And looking. And suddenly the terrible thing he’s been pushing down since he’d lost his memory pushes up, up, through his lungs and between his ribcage, until he’s fit to burst with it.

Cheng Xiaoshi wouldn’t quite say he collapses. More like he sits very inelegantly on the floor, even though he doesn’t need to. His physical therapist complimented him just yesterday when he stood up on his own, and he didn’t quite preen back then, but it was a near thing. Now, though, the cold feels almost welcoming.

It’s the one thing among many that he pushed aside with all his other new, terrible realities still an open wound. Silently, though, he was hoping. Always hoping.

And Cheng Xiaoshi has always been an emotional thing; an ugly crier, quick to smile. Just as quick to anger.

He tries to stand, slips. Groans, huffs, lets out something guttural. Wants to find someone, wants so much— wants to grab them by the shoulders, ask them why. Wants to know if he’s really that naive, and why it had to blow up in his face so terribly. Wants to fucking remember, wants to get up and walk.

But he can’t do any of those things, so he grips the darkroom’s countertop and claws his way up, slams the door open, running out on unsure legs. The commotion must alert Qiao Ling, rushing over from somewhere, and distantly he hears the calls of his name.

Later, in bed, he will relive the day over and over, and he will regret it until his heart bleeds. Now, though, he grabs her by the shoulders, unsteady.

“Why didn’t you tell me? Why did I have to figure it out like this?” The breath he lets in is shaky. “Why, why?”

Instantly, her eyes cloud over with understanding, and it feels so much worse than words.

“Why?”

He thinks he’s yelling. Later, he won’t be so sure.

“Oh, Cheng Xiaoshi.”

The softness of it brings him back, and the anger bleeds into sharp, sudden grief. Always an emotional thing.

He drapes himself over her, exhausted. She’s a solid presence, even years later, and holds on tight.

There are more footsteps from upstairs, skidding the corner and bounding down the steps, and Cheng Xiaoshi has half a mind to look over. It’s only when Lu Guang is looking down at him that he realizes he’s on the floor, head in the crook of Qiao Ling’s shoulder, the back of it cradled in her hands.

“My silly little brother,” She says, so, so sad. Lu Guang stands over them, breath heavy, face twisted into something wretched.

He doesn’t know how long he sits there, but judging from how Lu Guang joins them on the floor and Qiao Ling’s soft swaying nearly lulls him to sleep, he thinks it might be a long time.

Cheng Xiaoshi is in bed. It should feel like a relief, but he already misses Qiao Ling’s warmth.

He can’t know what time it is, and every limb aches even though he’s barely moved all day, but there’s a solid presence beside him before the frustration fully builds up, up, and so his head lolls towards it.

It’s Lu Guang, on a chair beside his bed. And suddenly he’s brought right back to that day in the hospital, Lu Guang having to hold himself from breaking, taut as a bowstring, so far off from how he remembered him, yet entirely the same.

So after a few weeks of knowing him, he can say with certainty that this Lu Guang is happier, just around the edges. And he’d always known there was grief hidden behind his stoic face, but it’s one of those things you can never realize the depth of until it’s gone. He wonders what changed. Doesn’t know how to begin asking.

“Lu Guang.”

His head snaps up at the sound. Cheng Xiaoshi tries for a smile, but it feels both carved out and entirely too full.

Lu Guang reaches for his hand, hesitates, reaches back towards it to grip it tightly. At that, Cheng Xiaoshi manages to laugh, to breathe around the grief. Ahhh— Lu Guang really makes himself too easy to love.

But he can’t allow himself to think of that, not now, with Lu Guang so close. So instead, he thinks of an equally terrible truth.

“Did I ever give up, at any point?”

And then Lu Guang’s face contorts into something awful, like he’s mourning for the people he’s never met. Shame, weeks of it, maybe months, roll through Cheng Xiaoshi’s stomach at once, so thick he needs a moment to bite his lip to stop himself from saying things he might regret. Lu Guang’s open misery is what Cheng Xiaoshi wanted to avoid the most, but he supposes tonight was a night of many exceptions.

Lu Guang rests his head over Cheng Xiaoshi’s forehead, an unspoken comfort. Exceptions.

“Sometimes, on bad days.” Lu Guang whispers. “But you never said it outloud.”

“But it’s hopeless, isn’t it? You’re all thinking it. How long have you been thinking it?”

The whispered words are a little too fragile for his liking, suspended midair between them.

“Never thought that, not even once,”There’s a finality in his voice he can’t disagree with. “Cheng Xiaoshi, you’re the strongest person I know, okay? Whatever happens, you’ll get through it.”

Cheng Xiaoshi shakes his head softly enough not to jostle him, a bitter laugh tearing from his throat. His hope, his feelings, all just salted earth now. He bites his lip. Nothing can bloom.

Loss isn’t absence, after all: it is a presence. A strong presence, right next to him. It doesn’t look like anything, which is what makes it unique in its strangeness. It just fits inside what isn’t there anymore. It is not going to go away, he already knows. It will stay as he tries to sleep. It will beg to be filled, and he will not let it.

“I’m not, Lu Guang, you just forgot.”

“No. Every version of you is strong.”

Something about the way he says it feels too sure, and it cuts further than skin-deep.

“Lu Guang,” Someone’s shaking, and he’s not sure if it’s him or Lu Guang. “Will you– Can you–”

“Yes,” Wordlessly, Lu Guang climbs into bed with him, always so careful not to hurt.

Cheng Xiaoshi is hurt in more ways than one, though. A little impatient, he pulls him in by the arm, and Lu Guang looks a little fond as he complies, lets himself be pulled, be held. With a sleepy sort of certainty, Cheng Xiaoshi knows he loves him. Quietly, he thinks about how this is a kind of grief, too.

It’s been years, hasn’t it? Four years, and Lu Guang still doesn’t want him.

“Tell me about us?”

Lu Guang hums. “What more do you want to know?”

He considers it. “Everything.”

So Lu Guang tells him whatever comes to mind, and Cheng Xiaoshi laughs, and complains, and calls him out on lying even though it was probably very much the truth. He cries a little, but if Lu Guang notices, he doesn’t say.

Cheng Xiaoshi falls asleep warm, letting something or other unravel inside his ribcage.

The weeks go by with memories leaking into dreams until he’s left with the barest bones of the most important moments of his life.

He’d taken them for granted, he decides. The smaller memories he recalls feel so much bigger that way— Qiao Ling’s new apartment, their graduation party, all the inside jokes he’s not privy to anymore— they all float listlessly in his mind, untethered.

A firsthand recount is not enough.

The thought comes, unbidden, as Cheng Xiaoshi looks over the collection of photos, memories he doesn’t recognize, and decides it won’t hurt to take just the smallest look.

He claps.

He never stays for long. Neither his conscience nor his body would allow it, and neither would the mini Lu Guang in his head already reprimanding him. So when the dive comes, he sinks into it as if he's living it for the last time.

First he has his toes in a riverbed, then he’s in a busy street market, then he’s on the beach, then he’s staring out past the horizon, sparkler in hand. Sometimes he’s alone, most times he’s not, and the smile first taken for the photo never fully fades, the joy from the Cheng Xiaoshi of the picture so tangible he aches with it.

With it comes the certainty that the Cheng Xiaoshi of every photo is in love with Lu Guang. Every one of them.

In his last dive, it takes a second to adjust to the familiarity of it. He’s in his bedroom, his real one, the one he hasn’t gotten the chance to see since he woke up. The photo itself was a blurry Lu Guang dragging with him the entirety of their new wardrobe, mouth half-opened in what must be a complaint.

“—shi, stop taking photos and help me, I swear to god.”

Cheng Xiaoshi is cackling, and the feeling persists as he snaps a few more photos out of spite. He knows himself best, after all.

The room is being renovated, drying paint and all, and yet everywhere he looks, there is evidence of a complete melding of two lives. The still-open wardrobe with his clothes spilling more into Lu Guang’s side. His elaborate photography vision boards scattered between Lu Guang’s neatly ordered reports. He suspects they ran out of space on the shelves, because there are stacks of his books tucked into a box in the corner.

Lu Guang swipes at him one-handedly, and Cheng Xiaoshi steps back with another laugh. “Guang Guang, I thought you were a man, what would you need help for?”

Lu Guang sets down the wardrobe with a huff, and suddenly he’s wrestling him for the camera. There’s pushing and pulling, the camera held high overhead as Lu Guang swipes for it again and again, and it’s a little silly. Immature, even. Cheng Xiaoshi doesn’t ever want to leave.

Lu Guang manages to snatch it, setting it down somewhere. He’s breathing heavy after just a little tussling, and it sends Cheng Xiaoshi right back to laughter.

“You should see your face, you’re going pink!”

“Shut up, no I’m not.”

“You so are, I’m taking another picture for prosperity.”

Before he gets the chance, Lu Guang takes the camera and opens the window, a silent threat.

“Lu Guang! You wouldn’t!” Lu Guang shakes the camera as it dangles out the window, as if to say you sure about that? “Okay, okay, no more fighting! I’ll be good!”

“Good. Now help me.” He sets the camera down in the corner of their highest shelf. Cheng Xiaoshi can definitely reach it, so it feels a bit redundant, but he can find other ways to be annoying, anyway.

So he helps.

He hadn’t meant to. But helping with the wardrobe turned into helping with the bed, then the decorating, then the mirror, which he can’t help but look into. He’s so different already, hair long and messy from the tussle, cheeks still stretched into a grin from something he said. He’s twenty five, and happy. He thinks he likes the look on him. 

Lu Guang must too, because he looks a little fond as he takes the book outstretched to him, eyes curved with mirth and something else. Cheng Xiaoshi tucks this memory away for safe-keeping— this much, he won’t forget.

Then when his legs feel a little too much like jelly, he lies starfished on their sheetless bed, ignoring the distant complaints. Ah, now he knows where they’d gotten his bed, it was up here all along. So much for thinking they’re rich.

“What happened to our bunk bed?”

Lu Guang looks a little affronted. “What would we need it for?”

“For… sleeping?”

Lu Guang looks at him like he’s stupid, which is not really new, except he usually understands why.

“Hang on,” He closes his eyes, considers it for a moment. “Is there another bed, then?”

He looks around, and there’s really no space for a second bed here. Hence the bunk beds, which are now useless, for some reason or another, so Cheng Xiaoshi thinks. And thinks.

“Wait. Wait, wait,” Cheng Xiaoshi’s eyes open with a snap, sitting up so quick he gets whiplash. “So we’re… Sharing.” He blinks. “This bed?”

“Unless you’re planning on sleeping outside, then yeah,” Lu Guang slots the book in place before looking over his shoulder, brows furrowed. Cheng Xiaoshi, amidst his sudden mania, sees they’re organized neatly by color, because of course they are. “Are you okay?”

“Oh my god.” He says, then, “Should we kiss?”

Lu Guang tenses, and Cheng Xiaoshi, for a moment, thinks he fucked up the timeline so bad he might as well just keel over and die, but then Lu Guang is stumbling towards him and he sees, just then, that he’s shy.

Holy shit.

“Do you have to ask every time?” Lu Guang steps between his legs, tilting Cheng Xiaoshi’s chin up so impossibly gently.

And because Cheng Xiaoshi can’t just say of fucking course I do, holy shit? He lets himself get kissed instead.

He feels the touch first on his forehead, uncertain, before his lips drag towards his eyebrow, his temple, tilting his head this way and that. Cheng Xiaoshi lets himself be maneuvered, throat burning with it.

A breath passes. “Lu Guang, that was underwhelming even for you,” He says, but it’s a little too breathy to come off as genuine.

It earns him a slap on his shoulder though. “Shut up,” but his hand is still cupping Cheng Xiaoshi’s jaw, thumb caressing circles on the under of his eye, so he figures he’s not really mad. He’s happy, even; a little radiant with it.

“More?” His eyes flutter closed at the touch, expectant.

He only realizes how jittery he is once Lu Guang presses a hand to his bouncing leg with a little huff. “Tone it down.”

“Sorry,” Cheng Xiaoshi says, if only to get kissed faster, and Lu Guang rolls his eyes. He can’t see it, but he knows he is.

Then Lu Guang’s thumb catches on the well of his bottom lip, stroking along the dip there before his hands slide down to his neck, hovering before they touch. And Cheng Xiaoshi wants, wants with a force that hollows and caves and aches.

Lu Guang’s lips find the outermost corner of his mouth, and before he can think it, Cheng Xiaoshi turns to meet him halfway.

They’re a little soft with inexperience, the both of them. Cheng Xiaoshi tries to move his head, find the perfect angle, until Lu Guang grips his jaw and holds him still. He thinks he lets out a little noise. He can’t be too sure though.

When they part, his face is a little soft with wonder, he can feel it. 

“Oh,” He blinks, again and again, until the reality of it sinks in. “You like me.”

“Shut up,” Lu Guang says in a near whisper, but doesn’t disagree.

“And I like you.”

This time Lu Guang doesn’t say a thing, but he lets out a little huff, clearly pleased.

“Oh my god,” He says nonsensically, then, again, “Oh my god. Why wouldn’t— why wouldn’t you tell me?”

“Who didn’t tell you?” Lu Guang clicks his tongue, staring down at Cheng Xiaoshi, swaying a bit as he holds him so softly in his hands. It doesn’t feel real.

Because it isn’t really, is it? This Lu Guang isn’t his, and in a way, neither is he Lu Guang’s either, his timeline or not.

“Lu Guang,” He starts, unthinking, “If I lost my memories, would you still like me?”

There must be something in his expression, something he let slip, because this Lu Guang’s face hardens in a way he’s never seen before. He looks angry. He looks afraid. He looks at Cheng Xiaoshi like he’s a stranger to him.

“Cheng Xiaoshi,” He says, but there’s a trepidation, there. “Where are you right now?” And suddenly he’s not looking at the Cheng Xiaoshi he just kissed.

He’s looking at the Cheng Xiaoshi that just dived.

The moment that shouldn’t exist is suspended in time, balanced on a drop of honey. Cheng Xiaoshi feels himself breathe with it, breathe and breathe, until it’s all he knows how to do, his lungs shaking with it.

Lu Guang reaches out as if to stop him, and Cheng Xiaoshi’s hands clap so hard they ache. A coward’s way out.

Then he’s sprinting, down the hall and up the stairs, and finds his room just as he’d just left it, Lu Guang and all.

“Cheng Xiaoshi,” He starts, no doubt to say something about him not supposed to be climbing stairs yet, and Cheng Xiaoshi—

“We’re dating?”  

Lu Guang is stunned into silence. Then all at once, recognition, then understanding.

“So this is when, huh?”

“Don’t give me that,” Cheng Xiaoshi’s steps feel loud as he walks over, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt, “Is there anything else you didn’t fucking tell me?”

“The doctors said it was best to help you adjust.”

“Do the doctors know me better than you do?”

He shakes him for emphasis, and Lu Guang lets himself be shaken. His ribcage is a mess of feelings, betrayal and misery and so much open relief he loses hold of Lu Guang’s shirt and cups his cheeks instead.

Lu Guang melts so impossibly quick, sinking into the touch like he’s been starved of it. He doesn’t know why he ever thought Lu Guang would run cold. Thinking back on it, he’s always, always been warm.

“They know more about your health, maybe,” His voice is muffled against Cheng Xiaoshi’s palm.

“Not about this. Not about us. Just— Were you ever going to tell me?”

Lu Guang looks off, but whatever he’s thinking, he doesn’t say.

Cheng Xiaoshi’s hands take fistfuls of his shirt now, a different kind of realization sinking in. “Is it because I’m not him? Because I don’t remember?”

“No,” Lu Guang says quick. “Never.”

“Even if I never remember?” Cheng Xiaoshi looks at him, really looks, not sure what he’s searching for. “What then?”

There it is— the caress, right on the apple of his cheek. Cheng Xiaoshi leans into it, into the boy he loves at twenty one, the boy he will still love by twenty five, and then even longer still.

“You could forget me a hundred more times, and I’d still find you.” Lu Guang grips him tighter with the surety of it, and there’s a finality in his eyes that Cheng Xiaoshi can’t look away from.

Cheng Xiaoshi shakes his head, but he’s seen it, seen how he was cared for. How he’d been reassured, time and time again. We will make new memories, he’d once said, all while carrying four years worth of their friendship on his back without question.

He’s a little too devoted, this Lu Guang of his.

“You’re the silliest guy in the world, did you know that?”

Lu Guang shakes his head, but whether he’s holding back on saying something, Cheng Xiaoshi can’t be sure.

By their second kiss, there’s none of that uncertainty of Lu Guang’s from before. There’s a practiced ease, an underlying tenderness, and he’s being kissed all needy and slow, just the way he likes it, without ever having considered it before. Lu Guang sighs into it, and it tastes a little like relief.

The touch is tentative, delicate, a hundred words unsaid. Lu Guang’s fingers twitch at his sides, like he’s aching to do more, so Cheng Xiaoshi snakes his hands from his shoulders and down, down, until he’s slipping them into Lu Guang’s open palms and squeezing. Lu Guang squeezes back, and his shoulders droop from the touch, the solace of it.

At that point he’s feeling a little out of breath from more than just the kissing, melting like human fondue, so when he sinks to the floor, he takes Lu Guang down with him.

“Cheng Xiaoshi?”

“I’m okay,” He shakes his head, doesn’t elaborate, then shuffles closer, close enough so there’s no space for fear between them. “Again?”

Lu Guang huffs, the one that means indulgence. Cheng Xiaoshi experimentally presses a kiss to the dip of his nose, petal-soft, being rewarded a soft sigh in turn. Lu Guang is so expressive, really. He’s always been jagged lines and rough words on the surface, so the fact he melts so quickly is so fitting he wonders how he’d never considered it.

And when he parts for air Cheng Xiaoshi makes an aborted, frustrated noise, but Lu Guang looks as if he’s breathing heavily from a little more than just the kiss.

“You really…”

“Hm?” Cheng Xiaoshi hums, but even that sounds too breathy.

Lu Guang frowns, shakes his head. His lips form around a word, then decide against it.

Cheng Xiaoshi pokes his side, right where hip meets belly, his only weakness. Lu Guang honest to god squeaks, though he’ll never admit it.

“Fuck off,” Lu Guang bristles, taking advantage of their position and bumping their foreheads together. It’s less cute and more aggressive, really, but Cheng Xiaoshi suspects it’s because he doesn’t want to stop holding hands, so he snickers at him.

“Say it, please? No more secrets.”

Lu Guang frowns, defeated.

“You really like me?”

Cheng Xiaoshi hums, considering, dragging the sound. “Eh, you’re alright.”

His foot gets stepped on with purpose, and he lets out a mix between a laugh and a squeak. Revenge, he guesses.

“I hate you.”

“No you don’t, you love me. Enough to nurse me back to health for weeks!”

“A lapse of judgment, you can die now. Get in the car.”

“No!” He’s grinning so wide he wonders how he can get any words past it. “Tell me you like me.”

There it is: his little red-faced huff that told Cheng Xiaoshi everything he needed to know, but even still he says, “I like you.”

It’s really too much. Cheng Xiaoshi pulls away to hide behind his hands and despair until Lu Guang is breathing out a laugh and pulls them away to kiss him again.

Cheng Xiaoshi thinks, at that moment, that if he were to forget him again— he’d do anything to meet him, all over again.