Archive of Our Own

As it turns out, it hurts to die. Cheng Xiaoshi doesn’t realize this yet. He doesn’t realize that’s what this is, yet. All he knows is blinding pain and the way his body caves beneath him. The way he falls. The way Lu Guang catches him with this terrified, panicked look in his eyes. He’s never seen Lu Guang look like that. Lu Guang, who’s always so calm, so collected.

Cheng Xiaoshi bleeds, and he struggles to breathe. He struggles to see past his tears, to listen to what Lu Guang is saying. It hurts. It hurts so much. He hasn’t known agony like this all his life.

“Cheng Xiaoshi,” a voice is saying. “Cheng Xiaoshi!”

Lu Guang. A mess of white hair and wide gray eyes and dark circles. Cheng Xiaoshi can see him now, can focus a little. He feels so weak, the strength leaking out of him with every passing second. He’s so tired. He wants to sleep.

He realizes it then. Looking up at Lu Guang, who supports him half in his lap, he thinks, I’m dying, aren’t I? He can’t find it in him to be scared. It just hurts so much. He’s so tired. He thought he’d be a little older than this. Somewhere in his eighties, hunched and gray. Maybe he’d still be running the photo studio. Maybe he’d have grandkids and pets and Qiao Ling would nag at him to take his medicine and remember his cane when he goes out. Lu Guang would be there too. That much hasn’t changed.

“Lu Guang,” he croaks.

Hushed and too loud at once, “Cheng Xiaoshi.”

A tear leaks down his temple. It hurts so bad. When his eyes clear for a moment, he catches sight of that terrible expression on Lu Guang’s face and thinks, he’s going to have to live with this memory for the rest of his life.

“I’m sorry,” he tries. His breath rattles in his lungs. He tastes copper in his mouth. Lu Guang still looks frantic. Cheng Xiaoshi wants to tell him it’s okay, to reach up and brush his fingers over his cheek. He can’t lift his arm. He’s too weak. Lu Guang presses hard on the wound with the hand not supporting Cheng Xiaoshi’s head, but it isn’t enough. Cheng Xiaoshi is still dying. Bleeding all over Lu Guang’s nice white button up. He’ll have to throw it out. He’ll have to clean the blood out from under his fingernails, and he’ll have to live with that memory for the rest of his life.

“I’m dying…” Cheng Xiaoshi says, and the words are more air than sound. It’s all he can manage. Speaking makes his chest hurt. Everything hurts. Another tear slides free. Lu Guang looks so scared. Cheng Xiaoshi is so tired. “...Aren’t I?”

“You’re not,” Lu Guang tells him, pleading. “You can’t.” He presses harder. Cheng Xiaoshi winces, and he’s dying.

“...Sorry,” he says again. He closes his eyes, not having the strength to keep them open anymore.

“Don’t,” Lu Guang begs. “Cheng Xiaoshi, don’t do that. You’ll be okay, you’re not going to die here.”

His hands are shaky. Lu Guang is not a shaky person. Cheng Xiaoshi is dying.

It’s his turn to get groceries. He doesn’t know why this sticks with him now. He doesn’t relive his life in flashes, he just thinks of groceries and the clients he was supposed to develop film for. The rent he owes Qiao Ling. That new recipe he’ll never get to try out. Lu Guang, left behind in an empty room with a bunk bed he won’t need anymore. Cheng Xiaoshi’s clothes still in the closet. His soap still in the shower.

All of the things he’ll never get to say.

“Open your eyes,” Lu Guang pleads with him. “Cheng Xiaoshi, open your eyes!”

So he does, gathering all the strength he can for it. Dying, he thinks again, hurts a lot. Lu Guang looks at him. He might be crying. Cheng Xiaoshi doesn’t know if he’s ever seen Lu Guang cry.

“Sorry,” he whispers again, just air through his lips. “Lu Guang.” I love you, he thinks. I’ve loved you. But Lu Guang will live with this memory for the rest of his life, and Cheng Xiaoshi can’t say this now. Can’t ruin his memory—the good memories—too. He hoped he’d get a little longer. That he might, one day, be able to chip away at Lu Guang’s stone cold walls just enough that saying something like this wouldn’t ruin everything. That they could’ve held hands as they walked. That they could’ve kissed on the beach or under the stars.

He’ll never know what it feels like to be loved back. Cheng Xiaoshi thinks that’s his biggest regret. His last thought—his last hope—is that Lu Guang won’t be haunted by nightmares of this.

△

On September twelfth, Cheng Xiaoshi wakes up to Lu Guang’s alarm as he does every morning. It goes off, there’s some shuffling from the upper bunk, and then silence. Blissful silence. Cheng Xiaoshi closes his eyes for another fifteen minutes of sleep until Lu Guang inevitably drags him out of bed to open the studio.

He waits, but it stays quiet. Lu Guang doesn’t get up. Cheng Xiaoshi doesn’t hear him climb down and shut himself in the bathroom. Just silence. Unsettling silence. Reluctantly, Cheng Xiaoshi wakes up.

“Lu Guang?” he calls, voice hoarse from sleep. There’s no response. Just silence, a deep, shaky breath. It worries him. “Lu Guang?” he tries again, rolling off the mattress and stepping onto the bed frame so he can see Lu Guang.

He’s sitting up, blanket pooled around his hips, phone in his lap. He’s staring at his hands. There’s nothing there. Just open palms, spread fingers. Bony knuckles, pale skin. Cheng Xiaoshi’s swallows, throat dry.

“Are you okay?” he asks, voice hushed. Lu Guang finally looks at him. Purses his lips, blinks a couple of times. He takes another one of those terrible, shaky breaths, and then he straightens up.

“Yes,” he says, but he doesn’t sound like he means it. Cheng Xiaoshi wets his lips, opens his mouth, closes it. It’s always hard talking to Lu Guang about these things. He doesn’t like Cheng Xiaoshi to ask too many questions, to get too close, to know too much.

“You had a nightmare,” Cheng Xiaoshi tries anyway, “didn’t you?”

Lu Guang looks at him. There’s this look in his eyes. Scared, haunted, a little glassy. He looks at Cheng Xiaoshi so intensely. His hair, his eyes, his hands on the railing. Really looks at him. Studies him, checks him over. And then he looks away, avoiding eye contact entirely.

Cheng Xiaoshi would climb up if he thought he was allowed, if he thought it would help. He wants to, but he doesn’t think Lu Guang would want him to. He’s probably uncomfortable as is with Cheng Xiaoshi being here. And yet, when he looks like this, it’s hard to leave him alone.

“Lu Guang,” he says, soft.

Swiftly, Lu Guang wipes beneath one eye. “Cheng Xiaoshi,” he says. He meets Cheng Xiaoshi’s eyes again, and he looks so sad. “I’m fine.”

“You’re crying,” Cheng Xiaoshi whispers. He’s never seen Lu Guang cry before.

“A nightmare,” Lu Guang whispers back, “it was just a nightmare.”

△

That nightmare, whatever it was, affects him all day. Lu Guang is exceptionally good at acting normal, but Cheng Xiaoshi knows what worry looks like on him. He could spot it with his eyes closed. In the dark. Based just on Lu Guang’s voice or the lines of his silhouette.

Lu Guang sticks close to him all day, that’s the first sign. He’s quiet about it, perhaps subtle, but Cheng Xiaoshi notices. Cheng Xiaoshi is used to clinging, not being clung to—not that Lu Guang’s hovering can really be considered clinging— so he notices. Of course he notices. Lu Guang doesn’t push him away even once. It would be nice, maybe, if it didn’t mean he was so worried about something. 

Next is the constant time checking, the way his leg bounces as he sits, the way he can’t find the patience to read more than a few pages of his book. He stares, instead, eyes unmoving on the page. Thinking about something. Overthinking it, whatever it is.

Cheng Xiaoshi doesn’t ask. He knows Lu Guang doesn’t want him to. Lu Guang is not the type of person that opens up when coaxed. Lu Guang doesn’t talk about the things that bother him, at least not to Cheng Xiaoshi.

He considers calling Qiao Ling over, but in some ways Lu Guang is even more closed off to her than he is to Cheng Xiaoshi. He respects her too much.

So Cheng Xiaoshi does nothing. He goes about his day as usual, but he lets Lu Guang follow him around and hover and scold him for being clumsy, and he lets Lu Guang disappear every now and then too. Never for long, never with any explanation. Cheng Xiaoshi doesn’t worry, because he always comes back. He just wishes he knew how to help.

It’s hard, caring so much and being able to do so little. It doesn’t feel fair when Lu Guang has comforted him through nightmare after nightmare, talked them out with him and let him lean on his shoulder. He won’t let Cheng Xiaoshi do any of that back, so this has to be enough. Sitting so close that their arms brush, cracking unfunny jokes. Offering to get boba, making noodles for lunch. These are the only things Lu Guang will accept, though Cheng Xiaoshi would offer so much more if he could.

△

Cheng Xiaoshi dies a handful of hours later. Lu Guang catches him as he falls, a bullet in his side. The expression he makes—one of utter grief, one of unparalleled horror—will stick with Cheng Xiaoshi forever if he survives this. He won’t, though. He realizes this pretty quickly.

It hurts. This is Cheng Xiaoshi’s first thought. Dying hurts so badly. He doesn’t want to die, but he wants this to be over.

“Stay with me,” Lu Guang begs him. He pulls Cheng Xiaoshi’s head into his lap, frantic, struggling out of his button up to hold it to the wound in Cheng Xiaoshi’s abdomen. “Cheng Xiaoshi,” he says, and his voice has never sounded like this before. Raw, scared, desperate. His expression too. Lu Guang is quiet, a bit stoic. He should never look like this.

Cheng Xiaoshi remembers the red rimming his eyes not even twenty four hours ago. He still doesn’t know what Lu Guang dreamed about. He didn’t ask. He guesses he’ll never get the chance.

“Lu Guang,” he croaks, and it hurts. It hurts to squeeze out the words, to breathe, to do anything at all. He can taste copper in his mouth. His vision blurs with tears that leak down his temples. Lu Guang cradles his head, brushing the hair out of his face, pressing on his side. His hands are shaking. He’s never unsteady like that. Cheng Xiaoshi is dying. “I’m dying… aren’t I?” He’s breathy to his own ears. Pained, weak. Scared, just like Lu Guang. He doesn’t want to die. He always thought he’d be a little older, with grandkids and pets and a gray, nagging Qiao Ling. A wrinkled Lu Guang. They’d still run the photo studio. They’d… maybe they could’ve held hands every now and then. Something like that.

“Don’t say that,” Lu Guang pleads. He sounds so haunted. So… There are words for it. Cheng Xiaoshi can’t think of them. It hurts too much. He sets his hand on top of Lu Guang’s, trying to squeeze. He’s too weak. Blood seeps between their fingers, slick and hot, and that’s his, that’s Cheng Xiaoshi’s. Red. Lu Guang’s white shirt. His tidy, trimmed fingernails. Later, he’ll have to clean the blood out from beneath them. He’ll dream of this, Cheng Xiaoshi knows he will. It’ll haunt him forever. He’ll wake up to the thought of it like he woke up this morning, like Cheng Xiaoshi wakes up to dreams of his parents or bad dives. He’ll cry. He’ll think about it. He’ll care entirely too much.

“Lu Guang,” Cheng Xiaoshi gasps. It hurts. It’s hard to focus. When he blinks away tears, there’s that devastated expression again. There are unshed tears in Lu Guang’s eyes. Again, Cheng Xiaoshi tries to squeeze his hand. “If I die…”

“You won’t,” Lu Guang says viciously. “Cheng Xiaoshi, you aren’t going to die here.” They both know it’s a lie. Cheng Xiaoshi has never died before, but somehow he knows it feels like this.

“If I die,” he tries again, more insistent. There are so many things he won’t have the chance to do, to say. It’s his turn to get groceries. He has film to develop. He still owes Qiao Ling rent.

He’ll never see her again. He’ll never get to bicker with her or lose to her in video games or go to karaoke with her, Xu Shanshan, and Dong Yi. He’ll die here, and that will be that. He’ll make Qiao Ling cry.

“You won’t,” Lu Guang lies again. He’s crying. Twice in twenty four hours. Cheng Xiaoshi has never seen him cry before this. “I’ll fix it. Cheng Xiaoshi, I’ll fix it.”

Cheng Xiaoshi wishes he could laugh. He wishes he could crack some joke about how Lu Guang must care about him so much to cry right now.

Lu Guang cares so much. Cheng Xiaoshi wishes they had a little longer. That he could tell him he loves him, but he can’t, he shouldn’t. Lu Guang will be haunted by this forever. It’s better if Cheng Xiaoshi doesn’t burden him with this too.

“Tell Qiao Ling… rent is in an envelope… on my desk.” His tongue feels thick. He tastes blood. Lu Guang is still looking at him like that. Cheng Xiaoshi wants to wipe his tears. He’s too weak. Everything hurts. He’s so tired.

“Don’t.” Lu Guang shakes his head. “Cheng Xiaoshi.” He brushes Cheng Xiaoshi’s hair away again, still trembling. Cheng Xiaoshi can’t manage to do more than stroke the back of Lu Guang’s hand with his thumb.

Cheng Xiaoshi smiles, blinks away a couple more tears. “...Sorry,” he whispers, and that’s that.

△

On September eleventh, they have cereal for breakfast. It’s cheap, and they’re poor, as Lu Guang likes to remind him. Cheng Xiaoshi is starting to get sick of it.

Lu Guang is quiet. He’s usually quiet, but Cheng Xiaoshi has his silences memorized, and this one feels different. He chews his cereal and drops the spoon back into his bowl, chewing as he thinks.

“Lu Guang,” he tries. Tired gray eyes lift to look at him. Beneath them, dark smudges. Lu Guang looks like he hasn’t slept. He never really sleeps much, but just as Cheng Xiaoshi has Lu Guang’s silences memorized, he has his exhaustion memorized too. Lu Guang has been thinking about something, tormented by it.

They’ve had nothing but bad dives lately. Maybe it’s that. Maybe it’s something else. Lu Guang doesn’t like to tell Cheng Xiaoshi things, and that’s okay. He tries to be here anyway, even if that means he’s stuck behind a meter thick wall of steel. He knows what it feels like to have no one. Lu Guang won’t, as long as he’s here. Lu Guang will always have options.

“We should do something fun,” Cheng Xiaoshi suggests.

Lu Guang just looks at him, blank faced, and blinks. “What?”

“You have that gift card from ages ago; we could go to the bookstore!” Cheng Xiaoshi doesn’t like the bookstore. Lu Guang always spends far too long browsing, but this doesn’t matter now. Cheng Xiaoshi is happy to let Lu Guang browse as long as he wants if it’ll help.

And yet, all the suggestion earns him is Lu Guang shaking his head. “No,” he says. “We have things to do.”

They don’t, is the thing. They’ve been a bit busy with the studio, but busy means five customers instead of three. He doesn’t know where this came from. He’s never seen this kind of dead-eyed exhaustion on Lu Guang. This kind of worry, this… He doesn’t know what to call it. That’s scary, not having words for it. It sobers him.

“Still,” he says, “you deserve a break. It's obvious that you’re stressed out about something.”

Lu Guang frowns. Part of him looks puzzled. Cheng Xiaoshi can’t make sense of that, of why this would be puzzling. It makes him nervous for some reason. Nauseous. He stirs his cereal but doesn’t bother to eat it.

“I can’t,” Lu Guang says, and it sounds final.

△

The next morning, Lu Guang’s alarm shuts off as quickly as it starts. Cheng Xiaoshi blinks awake. That sick, nervous feeling still lingers. He’d felt like that all day yesterday too. Lu Guang has been off, so terribly off, and Cheng Xiaoshi doesn’t know what to do with it.

Today, there’s silence. No movement from the upper bunk. Lu Guang doesn’t come down to get ready. Cheng Xiaoshi waits for a long while, too long, before he finally sits up. There’s a lump in his throat. He’s never had to tiptoe around Lu Guang before. It feels wrong. He still feels a bit sick.

Quietly, he slips out of bed. Steps onto his bed frame so he can peer over the railing on Lu Guang’s bunk. Lu Guang is sitting up, blanket bunched in his lap. He turns his phone over in his hands again and again.

“Lu Guang,” Cheng Xiaoshi says, softer than he’d allowed himself to be yesterday. Lu Guang doesn’t like to talk, doesn’t respond to coaxing, but Cheng Xiaoshi can’t just sit here. Can’t just see him like this, live with it. He has to try, at the very least.

The only reply is an exhale. Lu Guang doesn’t even look at him. Just keeps turning his phone over and over. Something about him, the slope of his shoulders, the set of his spine, it looks sad. Cheng Xiaoshi doubts he slept. It makes him feel secondhand tired. Secondhand sad. Lu Guang is always so composed, even after everything. He has his days like Cheng Xiaoshi has his days, but they aren’t like this. It’s not… It isn’t right.

Cheng Xiaoshi steps down, and then he climbs quietly into Lu Guang’s bunk and makes himself a buffer.

Again, Lu Guang sighs. He looks up, and he’s quiet. He spends a long time studying Cheng Xiaoshi’s face, his shoulders, his hands. “I’ll be down in a minute,” he says, so tiredly that Cheng Xiaoshi’s heart kind of breaks.

“I think,” he says carefully, lowering himself onto his side next to Lu Guang’s hip, “we can stay here for a little while.” He reaches out, hooks his fingers in Lu Guang’s shirt. They look at each other for a breath, then two. Lu Guang’s dark circles look like bruises. Thumbprints of ink. Slowly, he lays down too. Cheng Xiaoshi’s hand falls free between them.

“You were crying,” he murmurs, close enough to see the red rimming Lu Guang’s eyes. He’s never seen Lu Guang cry before.

Lu Guang stares at his collar. His gaze dips down to some spot on his abdomen, and then his eyes squeeze shut. Cheng Xiaoshi has limits. He can’t leave this alone between them. Not when he cares this much.

“What’s going on?” he asks, gently but not too gently. Softly but not too softly. Lu Guang looks at him again. He wets his dry, cracked lips.

“It’s nothing,” he says.

“It’s not, though.”

Silence. Careful, Cheng Xiaoshi reaches out and touches Lu Guang’s hand. Curls his fingers around it. Lu Guang doesn’t pull away, just lets him. Quietly, flips his hand so their fingers can slot together.

“Don’t worry about it,” he whispers. “I’ll fix it tomorrow. It’s— Everything will be okay tomorrow.”

△

Cheng Xiaoshi gets shot, and then he dies. He thinks he’s dying. It hurts like he’s dying. The world narrows down to the pain in his side and the way Lu Guang cradles him in his lap. It’s nice, that Lu Guang’s there. One of Cheng Xiaoshi’s greatest fears is dying alone. He won’t, though. There’s solace in that. He just wishes it didn’t hurt so damn much.

“Lu Guang,” he croaks, tears blurring his vision, the wound making it hard to breathe. Lu Guang presses his white button up to it. Stains it red. His hands are covered in blood. It’s beneath his fingernails. He’ll have to scrub them clean, and he’ll have to live with the memory for the rest of his life. Cheng Xiaoshi is regretful. He doesn’t want to leave behind a legacy like this.

“I’m dying, aren’t I?” He says it with an attempt at a smile. It’s not a convincing one. No one can really smile when they bleed out. Still, he tries. He wants Lu Guang to stop looking so sad.

“Stop saying that,” Lu Guang tells him, broken and devastated and sad, so sad; a smile can’t fix that. “You’re always saying that.”

Cheng Xiaoshi has never said that before, but the fact doesn’t register. He can’t focus. His head is too foggy from the pain. He’s so weak, so tired. He always thought he’d have more time. That he’d grow old in the photo studio with his friends at his side. That maybe Lu Guang, who cares, who so obviously cares, could grow to love him.

“I’ll fix it,” Lu Guang says, promises. He’s crying again. The second time Cheng Xiaoshi has seen him cry. His hands shake as he brushes the hair from Cheng Xiaoshi’s forehead. “I said I would fix it.”

Cheng Xiaoshi bleeds and bleeds and a small part of him thinks this makes sense. Lu Guang had been so ready to catch him when he fell.

“You…” His eyes blur again. He blinks away tears and he bleeds and he hurts. It’s so hard to breathe. He’s so tired. He doesn’t want to die. He doesn’t know how it’s possible. “...Lived this. Before.”

Lu Guang’s expression shatters. “I’ll fix it,” he repeats, and it isn’t an admission, but it feels like one. “I won’t let you die here.”

Cheng Xiaoshi gathers the strength to lift his hand, laying it over Lu Guang’s on his side. His fingers slip in his own blood. “...How?” he gasps. There’s no reply, so he weakly squeezes Lu Guang’s hand. “Lu Guang,” he tries. Death is an unchangeable node. There are so many things he’ll never have the chance to say or do. Groceries, film, rent. He looks at Lu Guang. White hair, gray eyes, the darkest dark circles he’s ever seen on a person in his life. Lu Guang is stoic, solemn. This kind of expression doesn’t suit him. Cheng Xiaoshi just wants him happy. Just wishes they could have that. “Before I die…”

“Stop,” Lu Guang cuts him off. Desperate. Desperation doesn’t suit him either. “You’re not going to die, Cheng Xiaoshi.”

“I am, though,” Cheng Xiaoshi manages to say. Each word hurts, each breath hurts. He wishes he could’ve died gently. “You know. You saw.”

“Stop,” Lu Guang pleads.

Maybe in another life Cheng Xiaoshi will be braver. Brave enough to hug him when he’s sad and hold his hand when he’s not. Brave enough to talk to him. Brave enough to love him in a way that doesn’t end like this. Maybe a different Cheng Xiaoshi could have that, if only for a moment. Maybe not.

“Before I die…” he starts again, pausing as he runs out of air. Black spots dance in his vision. He tastes blood but has nowhere to spit it but Lu Guang’s lap. “Tell… Tell Qiao Ling-jie that… rent is on my desk. And…” Another breath. His vision is so fuzzy. He watches Lu Guang furiously wipe his tears with his wrist. “And, Lu Guang, I…” He can’t think. His eyes close.

“No,” Lu Guang is saying, “no, no, Cheng Xiaoshi!”

He’s so tired. Everything hurts. He was saying something, but he can’t remember what. Love you, he thinks. Love you, love you. There’s Lu Guang’s hand on his forehead. His fingers are cool. Gentle, though shaky. There are worse ways to die.

△

Cheng Xiaoshi wakes up on September tenth with a full bladder and a crick in his neck. He tries massaging the sore spots but it doesn’t help much. He’ll just have to wait for the ache to go away.

Breakfast is congee. It’s kind of gross, but it’s cheap, and they’re poor, so it does the job. Lu Guang showers first thing, so Cheng Xiaoshi doesn’t see him much in the morning before he heads out on a couple of errands. When he comes back, the studio isn’t open. The sign on the door still says they’re closed. He stares at it, and then he goes inside.

“Lu Guang? Why aren’t we open?” The lights are off. A chill creeps up his spine, and Cheng Xiaoshi peeks his head into the sunroom. It’s empty, and suddenly he’s afraid. “Lu Guang?” he calls again, changing course to climb upstairs to their shared room. “Did something happen? Are you— Ah.” He runs into Lu Guang at the door. They blink at each other, Lu Guang with his dark circles, Cheng Xiaoshi with his sudden, irrational panic. He brings a hand to his chest and leans his weight into the wall.

“You nearly gave me a heart attack,” he complains, catching his breath from running up the stairs, though he hadn’t been winded at all a moment ago. “What happened? Why didn’t you open the studio?”

Lu Guang looks at him quietly for a moment, lingering until Cheng Xiaoshi straightens back up. “I didn’t feel like it,” he says simply.

“You didn’t… What?” Cheng Xiaoshi gapes, but Lu Guang only shakes his head and turns around to go back into their room. Cheng Xiaoshi follows. “You’ve never just ‘not felt like it’ before. Why didn’t you say something, or, I don’t know—”

“Cheng Xiaoshi,” Lu Guang interrupts. Cheng Xiaoshi frowns at him. “Let’s do something today.”

△

They play basketball like old times. Same old court. Same old ball, buried under a pile of stuff in the closet. It’s familiar and it’s new at once. They haven’t done this in a while. Lu Guang still isn’t the best at it. One on one, he loses every time. They break for water, and Cheng Xiaoshi finds a nice spot on the pavement to collapse onto.

He catches his breath. The weather is nice today. Cool but not cold. The leaves are just starting to yellow. Cheng Xiaoshi hays down on his back, pillowing his head on his arms. The sun hangs in the center of the sky, half covered by clouds. He closes his eyes and studies the veins in his own eyelids made red by the light.

A shadow falls over him. When he blinks one eye open, there’s Lu Guang, back with the ball.

“Get up,” he says, nudging Cheng Xiaoshi’s shoulder with his foot. “The ground is dirty.”

Cheng Xiaoshi looks at him. Bare knees, brown shorts, a black shirt. White hair given a halo by the sun. He’s frowning, and there’s sweat on his upper lip. Cheng Xiaoshi reaches out and slips a finger into his sock, tugging on it.

“Lay down,” he says back, letting the elastic slap against a pale ankle. “It’s more fun down here.”

Lu Guang doesn’t lay down, of course not, but he sighs and he sits cross-legged at Cheng Xiaoshi’s shoulder. He sets the ball down, and it rolls into his hip. Cheng Xiaoshi is pleased. He smiles a little, lets his eyes fall closed.

“Hey, Lu Guang?” he asks. A soft hum comes in reply. He lifts his hand, bumps Lu Guang’s shin before he finds his shoelace, hooking his fingers in the loops. “This is nice.”

Soft, humoring, “Is it?”

Lu Guang humors him a lot; Cheng Xiaoshi doesn’t know why he only realizes this now. Maybe that’s something. Maybe that’s special. He’s probably delusional. Today has been nice. Cheng Xiaoshi hasn’t had a really nice day for a while now, but today his mind is quiet and comfortable in a soft way. Empty but for nice things. Lu Guang bats his hand away when he unties one shoelace. His fingers are cool, even after exercise. Cheng Xiaoshi wants to look at him again, so he does, even though the sun kind of blinds him in the process.

“Yeah,” he says, squinting a little. Lu Guang looks the same as always. He’s Cheng Xiaoshi’s best friend. He’s so many things. He raises a hand to cast a shadow across Cheng Xiaoshi’s eyes, and that feels like something too. Special. Maybe Cheng Xiaoshi is too loud to notice all the quiet things Lu Guang does for him.

“We can go again sometime,” Lu Guang says.

“Promise?” he asks. Lu Guang doesn’t stop him when he reaches to play with his shoelace again.

Something in his expression softens then. Quietly, like always. Sadly, almost. “Sure,” he says. “I promise.”

△

They get milk tea and drink it as they walk home. Cheng Xiaoshi holds the basketball under one arm. Condensation drips over his fingers. His chest feels light. Part of him is nervous. Just a little. Only a little, because this is still Lu Guang. Still Cheng Xiaoshi’s best friend and favorite person in the world. Alongside Qiao Ling, of course, but she’s like his sister, so she only kind of counts.

“You’re too nice today,” Cheng Xiaoshi jokes, because saying things out loud has always been his style. “What’s up with that?”

Lu Guang only frowns at him.

“Don’t give me that,” Cheng Xiaoshi says, wrinkling his nose. “You’ve been nice! You haven’t called me an idiot even once today.”

Lu Guang looks away and takes a sip of his tea. “...Idiot,” he mumbles after a moment.

Their shoulders bump. “That one doesn’t count.”

Another few steps. Cheng Xiaoshi makes them bump again. “Childish,” Lu Guang says this time.

“That doesn’t count either; quit it,” Cheng Xiaoshi scolds him. “It’s not like you have a quota for how many times you need to be mean to me each day.”

“Maybe I do.”

“Wait a minute,” Cheng Xiaoshi says, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk. Lu Guang stops a pace ahead, turning with that frown still on his face. “Are you shy?”

The frown deepens. “No.” Lu Guang turns away and starts walking again, making Cheng Xiaoshi jog to catch up.

“You totally are!” he laughs. “A-Guang is shy, how cute—”

“Shut up,” Lu Guang says. For good measure, he adds, “...Idiot.” But he doesn’t protest when Cheng Xiaoshi tucks the basketball under the arm holding his drink so he can wrap the other around his shoulders as they walk. Just grumbles a little more. Probably blushes with red tipped ears beneath all that hair. Cheng Xiaoshi, embarrassingly, is in love. And for once, he feels okay with that.

△

Days later, he takes a shot to the side. It hurts like hell. His hand comes to clutch at the wound, and he can feel his own blood gush beneath his fingers. The heat of it scares him. His knees buckle, but Lu Guang is there to catch him. He helps Cheng Xiaoshi to the floor, and that’s nice. He’s so steady, like he’s prepared for this, like Cheng Xiaoshi isn’t dying.

Chaos, but Lu Guang is here. “It’s okay,” he says, panicked, but still kind of steady. His hands only shake a little as he helps Cheng Xiaoshi cover the wound, stripping off his button up and balling it up. They hold it in place together, bloody fingers slipping against bloody fingers. It’s life that leaks out between them. “It’s okay, Cheng Xiaoshi.”

It’s nice, knowing he’s there. Knowing he somehow knows what to do, that he’s prepared. That he’s attuned to Cheng Xiaoshi enough to catch him in the split second after he fell. Everyone should have that. Someone who’s just… there for them like that. He might die, but Lu Guang is here, and somehow that makes him feel slightly less afraid.

“Am I going to die?” he asks, kind of gasping. The pain is the worst of his life. It makes him nauseous, but Lu Guang is here, leaning Cheng Xiaoshi against him. He’s steady, he’s solid and stable, and Cheng Xiaoshi isn’t ready to die. He doesn’t want to. He thought he’d have longer. He has so many things he isn’t ready to leave behind.

“No,” Lu Guang says, carding his fingers through Cheng Xiaoshi’s hair, bringing it away from his forehead. And that’s nice, that would be nice if Cheng Xiaoshi weren’t about to die, if he could actually enjoy it. “You’re not going to die, Cheng Xiaoshi.” Cheng Xiaoshi can’t see his face with their position. He wants to look, but he doesn’t feel physically capable. He looks at their hands instead, tangled fingers, so much blood. If he isn’t mistaken, Lu Guang’s voice trembles a little. “It isn’t fatal.”

It’s hard to breathe. Cheng Xiaoshi tastes iron. This hurts more than anything else he’s experienced in his life. He tries to laugh, but that just makes it hurt more, so he wheezes instead. “And how would you know?” he gets out, pressing his head back into Lu Guang’s ribs as the pain makes him sick.

“You—” Lu Guang takes a breath. “You wouldn’t be able to breathe if it hit a lung or something important,” he says, arm wrapping across Cheng Xiaoshi’s chest, keeping him steady. And that’s nice too, would be nice too. One day. One day, Cheng Xiaoshi thinks. One day. Maybe. If he lives long enough. “You’ll survive.”

“Lu Guang,” he tries, tongue thick, mouth dry. He thinks of himself old and gray in the photo studio, Lu Guang and Qiao Ling with him. He thinks of the groceries he hasn’t gotten yet. The film he hasn’t developed. The rent he hasn’t paid. Lu Guang, here. Lu Guang, who’s been by his side since that day years ago on the basketball court. Who’s been a little off the past few days. Not off in a bad way, off in a nice one. Kinder to him, gentler, more affectionate. Lu Guang, who caught him so readily. He’s Cheng Xiaoshi’s best friend, his favorite person. Cheng Xiaoshi probably isn’t dying, but he might be, and he thinks that if he doesn’t say something now, he never will, and he’ll regret it. “In case I die…”

“You won’t,” Lu Guang says firmly. Cheng Xiaoshi almost believes him. Halfway believes him, because he trusts his best friend but he’s also in more pain than he’s ever felt in his life. Bleeding out. One person only has so much blood to lose. It’s all over the floor, the button up. Their hands. Lu Guang’s fingernails.

“Okay,” he says. Words hurt. Everything hurts. “But… It feels like I am, and…” An inhale. A wave of nausea. His eyes well up with tears and he fights himself to swallow. “I want to say…” Even now, he’s not brave enough. “Lu Guang, I—”

“You’re not dying,” Lu Guang shushes him. More desperate now, less steady. He’s scared too. Cheng Xiaoshi is glad he’s scared. Is that bad? He’s glad, because it means Lu Guang cares. That he’ll worry the whole time Cheng Xiaoshi is recovering. That he’ll stay by his side.

They won’t leave each other, the two of them. Cheng Xiaoshi has never been sure of something like that in his life. He’s never just known that someone isn’t going to leave him. He’s never felt like someone is permanent.

“Okay,” he croaks. “Okay, then… When I wake up in the hospital, we’ll talk about this… I’ll tell you now, and… You’ll stay with me… And when I wake up…”

“You’ll wake up, Cheng Xiaoshi,” Lu Guang tells him. A promise. It feels like a promise. Cheng Xiaoshi wants to look at him, wants to so badly. To see those familiar, tired gray eyes. The face of this person that he loves so much. This person that stays for him. He can’t move much. He’ll see Lu Guang when he wakes up.

“I’ll wake up,” he agrees, because he’s sure of it now. He isn’t dying, though his strength has left him, though he’s in so much pain. His vision dances with dark spots, but that’s just the blood loss. He’ll pass out soon, but he won’t die. He’ll wake up in the hospital, and he’ll take months to recover, but he’ll be okay. “You’ll be there. Won’t you?”

“I’ll be there.”

Cheng Xiaoshi closes his eyes. “Lu Guang.”

“I’m here,” Lu Guang says, voice wavering. “I’ll be here.”

“I…” Cheng Xiaoshi can be brave now. He should be. He has to be. Now or never. After this, they’ll talk. “Love you. A lot. Romantically. And— When I wake up, let’s… talk… about that.” The last word out, he struggles through another breath. It’s wet and rasping. He loses a bit more around the edges of his vision.

There’s a long silence. Maybe it’s long, maybe it’s short. Every second feels agonizing. Every breath, every moment of this. All Cheng Xiaoshi knows is too much raw sensation. One day, months in the future, he’ll walk away from this with a killer scar and a story to tell.

“Alright,” Lu Guang tells him softly. “We’ll talk about it when you wake up.”

“...Promise?”

“Yes, Cheng Xiaoshi.” He sounds sad. This is Cheng Xiaoshi’s last thought. “I promise.”

△

On September ninth, Cheng Xiaoshi wakes covered in a cold sweat. His heart pounds. He catches his breath, folding a hand over his chest, closing his eyes. He can’t even remember what he’d been dreaming about.

The bunk above creaks. Quietly, Lu Guang climbs down. He doesn’t say anything, just gestures for Cheng Xiaoshi to scoot over and climbs into bed beside him. They lay shoulder to shoulder. Cheng Xiaoshi’s heart calms. He swallows thickly, clears his throat.

“Thanks,” he says, voice small. Lu Guang doesn’t always do this. Not without being prompted. Usually he’ll just stay in his own bunk and listen to Cheng Xiaoshi talk. Sometimes he comes down. Sometimes Cheng Xiaoshi asks. He didn’t today. He just woke up, and then Lu Guang was there.

Lu Guang doesn’t say anything for a moment. He rests his hands on his belly, staring at his own mattress above them. Their arms brush. He’s warm. Cheng Xiaoshi is still sweating.

“What did you dream of?” Lu Guang asks. He doesn’t usually ask, even if Cheng Xiaoshi usually tells.

“I don’t remember,” Cheng Xiaoshi whispers, honest. He feels the beat of his own heart slamming against his ribs, taps it out on his chest. “Maybe it was the earthquake again, maybe my parents. Maybe I was dying.”

“You’re alive,” Lu Guang tells him firmly. Cheng Xiaoshi looks at him. His terrible bedhead, his ever present dark circles. He’s… he’s looking at Cheng Xiaoshi kind of softly.

“Yeah,” Cheng Xiaoshi says, heart thumping. “You are too.”

Slowly, Lu Guang nods. They look at each other for a little while longer, and then he says, “Let’s not open today, Cheng Xiaoshi.”

And Cheng Xiaoshi is still tired, still shaken. Lu Guang so rarely suggests things like this. “Okay,” he agrees.

So they stay in bed for a while longer. Laying like that. Side by side. It’s comfortable in a way Cheng Xiaoshi really only dreamed he’d be with someone. It’s nice, being reminded that someone cares for him. That someone likes to be around him, even if he’s loud and annoying and clingy. Lu Guang acts cold, but he’s never been anything but warm. It’s nice to remember that. Cheng Xiaoshi forgets the nightmare, the fear. Just focuses on this.

“What should we do instead?” he asks, voice somewhat soft. The atmosphere seems to call for it.

“Anything you like,” Lu Guang murmurs back. Cheng Xiaoshi looks at him, watches him swallow. “We could play basketball, if you want. Or we could go somewhere. See a movie or get boba, or…”

“Basketball,” Cheng Xiaoshi echoes. It’s nostalgic. He smiles a little. “We haven’t played in so long.”

“I’m still not any good at it.”

“I know,” he says. “I don’t care about that.”

△

It’s the same old court. The same old ball buried in the closet. Lu Guang knew where it was somehow, found it with ease before Cheng Xiaoshi could waste an hour looking. They go after breakfast. It’s past eleven but it’s cold out. It rained the night before. The ground is a little bit wet, and Cheng Xiaoshi shivers in a pair of navy shorts.

They play for a couple of hours. Lu Guang is bad but not as bad as expected. Cheng Xiaoshi still beats him every time. Still loses himself in it. He sweats, he has fun. He laughs more than he’s laughed in a while. It’s nice. It feels good. When they decide to quit, he collapses on the damp ground and takes a long drink of water. It leaves him out of breath. He wipes his mouth on his sleeve and lays the rest of the way down.

Lu Guang comes back with the ball. His shadow blocks the sun from Cheng Xiaoshi’s eyes, and his expression is far softer than it has any reason to be. “Get up,” he says, and there’s something in his voice. Something, so many things. Cheng Xiaoshi doesn’t have the words for what they are but he has words for what they make him feel. “The ground is wet.”

Cheng Xiaoshi looks at him and feels so many things. Caught, mostly. So rarely does he see an expression like this on someone like Lu Guang. So rarely does Lu Guang look so gentle. So rarely does Lu Guang look so sad.

“Barely,” Cheng Xiaoshi says, trying for playful, but it comes out all wrong. Too airy, but he’s still catching his breath. He remembers the press of Lu Guang’s shoulder against his this morning. He reaches out and hooks his finger in Lu Guang’s sock, wanting to do something, wanting to touch him. He lets the elastic slap against the skin of Lu Guang’s ankle. “It’s more fun down here.”

And Lu Guang considers him with those strangely soft eyes of his, and then he lays down beside Cheng Xiaoshi. A mirror image of this morning, but the ground is cold and wet, and this is Lu Guang. And this is Cheng Xiaoshi, caught off guard and rapt. His heart beats. Their shoulders brush. Lu Guang does not do things like this, and Cheng Xiaoshi feels so many things.

“You actually came down,” he laughs.

Lu Guang looks at him. “You wanted me too.”

And Cheng Xiaoshi almost says it right then and there. I’m in love with you, he thinks. I’ve never loved anyone in my life, but I know it’s supposed to feel like this. “I did.”

“You wanted me to come down, so I came down.”

I’m so in love with you, Cheng Xiaoshi thinks again. It sits in his throat, forming a lump. He swallows around it, but it does not go away.

△

They get milk tea after. Lu Guang is mostly quiet, as he always is, but he keeps looking. He keeps acting like this, and Cheng Xiaoshi… Cheng Xiaoshi is not the strongest or the smartest or the bravest, but he feels so much, and he’s fairly certain this means something. He holds the ball under one arm and his drink in the other, and he thinks.

“Lu Guang?” he asks. A soft hum. They walk together, close enough that they bump every few steps. What is this? Cheng Xiaoshi wants to ask. Why are you so kind to me today? He briefly entertains pity, that Lu Guang might feel bad for him after his nightmare, but Lu Guang’s never pitied him before. He’s had so many nightmares before this, so many bad dives, so many experiences so much worse than this, and Lu Guang’s never pitied him for those. It wouldn’t make sense for him to pity him for this. “Is something up with you?”

“How so?” Lu Guang glances at him, soft in a dozen shades. Cold by the way he shivers, goosebumps on his bare arms, but he doesn’t complain. He isn’t like Cheng Xiaoshi. He rarely complains. Rarely voices his feelings at all. Maybe it wasn’t the best day for boba after all.

“You seem…” Cheng Xiaoshi turns words over in his mouth, looking for the right ones. Some are too harsh, some too telling, some just don’t fit at all. “...Kind of sad,” Cheng Xiaoshi tries. He wouldn’t normally. He doesn’t normally ask if Lu Guang doesn’t want to tell him, but… Today is different, and Cheng Xiaoshi wouldn’t be much of a friend if he didn’t at least try.

“I’m okay,” Lu Guang says.

Condensation drips over Cheng Xiaoshi’s fingers from his drink. He takes a sip, chews on a tapioca pearl. “I believe you,” he says carefully, “but you’re acting strangely.”

A pause. He watches Lu Guang swallow. “How so?”

“Stop that,” Cheng Xiaoshi scolds him, bumping their shoulders together. “You know what I mean. You’re too nice today, Lu Guang, and you keep looking at me like…” He cuts off, breath hitching, the words stuck in his throat. Lu Guang looks at him, looks at him. They stopped walking. Cheng Xiaoshi doesn’t remember when.

“Like what?” Lu Guang asks softly, like he isn’t doing it right now.

“Like that,” Cheng Xiaoshi tells him, but Lu Guang only keeps staring. “You’re not stupid, Lu Guang, so don’t pretend to be.”

“What do you want me to say?” A genuine question. Cheng Xiaoshi wasn’t made to answer questions like these. He’s far too reckless. He isn’t brave, he’s just—

“I want you to say that you like me.” It’s too loud, too telling, too much. He breaks eye contact, kind of ashamed of himself. He doesn’t really want to see Lu Guang’s face, and yet, and yet.

“I like you,” Lu Guang says. Cheng Xiaoshi’s gaze snaps up. There, an earnest face. Dark circles. That same soft, sad expression. Lu Guang doesn’t play games like these.

“What?”

“I like you,” Lu Guang repeats. He swallows, and this time it’s him that looks away. “You wanted me to say it, so I said it.”

Like when he laid down next to Cheng Xiaoshi on the cold, wet ground at the basketball court. “I wanted you to mean it,” Cheng Xiaoshi says.

“And I did,” Lu Guang tells him. “I do.”

Is it really that easy? Cheng Xiaoshi wonders. Has it been this easy all along? He’s spent half a year hiding. Does it really end just like this? A nice day and a couple of nice words. Is that really it takes?

“Okay,” he says, tongue thick in his mouth, heart thick in his throat. He can feel it beat. He can feel so many things. “I like you too.”

△

Back home in the sunroom, Cheng Xiaoshi sits. The basketball rests on the table, abandoned, flanked by an empty milk tea cup on each side. Ice in the bottom of one, half a watered down sip in the other. Lu Guang always asks for less ice.

“You like me,” Cheng Xiaoshi says. Wonders, maybe. It doesn’t come out quite like a question, but it feels like one. The idea doesn’t feel quite real to him yet.

Lu Guang, beside him, does not make eye contact. “Yes.”

“And I like you.”

“Presumably.”

“So what now?” Silence. Cheng Xiaoshi swallows. “Lu Guang, say something.”

Lu Guang fiddles with his watch. His hands are pale and slender, and Cheng Xiaoshi has never really held them before. “What do you want to do?”

Cheng Xiaoshi frowns. “I asked first.”

“Your answer to my question is relevant to my answer to yours.”

Maybe Cheng Xiaoshi should’ve figured he’d be like this. Lu Guang has never liked talking about his feelings. “This can’t only be about what I want,” Cheng Xiaoshi says. He watches Lu Guang’s hands fidget. He wants to stop them with his own, but he doesn’t. Doesn’t know how to.

“Whatever you want, I probably want too,” Lu Guang tells him.

“Right,” Cheng Xiaoshi says, “and if I wanted to end this right here and never speak about it again, that’s what you’d want too? You wouldn’t fight me on it?”

Lu Guang finally looks at him, hands stilling. His mouth twitches downward. He looks upset by this, at the very least. “I’d… respect it. If that’s what you really wanted.”

“Lu Guang.”

“Cheng Xiaoshi.”

“What do you want?” Cheng Xiaoshi asks. “Because I’ve wanted to date you for at least half a year now, but I don’t want it if you aren’t a hundred percent certain you want it too.”

“I do,” Lu Guang tells him. “I do want it too.”

Cheng Xiaoshi studies him and his soft expression. He’s starting to get used to it now. It’s not so startling, a Lu Guang who looks at him softly. He just… doesn’t understand why he looks so sad. “Okay,” he says.

“Okay,” Lu Guang echoes.

“So we just… date?”

“If you want that.”

“Lu Guang.”

“Yes,” Lu Guang says. “Yes, I’d like that.”

Quietly, awkwardly, maybe, Cheng Xiaoshi reaches for his hand. Lu Guang’s palms are clammy. It’s charming in a way that it shouldn’t be. Cheng Xiaoshi squeezes his hand, feels him squeeze back. His heart beats. He tries to be calm, tries not to grin and make too much of a fool of himself. “Okay,” he says, taking a breath. “I’d like that too.”

△

Very little changes. It comes as a surprise, though it likely shouldn’t. They’re still Lu Guang and Cheng Xiaoshi. Cheng Xiaoshi and Lu Guang. A change in relationship does not constitute a change in identity.

They go to sleep. They wake up. They open the photo studio. Lu Guang lingers a little more than usual, but he doesn’t do anything. Just hovers in doorways, takes longer to say goodbye. Cheng Xiaoshi catches him staring sometimes. He’s a bit like a shadow, but he’s always been like that. Cheng Xiaoshi is glad they don’t become something else. This has always felt stable to him. Safe. He thinks it would scare him if they changed.

And then there’s this: A bottle of wine they share after closing. Cheng Xiaoshi’s been saving it for a special occasion. He thinks this can be one. A celebration for the start of something. He doesn’t say that, doesn’t say anything about the way the wine stains Lu Guang’s mouth red. He would kiss him, long and breathless, within an inch of his life, but with newness comes uncertainty, and Cheng Xiaoshi still isn’t sure if Lu Guang would want that from him. Maybe. Maybe not. He knows many of Lu Guang’s moods, but he’s never known his want. He doesn’t know what to look for.

He pushes this thought away, searches for something else instead. Lu Guang sits beside him. Close enough to touch. Close enough to put his mouth on. He squeezes his eyes shut. “What do we tell Qiao Ling-jie?”

Lu Guang’s mouth makes a sound as it parts. Cheng Xiaoshi swallows around nothing. He isn’t even drunk. Just tipsy. Only tipsy. He takes another sip, and it warms him all the way through. Dangerous.

“Are you worried?” Lu Guang asks him. Gentle and earnest. His voice is like ash or honey or something else that’s smooth like that. Cheng Xiaoshi digs his nails into his own thigh.

“No,” he says, and then thinks about it. “Well. Maybe. I just…” Words. He doesn’t have them. Can’t find them. Doesn’t know where to look. He’s so warm.

“I don’t think she’ll react badly,” Lu Guang offers. Gentle and earnest. Cheng Xiaoshi knows what he sounds like speaking directly into his head. He can taste that. Is it possible to taste that? To feel someone so deeply you know them on your tongue. He wants that, he wants—

“She wouldn’t,” Cheng Xiaoshi agrees. He opens his eyes. Finds his own sunroom. A sky not quite full of stars. Too much light pollution. “It’s just scary anyway.”

“She’s basically your sister.”

“And you’re…” He looks at Lu Guang now. Lu Guang, who seems made of shadows in this half darkness. They’ve turned on a single lamp. He’s blue and yellow in pieces. A mouth smeared in red. Cheng Xiaoshi wonders if he’s been sleeping.

“I’m…?” Lu Guang blinks, head cocking a little. Wine in his pale, slender hand. Cheng Xiaoshi has held that hand. Has known it. There’s so much left of Lu Guang to know. His waist, his shoulders, his red mouth.

Cheng Xiaoshi doesn’t remember what he was saying. “What?”

“Finish your sentence,” Lu Guang prompts. “I’m what?”

“You’re…” Cheng Xiaoshi’s tongue feels thick. He reaches for water before the wine makes him lose the rest of his sense. Lu Guang waits as he drinks, and then still as he restarts. “You’re…” Best friend isn’t right anymore, even if it’s still true. Brother might come off as strange and incestuous. Boyfriend could be right, but Cheng Xiaoshi doesn’t like the way it feels in his mouth. It doesn’t feel like Lu Guang. It doesn’t feel good enough. It doesn’t feel sure enough. Cheng Xiaoshi has never been surer about anyone. “You’re my partner,” he offers, and it feels right. Lu Guang is his partner in so many things. 

Lu Guang smiles a little, hardly a smile at all. He seems pleased with this, and he’s beautiful in pleasure. Would be. Cheng Xiaoshi wants to kiss him the way he wants air.

“Lu Guang,” he says.

“Cheng Xiaoshi,” he gets back, and feels it in the tips of his fingers.

“I want to kiss you so bad.”

Lu Guang smiles again, wider, softer, sadder. Why does he always look so sad? “You’re drunk, Cheng Xiaoshi.”

He is. Tipsy, at least. Only tipsy. At least that’s what he tells himself. “I’d want it just as bad if I was sober.”

“I believe you,” Lu Guang tells him, but it isn’t a yes. Cheng Xiaoshi won’t take anything that isn’t a yes.

“When can I do it, then?” he wonders.

Quiet. Lu Guang looks at him. Keeps looking at him, studying him inch by inch like mapping him out, like memorizing him. No one has ever memorized Cheng Xiaoshi before. He wants to shiver, but he holds it back. He wants Lu Guang to not look so sad.

“The fourteenth,” Lu Guang says. “You can kiss me as much as you want then.”

“The fourteenth,” Cheng Xiaoshi echoes, more air than sound. “What’s so special about the fourteenth?”

“Nothing at all,” Lu Guang says, and Cheng Xiaoshi is too drunk to do anything but believe him.

△

Cheng Xiaoshi plans their first date at work. When they don’t have a client, which is most of the time, he looks up things to do. He finds what movies are playing, looks into restaurants they haven’t tried, checks if there are any festivals or interesting events nearby. He finds so many things. Too many things. None of them feel right.

A client comes in. Cheng Xiaoshi helps them take passport photos, and then it comes to him. He wants to take Lu Guang to the beach. That can be it. Their first date. The water might be cold at this point in the season, but Lu Guang doesn’t like swimming anyway. He can read on the shore. They could go at night and walk under the stars.

The fourteenth, he thinks. They’ll go on the fourteenth.

△

That night, Cheng Xiaoshi lays in bed and he thinks about it. Listens to Lu Guang breathe in the bunk above him. He isn’t sleeping, based on the pattern. Lu Guang has trouble falling asleep, Cheng Xiaoshi has trouble staying asleep. Two sides of a coin. Cheng Xiaoshi fiddles with his sheet.

“Lu Guang,” he says, a bit softly this late. Lu Guang hums in response. “Let’s go to the beach.”

Sheets rustle. The bunk bed creaks. “What, now?”

Cheng Xiaoshi lets out something cousin to a laugh, more air than sound. “No,” he says. “I meant… later. This weekend, maybe.” The fourteenth, he doesn’t say. He wants Lu Guang to kiss him on the beach. It might be nice.

Lu Guang taps his fingers against the metal railing around his bunk. “Why all of a sudden?” he murmurs. A shiver goes down Cheng Xiaoshi’s spine. He swallows, tastes his heart in his throat.

“Just because.” He’s no good at lying. Lu Guang is quiet. Cheng Xiaoshi is too.

“Okay,” Lu Guang says after a moment. “We can go. Whenever you want.”

△

They don’t make it to the beach. Cheng Xiaoshi gets shot, and it kind of ruins everything.

He stumbles a step back, two, and then his knees buckle. Lu Guang yells his name and catches him, lowering him to the ground, but he’s too busy staring at the rapidly growing stain in his shirt. His ears are ringing. He watches himself bleed out and all he can think is, not here, not now. September thirteenth, sometime after midnight. They’ll write it on his gravestone.

Lu Guang presses his balled up shirt to the wound, firm but shaky. There’s blood on him, on Cheng Xiaoshi. Everywhere. So much red. It takes Cheng Xiaoshi’s body heat as it leaves him. He’ll die cold.

Not now, Cheng Xiaoshi thinks, please not now. He’s too young. He has too many things he isn’t ready to leave behind.

“Cheng Xiaoshi,” Lu Guang is saying, “it’ll be okay, you’ll be okay.” He holds Cheng Xiaoshi to him tightly. He looks so sad. Cheng Xiaoshi will never know what it’s like to kiss him, to tell him he loves him. They never got to tell Qiao Ling. They never made it to the beach. They never made it to September fourteenth.

Nothing at all, Cheng Xiaoshi thinks. It echoes in his head over and over. His vision unfocuses, refocuses as a tear slips free. Lu Guang looks so sad. Helpless. Hopeless. So many things, but surprised isn’t one of them.

“You…” Cheng Xiaoshi tastes metal. Speaking feels like twisting a knife. “You knew,” he gets out, “...this would happen.”

Lu Guang’s expression shifts. Haunted. Afraid now. “Cheng Xiaoshi…”

“You can’t,” Cheng Xiaoshi says. “...Lu Guang.”

Lu Guang brings Cheng Xiaoshi’s hand to the wound, making him press on it, blood slick fingers holding fast. “I’m not going to let you die,” he promises.

It’s horrifying, in a way. To know someone loves you so wholly they would try to rewrite the past. That instead of grieving you they would lose themselves clawing for you back. “Don’t,” Cheng Xiaoshi croaks. The pain makes everything blurry. It’s difficult to string his thoughts together. “Lu Guang, you—”

“I can’t live in a timeline without you,” Lu Guang confesses, voice small but strong, firm but broken. He cups Cheng Xiaoshi’s cheek in his bloody hand. Wipes his tears. Tries to. “I just can’t.”

Cheng Xiaoshi can’t feel much anymore. Blackness starts to take over his vision. He knows he’s dying, but this scares him less than the thought of Lu Guang trying to save him. “You’re no God,” he gets out. Death nodes can not be changed.

Lu Guang hunches, pressing their foreheads together, thumbing over his cheek. “I know,” he whispers. “I know, Cheng Xiaoshi.”

“You can’t.” Cheng Xiaoshi’s voice fails him. All that comes out is air. Lu Guang hears him anyway.

“I will,” he says. Cheng Xiaoshi’s eyes fall closed. “No matter how many times it takes.”

“What about… you?”

He never hears Lu Guang’s reply, if he gives one.

△

It rains all morning on September eighth. It leaves the photo studio cold, but Cheng Xiaoshi is reluctant to turn on the heater so early in the season. Lu Guang is nowhere to be found. He left sometime in the morning. Errands, maybe, but he left his wallet at home. Cheng Xiaoshi gives him two hours before he looks for him.

It’s cold and gray out. The chill seeps through his jacket. He opens his umbrella and steps into the rain.

He checks a handful of spots Lu Guang is known to frequent. The bookstore, the library. He goes to a couple of nearby restaurants, their favorite boba place. Nothing. Lu Guang isn’t replying to his texts either. Cheng Xiaoshi walks with wet shoes and wet shins where the umbrella doesn’t cover him. The rain keeps coming down and he listens to it, breathes it in. Tries not to worry too much. Cheng Xiaoshi is a chronic worrier. Most of the time it’s unfounded. He keeps looking anyway.

He finds Lu Guang under a willow tree, drenched to the bone, staring at the sky. He’s only in a t-shirt and his button-up. No jacket. No umbrella. He lies so still he could almost be dead. Cheng Xiaoshi doesn’t call out to him, just cuts through the wet grass and squats, shifting his umbrella to cover them both, neither fully. His shoulder starts to soak through.

“Hey,” he says.

Lu Guang looks at him. His face is wet with rain. Hair plastered to him. Eyes rimmed in red. Maybe he’s been crying. Cheng Xiaoshi can’t tell. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen Lu Guang cry.

“Hi,” Lu Guang says back. He sits up, wipes his wet face with his wet sleeves. Cheng Xiaoshi shrugs out of his jacket one handed and puts it around Lu Guang’s shoulders. He’s cold without it. Lu Guang must be frozen through.

“What are you doing out here?” Cheng Xiaoshi asks. He’s hesitant. Afraid of overstepping, but he’s a chronic worrier. Lu Guang is his best friend, and Cheng Xiaoshi has never seen him like this. He can’t be anything but worried.

Lu Guang shakes his head, wiping his eyes again, pulling up his knees and wrapping his arms around them, shrinking himself down. “Sorry,” he says softly. Again, “Sorry.”

Cheng Xiaoshi opens his mouth, closes it. Frowns and then worries that his expression is too severe. “What for?” he asks. 

Lu Guang looks at him softly, tiredly, sadly. Cheng Xiaoshi knows, then, that he’s been crying. This is the first time he’s ever seen Lu Guang cry.

“Nothing,” Lu Guang says. “Worrying you.”

“Lu Guang…” Rain patters on the umbrella. Lu Guang doesn’t usually like to talk when he’s going through something. Cheng Xiaoshi isn’t the kind of person capable of letting him suffer alone. “You were crying,” he says.

“I’m okay,” Lu Guang says back. He isn’t. He’s not. Cheng Xiaoshi knows him so much better than that.

“It’s okay if you’re not.”

Lu Guang gives him a small, strained smile. “Thank you, Cheng Xiaoshi,” he tells him, pulling the jacket tight around himself. Cheng Xiaoshi follows the motion with his eyes.

“You’ll get sick,” he says, letting Lu Guang hide. “Let’s go back.”

△

Lu Guang takes a hot shower. Cheng Xiaoshi makes him tea and brings him a blanket when he comes out. They sit in the sunroom. It’s still raining, though softer now. Lu Guang drinks the tea. Cheng Xiaoshi lets him be silent for a little while. Long enough for him to come back to himself, and then he asks, “What happened?”

“I wanted to go on a walk,” Lu Guang tells him.

“...Okay.” Cheng Xiaoshi waits. Lu Guang does not elaborate. “Without an umbrella, or a jacket, and somewhere along the way you decided to just… lay there?” A nod. Nothing else. “Lu Guang, do you think I’m stupid?” This is said with a gentleness that doesn’t quite suit the words. Cheng Xiaoshi knows how Lu Guang gets. How he closes off and refuses to open up. He’s always been like that. Most times he does better on his own. Most times Cheng Xiaoshi is afraid of overstepping or making Lu Guang uncomfortable. Right now… This feels different. Whatever this is isn’t something Lu Guang is going to work through by himself after a day alone. Cheng Xiaoshi can’t ignore that. He can’t pretend everything is okay, and he knows that whatever he does won’t be enough to cheer Lu Guang up again.

“No.” Said like an exhale. Lu Guang won’t look at him.

“I know you,” Cheng Xiaoshi says. “I can tell when you’re not okay.”

Lu Guang is quiet for a long time. He holds his mug in both hands and lets out this shaky breath like the world is ending. “On September thirteenth, just after midnight,” he starts, “you will be shot, and you will die.” He’s tired and solemn and entirely sober. A chill makes the hairs on Cheng Xiaoshi’s arms stand on end.

“You’re serious,” he says. Slowly, Lu Guang nods. He’s never been the type to play pranks. Cheng Xiaoshi trusts him with all he has. He believes him, or at least, believes that he believes that Cheng Xiaoshi will die. “Did someone send threats?”

“No,” Lu Guang says. He closes his eyes, hands tightening on his mug. “I watched it happen.”

It scares him. Cheng Xiaoshi swallows around a dry throat. Twists his sweaty fingers in his pants. “You dreamed it?”

“I lived it,” Lu Guang tells him. He’s desperate like Cheng Xiaoshi has never seen him. “I lived it, and I went back, and I failed you every time.”

“You…” Lu Guang’s powers don’t work like that. He can see into photos, he can’t go into them, but… But Cheng Xiaoshi believes him, and maybe that’s the scary part. “But how? How would you…?”

Lu Guang’s head hangs. He stares into the tea, still gripping it so tightly, knuckles white. “The first time you died,” he says, “your power transferred to me.”

Cheng Xiaoshi considers this. He doesn’t know much about how their powers work. He can’t explain his abilities, so he guesses he can’t rule out the possibility of them being transferable. It’s just… crazy. “Can you prove it?”

Lu Guang shakes his head. “I’m diving right now.”

Cheng Xiaoshi lets out a shaky breath. “How many times?”

Quiet. Lu Guang raises his head. His eyes are red, hair still damp from the shower. He’s exhausted in a way that sits bone deep. He’s… grieving. “You believe me?”

You can’t fake an expression like that. Lu Guang has either completely lost his mind or all of this is real. “You don’t play pranks,” Cheng Xiaoshi says. “You’re a liar, sure, but I don’t think you would lie about something like this. How many times, Lu Guang?”

“Five.” His voice cracks on the word.

Cheng Xiaoshi exhales and leans all the way back, staring at the sky. Still cloudy. The rain still sprinkles down, beading on the glass. “The thirteenth,” he breathes, “just after midnight.” Lu Guang is silent. Cheng Xiaoshi doesn’t look at him. He doesn’t scream or cry. Doesn’t do whatever one might, learning that they’re destined to die. “You broke the rules for me. You’re breaking them right now.”

“I couldn’t—”

“No,” Cheng Xiaoshi says. “You’re crazy, Lu Guang. Do you realize how insane this is?”

Lu Guang hesitates. His knuckles are white. His throat bobs as he swallows. “Are you angry?”

“Angry?” Cheng Xiaoshi laughs, tries to. Is he angry? “No, it’s pretty hard to be angry at someone for trying to save you, just… God. You’re such a hypocrite, do you realize that? How many times have you drilled the rules into my head?”

“It’s different,” Lu Guang whispers.

Cheng Xiaoshi shakes his head and digs his nails into his thighs. “I’m not worth more than anyone else.”

“Cheng Xiaoshi—”

“I don’t want to die,” Cheng Xiaoshi interrupts him. “I need to know. What happens if I survive, Lu Guang? What happens to the universe?”

“Nothing,” Lu Guang says, shaking his head. “You live, that’s it.”

“How do you know?”

I don’t. He can see it on Lu Guang’s face, though he doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t know what will happen. Cheng Xiaoshi has already died five times. Maybe it isn’t even possible.

Cheng Xiaoshi exhales shakily, trying to keep the tremor out of his voice. “Fine,” he says. “Okay, fine. We’ll come up with a plan. Maybe… since I know now, this will be the timeline where I survive. I’ll know what to do; it’ll work.” He nods to himself, trying to sound confident. He isn’t. The way Lu Guang looks at him doesn’t help. “I just need you to promise me,” he breathes, “that this isn’t a trade off. I’m not damning you or anyone else.”

“You aren’t,” Lu Guang tells him. “I promise you aren’t.”

Does he know that? Can Cheng Xiaoshi really trust him on that? He looks at Lu Guang, really looks at him, and he thinks, this isn’t possible at all, is it?

“Okay,” he says, nodding, a lump in his throat. “Okay, I believe you.”

“We’ll come up with a plan,” Lu Guang offers, and Cheng Xiaoshi nods again.

“We will,” he agrees. “This time it’ll work.”

△

He doesn’t sleep much that night. He doesn’t know that many people would, faced with the knowledge that they’re meant to die in a matter of days. That they’ve died already. That their best friend in the whole world, when faced with that fact, would go back over and over and try their best to undo it.

Maybe that’s the part that he’s stuck on. Cheng Xiaoshi has long since accepted the fact that nobody is guaranteed a tomorrow. But that Lu Guang would go back for him—Lu Guang, such a stickler for the rules—it… He doesn’t know. Grief does things to people. Lu Guang is grieving him.

“Lu Guang?”

A short inhale. Lu Guang isn’t asleep either. He never falls asleep first. “Yes?” he asks.

He shouldn’t ask. It isn’t right. It isn’t fair. “I’m not going to die this time.”

Lu Guang is silent. Cheng Xiaoshi tries very hard to sleep. A minute passes, two.

“Cheng Xiaoshi?” Lu Guang calls, soft.

“Yes?” Cheng Xiaoshi whispers back.

“Tomorrow,” he says, “let’s go to the beach.”

△

The weather isn’t right to go to the beach. It’s cold, windy. The sand is still wet and packed down from the rain. The water is frigid. There isn’t a single person here but them. Cheng Xiaoshi crosses his arms to hide his hands from the cold as they walk along the coast. Lu Guang is silent. He’s wearing a jacket this time. In another life, maybe this could have been romantic. Cheng Xiaoshi has learned not to hope for things like that.

“Why the beach?” he asks, curious. Lu Guang has never expressed interest in the beach before. He’s more of a forests and mountains kind of guy. He likes the quiet. The beach is always too loud.

Lu Guang glances at him. They’re walking slow, painfully slow. Their shoulders bump. He’s a little shorter. Cheng Xiaoshi thinks about that. Cheng Xiaoshi is always thinking about that.

Lu Guang hesitates. Cheng Xiaoshi nudges him until he takes a breath. “In another timeline,” he says, “you mentioned that you wanted to go.”

“I…” Cheng Xiaoshi looks at the sand. “Oh.” They walk a little longer.

“I’m sorry,” Lu Guang says.

“For?”

“For putting this on you.”

A gust blows strands of hair from Cheng Xiaoshi’s ponytail. Waves crash. The air is damp and salty, and Cheng Xiaoshi is not the one who is grieving.

“No,” he says. Drags his feet in the sand. “I like this better than when you keep things from me.”

“No one should have to know that they’re going to— That they’ve…”

“Sure. And no one should have to watch it happen over and over. We’re in this together. Besides, we’ll save me. Then neither of us will have to worry about this.” Lu Guang is quiet at that. Cheng Xiaoshi feels heavy, heavy, heavy. He exhales, sticks his tongue in his cheek. “Lu Guang?”

Again, their shoulders bump. Cheng Xiaoshi can’t feel warmth through their clothes. “Would you promise me something?” Their eyes meet. Lu Guang inclines his head. Cheng Xiaoshi stops walking and turns to face him fully. Another breath. He swallows around the lump in his throat. “If I die this time, don’t go back again.”

The wind makes him shiver. Lu Guang just stares.

“I know,” Cheng Xiaoshi says, and tries his best to smile. “I don’t want to die, obviously I don’t want to die, but… If it doesn’t work after six times, it’s not meant to be, is it? And I don’t…” He inhales, and it catches. He clears his throat. “I don’t want it, if it does something to you in the process.”

“Cheng Xiaoshi…”

“Lu Guang,” Cheng Xiaoshi says. His eyes water, his lip trembles, and he is so, so small in comparison to this. He’s not worth messing up the world for. He curses and wipes his eyes on his sleeve. “You’ll grieve, but one day you’ll get over it. You and Qiao Ling-jie, you’ll—”

“You’re still alive, Cheng Xiaoshi,” Lu Guang cuts him off. His desperation masks itself as anger. There are tears in his eyes too. “You’re right here.”

“That’s the second time I’ve seen you cry,” Cheng Xiaoshi whispers, only for himself to hear. His fingers twitch. He reaches out, unsure, careful, and pulls Lu Guang to him. “I know,” he whispers. He’s only half hopeful in his own salvation. Lu Guang smells like tea tree and laundry detergent, and if Cheng Xiaoshi is going to die, he might as well let himself have this first.

“I know,” he says again, and Lu Guang’s fingers tangle in his jacket. “I’m sorry, but I mean it. You can’t go back again. Promise me.” Lu Guang hides his face in his shoulder. He shakes, and Cheng Xiaoshi holds him tight. “Please, Lu Guang.” His voice breaks. He’s afraid he’ll cry too.

“I can’t,” Lu Guang tells him. “I can’t promise that. I’d go back a hundred times before I’d let you die.” There’s a sadness there that Cheng Xiaoshi is deeply familiar with. A childlike refusal to let go he’s clung to all his life. He’s reminded then that Lu Guang is young too. That no one can be graceful in accepting loss.

He doesn’t know the words he could say to change Lu Guang’s mind.

“Okay,” he says, cheek against Lu Guang’s hair. “Okay. We’ll just have to end the cycle here, then. I’ll just live, that way you never have to go back.” As if it’s that easy. It isn’t. Cheng Xiaoshi knows that, knows he will die, but he doesn’t want this version of himself to end here. He wants to remember this day at the beach and everything that comes after. He needs to. Maybe that’s enough. That has to be enough.

△

They watch the stars from the porch of the tiny, rundown cabin they rent for this. It cost more than it’s worth, but it doesn’t matter.

The sky is so much darker out here. It’s half covered by clouds, but the clear patches shine with hundreds of tiny stars. Cheng Xiaoshi sits with a blanket around his shoulders, Lu Guang has one over his lap. The wind has calmed. They can still hear the waves from here.

Cheng Xiaoshi breathes in the cool night air and he says, “Lu Guang?” A soft hum in response. Lu Guang watches the sky. “The other timelines… would you tell me about them?”

Lu Guang sighs and turns his head to look at him. Moonlight reflects off his eyes before he closes them. “What do you want to know?”

“All of it,” Cheng Xiaoshi breathes. “Everything you can tell me.” Maybe it’s bad of him to ask Lu Guang to remember, but those memories are his too, aren’t they? They were, they should be, they could have been. It’s strange, imagining versions of himself that Lu Guang knows but he himself doesn’t.

Lu Guang smooths his hands over his blanket and turns his gaze back to the stars. “The first timeline was pretty much normal, until the end,” he starts. “We didn’t have any important clients, just passport photos and film to develop. We had dinner with Qiao Ling-jie one day. You played games on another… I got groceries and you made noodles. I don’t remember much, I—”

“When I died,” Cheng Xiaoshi interrupts, “what… what happened then?” He shouldn’t ask, but this is the part that scares him the most, the part that he needs to know the most about. Lu Guang told him the details—how it happens, when it happens, where it happens—but nothing of this. Nothing of what it felt like.

Lu Guang’s throat bobs. His gaze stays where it is, toward the sky. “You died painfully in every timeline, Cheng Xiaoshi,” he says. It comes out shaky. So rarely has Cheng Xiaoshi heard Lu Guang’s voice shake. So rarely has he seen Lu Guang cry. He wonders about the other timelines, whether Lu Guang was shaky in those too, whether he cried. “The first time, you didn’t say much. You just told me you were sorry over and over.” He sniffs, fists his hands in the blanket. It’s strange, the guilt Cheng Xiaoshi feels for making Lu Guang grieve. It isn’t even this version of him that died. Whatever happened feels disconnected to him, and yet.

Cheng Xiaoshi’s throat feels tight. He wets his lips. “And the second timeline?”

Lu Guang clears his throat. “The second timeline, I went back to the morning of the twelfth. I was still… You thought I had a nightmare. You tried to comfort me. You kept trying all day. I was afraid of changing too much, so we still opened the studio and worked. It—”

“You changed things this time,” Cheng Xiaoshi interrupts again. “You changed a lot of things. Why?”

“It’s…” Lu Guang finally looks back at him. A cool breeze ruffles his hair. He brushes it out of his eyes. “It’s different. This is the present for me now. I have no intention of going back, so the butterfly effect doesn’t matter.” He says this without a trace of doubt or regret. Cheng Xiaoshi studies him, this version of his best friend. He’s changed so much, and this version of Cheng Xiaoshi never got to see it happen.

“You’ve completely stopped caring about the rules,” he notes, and it scares him, what Lu Guang has become. The lengths he’s gone to. The things he would do, has done, all for Cheng Xiaoshi’s sake. “Lu Guang…”

“The second time you died, the last thing you asked of me was to give Qiao Ling-jie the rent you set aside on your desk,” Lu Guang says. “I did. I gave it to her and she cried harder than I’ve seen anyone cry in my life. I went back that night. Cheng Xiaoshi… I know that this makes me a terrible, selfish person, but I’ve long since decided that the world isn’t worth living in without you in it.”

It’s funny that a reminder would come along like this. This version of Cheng Xiaoshi hasn’t thought about rent yet. He breathes out. Chews on his lip nearly hard enough to bleed. “So I’ll live this time,” he says. “I’ll live this time, so I need you to promise me you won’t go back again.”

“Cheng Xiaoshi.”

“I know, Lu Guang, but if you can’t stand me dying, I can’t stand the thought of you having to watch it happen over and over again.” He is firm in this. He has to be. He let it go before, but now it’s dark and quiet and he is meant to die in a matter of days. He can’t stop thinking about Lu Guang in the rain. He doesn’t want Lu Guang’s perpetuated grief. He doesn’t want there to be a hundred versions of himself that he’ll never know that Lu Guang will watch die. If he doesn’t live in this timeline, he doesn’t think he will in any other. It isn’t worth it, for Lu Guang to be stuck in the past, living this again and again. It isn’t fair. “Promise me.”

Lu Guang looks at him so tiredly. “I can’t.”

Cheng Xiaoshi swallows, takes a breath. “I don’t want to live if it means you have to grieve for me a hundred times. That’s… that’s my choice, okay? I don’t want you to have to carry something like that with you for the rest of your life.”

They’re both silent for a long, stretching moment. Lu Guang looks like this hurts him. His fingers tighten in the blanket, and then he lets go. Smooths it back out. He leaves behind wrinkles. “Okay,” he says. Again, “Okay. This will be the last timeline.”

Cheng Xiaoshi isn’t sure if what he feels is relief or fear. “Promise me,” he says.

“I promise,” Lu Guang tells him.

He is a known liar. Cheng Xiaoshi can do nothing but trust him on this. He trusts Lu Guang with his life. He’ll have to trust him to let it go too, if it comes to it. He breathes out. “The third timeline,” he prompts, returning to their earlier conversation.

“The third timeline,” Lu Guang echoes. A cool breeze blows. The stars continue to blink at them. “It’s cold, Cheng Xiaoshi. Can we go inside?”

“Yeah,” Cheng Xiaoshi breathes. He wraps his blanket tighter around his shoulders and stands. “Yeah, we can.”

△

The next morning is spent concocting a plan. Lu Guang shoots down most of what Cheng Xiaoshi suggests for one reason or another. Some things he already tried, but others just won’t work.

He asks about diving into a photo at the exact right moment so the shot passes through empty air, but the timing would have to be too exact. Lu Guang doesn’t know the precise number of seconds between the clock hitting midnight and him getting shot.

Calling the police in advance doesn’t work, putting Cheng Xiaoshi in other rooms doesn’t work, confronting the shooter directly doesn’t work. He dies too fast for an ambulance to save him. Lu Guang says the variables always adjust to make sure he dies. They’re going directly against fate. Cheng Xiaoshi chews on the insides of his cheeks so much he leaves sores on both sides.

Eventually, they come up with something. Cheng Xiaoshi doesn’t know if it’ll work. He doesn’t know if any solution they can create could work. He supposes they’ll find out about this one soon. For now, they’re here for another day and night, and Cheng Xiaoshi wants these memories to be good ones, regardless of whether they’re his last or not.

△

“The fourth timeline,” Lu Guang says as Cheng Xiaoshi pats down the base of his sand castle. It’s just the right texture for this; still a bit damp from the rain, but no longer packed down. “We played basketball. I didn’t open the studio when you went out and ran some errands. I think I scared you when you came home.”

Cheng Xiaoshi laughs a little, digging out a moat. The sand clings to his fingers and his bare knees. Lu Guang sits on a picnic blanket beside him, watching but not helping. “You didn’t think to text me or something? Of course I’d be scared if you weren’t there.”

“I was just upstairs,” Lu Guang offers.

Cheng Xiaoshi glances at him, squinting with the sun in his eyes. It’s warmer today. Still a bit cool, but not enough to be a bother. “You probably didn’t even have the lights on.”

Lu Guang blinks. “I didn’t need them.”

Cheng Xiaoshi exhales through his nose, turning back to his castle. “Alright,” he says. “So you didn’t open, and it scared me. And then we played basketball?”

“Yes,” Lu Guang says. “We went to the court at the park and played for a couple of hours. You won.”

Cheng Xiaoshi smiles to himself. “I always win.”

“You do.”

Quiet, between them. Cheng Xiaoshi supposes this story is meant to make him sad. He dies later, after all. That version of him didn’t get to keep any of those memories. This version of him will never truly have them. Lu Guang can’t give him every detail. He can’t tell Cheng Xiaoshi what he felt, only what Lu Guang felt. These memories, though his, though supposed to be his, never really will be. “And then what?” he prompts gently.

“You laid on the ground. I told you to get up because it was dirty.”

“I didn’t,” Cheng Xiaoshi says. “I wouldn’t.”

“You wouldn’t,” Lu Guang agrees. “You told me to lay down with you.”

Cheng Xiaoshi gathers more sand to build himself walls. Bold of me, he thinks. But he’s impulsive, and he’s in love, and those two things never make for a particularly good combo. “Well, did you?”

“No,” Lu Guang tells him. Out of the corner of Cheng Xiaoshi’s eye, he shakes his head. “I sat. You seemed satisfied.”

Cheng Xiaoshi is a simple person. “I probably was.” His walls are too thin; they crumble into a heap. He scoops the sand up and tries again.

“You told me it was nice,” Lu Guang says. “You asked if we could go again sometime, and I promised.”

“Did we?”

Lu Guang hesitates. “Not in that timeline.”

“In the next one?”

“Yes.” A kept promise. Cheng Xiaoshi doesn’t make eye contact. “I laid with you when you asked the second time too.”

Too much. Lu Guang humors him plenty already. Cheng Xiaoshi can’t imagine what this other version of himself would have thought of that. It would be hard not to grow soft on someone who’s about to die. Cheng Xiaoshi wonders if that version of himself died deluded, died with hope. “Lu Guang…”

“Cheng Xiaoshi,” Lu Guang says back. He takes a breath before he says anything else. Cheng Xiaoshi’s walls crumble again. “I know some things that… feel unfair for me to know right now.”

Cheng Xiaoshi sucks in a breath. Smiles somewhat bitterly to himself. “Did I tell you willingly?” he asks.

“Yes, but… You were dying, you…”

He chews on his cheeks, worsens the sores already there. “It’s okay, then. I must’ve wanted you to know.”

The blanket rustles as Lu Guang shifts on it. His hand lands on Cheng Xiaoshi’s shoulder, prompts him to turn and look. His eyes are sad and tired and too many things. He knows too many things. Cheng Xiaoshi feels the tiniest bit sick.

“This version of you,” Lu Guang says. “Would this version of you want me to know?”

Maybe they’re talking about two different things. Maybe not. Cheng Xiaoshi doesn’t have many secrets that Lu Guang doesn’t already know. That he didn’t already know long before all of this. “Well… Not like this, preferably, but it could be worse. If you really hated it you could’ve just left me to die.”

“Cheng Xiaoshi.” His voice is so firm yet so gentle. A contradiction. His eyes hold a world of care in them, but Cheng Xiaoshi already knows that. He’s felt it so indescribably deeply these past couple of days. Maybe his last self wouldn’t have been wrong to die with hope.

“I know,” he laughs, trying to wipe the grit off his palms onto his pants. “Bad joke, huh? Maybe in a couple of years it’ll be funny.”

“I’m in love with you.”

Cheng Xiaoshi opens his mouth. “Oh,” is all that comes out. Maybe it should be surprising. It would’ve been, a week ago. But this version of Lu Guang has watched him die and come back for him. This version of Lu Guang has always been a little bit different. Softer to him, sadder to him. “Are you sure?” he asks. It’s a terrible thing to ask someone, Cheng Xiaoshi knows. It’s a terrible thing to doubt. “You watched me die over and over; how do you know it isn’t just grief?”

“I…”

“Sorry,” Cheng Xiaoshi says, offering a half smile. He drops his gaze to the sand covering his shorts. Maybe it was a mistake to wipe his hands on them. “It feels bad to be asked something like that, but… I might die, you know? What if you’re just…” He doesn’t finish that thought. Not with the way Lu Guang looks at him.

“You really think that,” Lu Guang says.

“I don’t really know what to think,” Cheng Xiaoshi admits. “But you’re a lot different now, and… it adds up, doesn’t it?”

Lu Guang frowns. The sun gives him a halo. Cheng Xiaoshi wants. He wants so much, but they have really terrible timing.

“I’ve loved you a lot longer than this,” Lu Guang tells him. He holds eye contact, earnest, unwavering. Cheng Xiaoshi is the one that breaks it. “I realize I’m not the best at showing it, but I have.”

“But would you ever have acted on it if I wasn’t about to die?”

“Yes,” Lu Guang says. Just like that. Simple. “If I had known it could’ve gone somewhere, yes, I would have,”

Again, all Cheng Xiaoshi can come up with is, “Oh.”

“You wanted to go to the beach,” Lu Guang tells him. “I think it was supposed to be our first date, but we didn’t make it last time. That’s why I brought you here. I wanted…”

Promises. Lu Guang carries each one over for the next timeline. Carries them like burdens on his back. He must have been so terribly lonely. Cheng Xiaoshi abandons his castle entirely and crawls forward so he can wrap his arms around Lu Guang’s shoulders. Impulsive. In love. He gets sand all over the blanket Lu Guang has been so careful to keep clean.

“What is this?” Lu Guang asks into his neck. His hands hover, inches from touching. The sand on Cheng Xiaoshi’s palms sticks to his shirt.

“You needed it,” Cheng Xiaoshi murmurs. “I don’t think you get hugged enough.”

“Oh,” Lu Guang says quietly.

“Oh,” Cheng Xiaoshi echoes. He presses his cheek to Lu Guang’s hair. He smells like sunscreen and the last remnants of a faded summer. He whispers, so softly the wind could blow it away, “You’re everything to me.”

“You are too,” Lu Guang says, fingers tangling in his shirt. His voice shakes. “You are too.”

△

They spend another night watching the stars. It’s a bit warmer this time. Cheng Xiaoshi still has a blanket but he doesn’t need it. Lu Guang sits close enough for him to feel his body heat anyway. Their hands, joined, rest on Lu Guang’s thigh. Other than that, they haven’t changed much. They’re still the same people. Cheng Xiaoshi is glad. It’s something that scared him, the thought of them changing.

He wonders if Lu Guang is already accustomed to this. It’s weird, being the second Cheng Xiaoshi to hold his hand. To not know this part of Lu Guang when Lu Guang knows this part of him.

It shouldn’t matter. It’s just holding hands. Cheng Xiaoshi has held hands before, it’s just that this… Is different. Is something. Is a first for him but a second for Lu Guang. He wonders what the first must’ve looked like for Lu Guang. He guesses he’ll never know.

“You’re thinking about something,” Lu Guang observes.

“There’s a lot to think about.” Cheng Xiaoshi squeezes his hand. Lu Guang squeezes back. His fingers are cool. Cold, even. They always are. Cheng Xiaoshi can’t think of a time they touched where Lu Guang’s hands had been warm.

“The plan will work,” Lu Guang says. Convincing himself, convincing both of them.

“It will,” Cheng Xiaoshi agrees. He looks at their joined hands. Lu Guang is paler. It’s hard to tell in the dark. His hand is a bit smaller too.

Can I lean on you? he wonders. He doesn’t know why. He never would have thought about it before. Never would have felt the need to ask. Lu Guang isn’t particularly tactile, but Cheng Xiaoshi isn’t usually afraid of being pushed away. Right now, he’s terrified of it. He’s not sure how far he can stretch this.

He stays as he is for a while. Runs his thumb along Lu Guang’s index finger. Imagines himself pulling their hands to his mouth and kissing Lu Guang’s knuckles. And then he thinks of a timeline he never lived, one where they played basketball and laid together on cold, wet concrete. Careful, he rests his head on Lu Guang’s shoulder. He isn’t pushed off like he might have been a week ago. Lu Guang only squeezes his hand again. Given something small like this, Cheng Xiaoshi becomes terrified of losing it.

△

They head home on the eleventh and get back around midday. Cheng Xiaoshi cleans the bathroom and does his laundry. He tidies his half of the room and does the dishes from lunch. Lu Guang watches him do all of this and does not comment on the fact that Cheng Xiaoshi is preparing to die.

He almost writes a will. He sits at his desk with a pen and a blank page, and then he realizes he doesn’t have a reason to write one. He has no one in his life to leave things to but Lu Guang and Qiao Ling.

Before dinner, he goes to the store for groceries and the bank to get cash for rent. Qiao Ling’s parents prefer it. They’re old fashioned like that. He leaves it under his laptop on his desk. Lu Guang doesn’t comment on this either.

For dinner, he makes noodles. His famous—albeit stolen—recipe, bowl of the male dormitory. He eats with Lu Guang in the sunroom, awash in gold as the sun goes down. Tomorrow will be the twelfth, and after that, the thirteenth. He has come to terms with this.

He may not die, but whatever happens won’t be particularly enjoyable regardless. The rest of the night is spent installing a security camera that looks over the studio—it’s a wonder they haven’t done this already. Cheng Xiaoshi mounts it, standing on a chair, while Lu Guang directs him. When it’s done, they test it a dozen times in a dozen different ways to make sure it works.

After that, Cheng Xiaoshi washes up. He showers and changes into his pajamas, brushes his teeth. When he comes back to the room, he lays in bed and waits for Lu Guang. He can hear the water running through the walls, and he can’t sleep. He counts the bars on the bottom of Lu Guang’s bunk. Closes his eyes, deepens his breathing.

The door clicks softly closed minutes later. Cheng Xiaoshi opens his eyes and watches Lu Guang come in. He’s dressed in an old university t-shirt and black shorts, barefooted and fluffy haired and so many things. He turns the lamp off. Cheng Xiaoshi still focuses on his silhouette, which seems to hesitate in the dark. Cheng Xiaoshi waits for him to climb up to his bunk, but he doesn’t. Instead, he takes a step closer and hesitates again.

“Cheng Xiaoshi,” he says, a bit tentative. “Scoot.”

Slowly, Cheng Xiaoshi scoots. He lifts his blanket. Lu Guang slips under it.

They do this sometimes. Kind of. Not really. Sometimes when Cheng Xiaoshi has a nightmare, he’ll ask Lu Guang to come lay with him. Sometimes they’ll fall back asleep. Sometimes not. But Lu Guang never just… does this. Unprompted, without any actual excuse.

He’s warm. The studio is cold; Cheng Xiaoshi is reluctant to turn the heat on so early in the season. The contrast could be comfortable.

“Is this a thing?” Cheng Xiaoshi asks. “Are we supposed to talk, or are we really just sleeping?”

Lu Guang lets out a puff of air, a bit like a laugh. He shifts under the blanket, and the mattress shifts with him. They’re shoulder to shoulder in Cheng Xiaoshi’s too small bed. “Do you want to talk?”

Will this be one of the last times I’ll get to talk to you? he wonders. The possibility still doesn’t feel real. Still feels far from him. What even happens when he dies? It’s a question he doesn’t want answered quite yet. “I don’t know,” he says, turning his head to look at the shadow beside him. Lu Guang turns too. Neither can see, but they look at each other in the dark.

“We can,” Lu Guang tells him. “We don’t have to.”

“Well, see, I’ve kind of run out of things to say.”

“Never thought I’d see the day.” It’s more hushed than teasing. Lu Guang still turned to him. Their shoulders still brushing. Cheng Xiaoshi rolls onto his side, one arm under his head, the other inching along the sheets before pausing. He second guesses himself, afraid of boundaries and rejection and some hateful version of Lu Guang that has never been real. And then he sees that image of himself again, laying on cold, wet concrete with a smile on his face. Lu Guang beside him.

Careful, he feels for Lu Guang’s shoulder, brushes his neck, the edge of his jaw before finally cupping his cheek. His stomach flips. A lump forms in his throat. “I’m very in love with you,” he says. “Never forget that.”

Lu Guang’s hand folds over his own, holding him there. Cold fingers. Always cold fingers. A slightly hitched breath. “I don’t think I could if I tried.”

“Good,” Cheng Xiaoshi says. “You’re not allowed to.” He traces Lu Guang’s cheekbone with his thumb, adjusts a little as Lu Guang rolls to face him.

“Are you scared?” he whispers.

“Yeah,” Cheng Xiaoshi whispers back. “Terrified. Tell me you love me too.”

“I love you,” Lu Guang says, sure and simple.

Cheng Xiaoshi exhales. He presses closer until he can hide his face against Lu Guang’s throat. He feels him swallow, the beat of his heart. He wraps his arm around Lu Guang’s waist, fingers hooking in his shirt. “Goodnight,” he says, and wonders if either of them will be able to sleep.

Slowly, Lu Guang folds an arm around his shoulders. He’s tentative, ginger with this, but he doesn’t attempt to extricate himself. “Goodnight,” he echoes, relaxing. Cheng Xiaoshi can feel the puff of his breath.

△

On the twelfth, Cheng Xiaoshi pays rent early for the first time in his life. Qiao Ling looks at him a bit like he’s crazy, but she takes it, and then he takes her out for boba. They talk about everything and nothing. Her sweater is new. She smells like strawberry perfume, and she’s his favorite person in the world. He doesn’t tell her that, just in case she might hit him for it. He regrets it a little bit later.

Lunch is spent with Dong Yi and Xu Shanshan. They get sandwiches. They go shopping to get Dong Yi a new watch and then they part. Cheng Xiaoshi tells them he loves them. He says it casually, like a joke, but he means it, and it’s enough.

When he gets home, Lu Guang is checking the security camera again. His dark circles are like thumbprints.

“Big day,” Cheng Xiaoshi offers, and Lu Guang only nods.

△

Ten minutes to midnight, Cheng Xiaoshi has more energy than he knows what to do with. He can’t sit without his knee bouncing, he can’t stand without pacing. He’s sick to his stomach. He doesn’t want to die, but he wants this to be over with.

Lu Guang, by contrast, is entirely still. His phone, connected to the security camera, sits in his lap. “Your timing,” he starts.

“I know,” Cheng Xiaoshi stops him. Exhales. Stands, paces. “I know. I’ve got this. I’m not dying today— Tomorrow. I’m. I’ll be just fine.” He nods firmly. Lu Guang holds his gaze. He looks so exhausted. Resigned. Ready to watch Cheng Xiaoshi die again. “Trust me. Lu Guang, trust me.”

“I do.”

“You don’t, though,” Cheng Xiaoshi says. His hands shake. He kneels at Lu Guang’s feet, reaching for both of his hands, squeezing them tight. “You can’t just redo this later, Lu Guang. This is the last timeline. This is our last shot. I need you to believe in me.”

“I do,” Lu Guang breathes. He’s seen Cheng Xiaoshi die five times. Grieved him five times. Is grieving him right now. It’s terrifying, seeing that. Watching someone— Watching someone ready to watch you die. Watching someone prepare themselves for that.

“You aren’t going to see me die again,” Cheng Xiaoshi says, pleads, begs him. He brings his forehead to their hands, squeezes tight.

“I won’t,” Lu Guang affirms, and Cheng Xiaoshi can hardly tell if he means it or not. It’ll have to be enough. He pushes Lu Guang’s sleeve up to read his watch. Six minutes.

“Let’s go.”

Lu Guang nods. Cheng Xiaoshi stands and slaps his own cheeks. Lu Guang leads him up the stairs.

“Police response time is eight minutes,” he says.

“Eight minutes,” Cheng Xiaoshi repeats.

“They always flee after they shoot, don’t— Don’t go back until—”

“I know,” Cheng Xiaoshi says. “They have to think they got me, I know.” He stops in their room, arms stretched to touch the doorframe. He allows himself one grounding breath, and turns. “Kiss for good luck?”

Lu Guang looks at him like he’s crazy.

“Oh, well,” he says, trying to smile, trying to shrug. “Thought I’d shoot my shot. Or, uh… Not get shot…? Anyway. Save it for later? Incentive?”

“Cheng Xiaoshi—”

“I am very in love with you,” Cheng Xiaoshi blurts, backing into the room, panic crawling up his throat. “When I survive this, which I absolutely will, I would like a kiss. Is that fair? I’ve been wanting to kiss you stupid for at least half a year but it’s never really felt appropriate, and the last couple of days you’ve been so sad, and I think I’d much rather kiss you when you’re happy, so when I survive— When… When this works, and we’re both happy, and—”

“Cheng Xiaoshi,” Lu Guang repeats, with emphasis, and he sounds a little bit hot, urgent like this.

“Yeah,” Cheng Xiaoshi says. He stumbles his way into the closet, hitting his head on the hangers. He turns his gaze to the phone in Lu Guang’s hand. “Yeah, I know. You can’t come with me, can you?”

“Not this time.”

“Alright.” A breath. “I love you,” Cheng Xiaoshi says again, pressing himself to the wall. He smiles. Lu Guang stares back. “Don’t forget that. Never forget that.”

“I won’t,” Lu Guang says, and Cheng Xiaoshi takes the deepest breath he’s probably ever taken in his life and lifts his hands. “I lo—” He brings them together a half second too soon. He doesn’t get to hear Lu Guang finish that sentence. Next time, he tells himself. There will be a next time.

He finds himself back on the first floor of the studio. He gives himself about three minutes or so. Lu Guang will be calling the police now, hopefully not too late. Too early would scare the shooter away.

He heads back into the sunroom, trying to act calm and natural. Three minutes, maybe two. Should he sit? Should he stand or find something to do? He doesn’t know what might make it obvious that he knows what’s going to happen. He’s probably being watched. He’s absolutely being watched. What if his timing is off?

He sits, and then he stands. Acts like he’s tidying up the table. Lu Guang’s book, his laptop. A pair of headphones, an empty cup that he takes to the sink. He refolds the blanket over the back of the couch.

Lu Guang comes down the stairs, hurried. Cheng Xiaoshi straightens up. How much longer do they have? A minute? Less? “When should I—”

A gunshot. The window shatters. Cheng Xiaoshi throws himself to the ground and, admittedly, he’s not fast enough. The plan falls apart. There’s blinding pain and the crack of his knee on the floor and the way Lu Guang screams for him. Really screams, raw in a way he’s never heard before. And then there’s the terrifying thought: I’m supposed to die from this.

He claps a hand over his side, immediately feeling the blood spill over his fingers. It hurts like nothing he’s ever experienced.

Instantly, Lu Guang is by his side, ripping off his button up and pressing it to the bleeding. His hand wraps around Lu Guang’s wrist, blood smearing, and it feels… familiar. Why is this familiar, why is this familiar? His vision blurs. He bleeds out on the rug, he sees himself bleed out on the rug. He sees himself cradled in Lu Guang’s lap, he sees their bloody hands putting pressure to the wound together. He feels it, he is it, he…

“Go,” he gasps. “Lu Guang, go. Don’t let them get away.”

“You’re—”

“Fine,” Cheng Xiaoshi says. “Holy— I think I’m fine.”

“You’re dying!” It rips its way from Lu Guang’s throat. A hundred images flash behind Cheng Xiaoshi’s eyes. His ears are ringing from the sound. He sees stars from the pain, but he pries Lu Guang’s hand away from his side, pulls up his shirt. The fabric sticks. It’s agony, but it’s—

“I’m not,” he says, though he really, really feels like he is. His tears blur his vision too much to see Lu Guang’s expression. “Go, Lu Guang. Please.”

A moment passes, and then he does. When he’s gone, Cheng Xiaoshi brings his hands together.

He comes back standing, but with none of the strength to stand. He falls into the wall, hands still slick with blood and slipping. He catches a shirt as he goes down, drags it with him as he collapses on the floor, back to the wall. It’s hard to breathe. It’s small and dark and cramped in here, and he balls up the shirt without care for ruining it and holds it to the wound. Just a graze, he tells himself. It’s not— The bullet isn’t in him. It may have ripped open a chunk of flesh when it got him, but it’s just that, flesh, not organs or bone or anything vital. He’ll survive this. With an ambulance already on the way, he’ll survive this.

His head falls back into the wall. His mouth is dry. He tries to catch his breath, but sitting up is making his head float. He can’t seem to get enough air. He’s afraid to move in case he’ll make it worse. He can survive five minutes of this. Just until the ambulance gets here. Five minutes. The walls are so close they could crush him, and he can hardly see more than shadows in the dark. One of his greatest fears is dying alone. In every other timeline, he had Lu Guang with him.

Lu Guang. Alone. Against someone with a gun. Why hadn’t he thought about that. Why hadn’t he— What if, to save Cheng Xiaoshi, Lu Guang has to die instead?

He shoves the closet door open and tries to stagger to his feet, still clutching his side. The world spins. He comes crashing right back down, ears ringing, vision dark around the edges. He can’t get back up, he can’t—

△

He wakes, briefly, in the ambulance. There are bright lights and voices and everything is just a little bit blurry. He doesn’t feel any pain. He tries to ask after Lu Guang, but the sound that comes out of him is intelligible to his own ears. Moments later, he’s out again.

The next time he wakes, he’s in a hospital bed. It smells sterile and sharp, and he feels absolutely lost. A bit fuzzy, too. He spots the IV in his arm and figures he’s drugged beyond comprehension.

“You—!” The first thing Qiao Ling does when she sees him awake is punch the bed. She probably wanted to punch him, but she has more common sense than that. Her hands both curl into fists and there’s this expression on his face. Teary eyed and absolutely furious. “I can’t believe you! Cheng Xiaoshi, what were you thinking?”

“I…” Cheng Xiaoshi frowns, squinting at her, watching her come in and out of focus.

“You almost died,” Qiao Ling tells him. “You—” Her chin wobbles, and then she wraps one of his hands in both of her own, squeezing tight enough that he can’t move it at all.

“Ow,” he says, though he doesn’t really feel anything. Qiao Ling lets up, but only a little. “...What time is it?”

“Six thirty, you asshole,” she says. “I’ve been up since one in the morning. You had to get surgery.”

“Oh.” Cheng Xiaoshi tries to move the blanket so he can see, but Qiao Ling stops him, and he’s still so weak, so he gives up. “Where’s Lu Guang?”

“In his own room,” Qiao Ling says. “He has a concussion, but he’s fine.”

“Oh,” Cheng Xiaoshi says, and the relief is overwhelming. He rolls his head to stare at the ceiling. His vision still blurs and his brain floats. He’s way too drugged to process this right now.

“He helped the police catch the guy,” Qiao Ling continues, “but… Cheng Xiaoshi, What even happened?”

“I don’t really know,” he admits. “But I survived it.” God. He survived it.

△

He sleeps some more. This time, Lu Guang is there when he wakes, he’s significantly less high, and in significantly more pain. There’s a bandage around Lu Guang’s head, squishing his hair down. Cheng Xiaoshi kind of smiles, kind of winces. “Hi,” he says.

“Hi,” Lu Guang replies, hushed. “Qiao Ling-jie went home to get some sleep. She’ll be back later.”

“What time is it?” Cheng Xiaoshi asks.

“Just past eleven,” Lu Guang answers.

“And the world didn’t explode?”

“The world didn’t explode.”

“Ah.” Cheng Xiaoshi closes his eyes. His side throbs. He still hasn’t seen it. He hopes the scar will come out cool. For now, he scoots a bit gingerly, making a space at his side. Lu Guang looks at him softly.

“I shouldn’t,” he says, but he lays down anyway. Their shoulders brush. Cheng Xiaoshi would hold him, but he doesn’t think he can without it hurting.

“You know this means it worked, right?” he asks. “You did it. You saved me.”

“You saved yourself,” Lu Guang whispers.

“The hospital staff saved me,” Cheng Xiaoshi corrects. “Team effort.”

It earns him the tiniest smile. Lu Guang is beautiful when he smiles. Cheng Xiaoshi turns a little to face him better, careful with his side, and reaches out to touch his hand. It pulls on the needle in his arm, but he ignores it. “I want to kiss you so bad,” he confesses. Nothing has ever been truer.

Lu Guang smiles a little more, like this is amusing. “You’re high on painkillers,” he says. “Maybe tomorrow.”

Cheng Xiaoshi pouts. “They wore off,” he protests.

“Not as much as you think they did.” Lu Guang touches his cheek. His eyes are rimmed in red, like he’d been crying. Dark shadows still painted beneath. And yet his gaze is so soft. “You haven’t even brushed your teeth.”

He’s right. Cheng Xiaoshi frowns and reaches for the hand on his face, squeezes it weakly. Lu Guang laces their fingers together. “Fine,” Cheng Xiaoshi says. His mouth tastes dry and sour. “Tomorrow.”

“There’s no rush, Cheng Xiaoshi,” Lu Guang whispers. “We have time.”

△

He’s discharged the next day after a long morning of tests and talking to the police. He comes home with antibiotics and painkillers, exhausted, in pain, and very happy to be alive. Lu Guang helps him inside, brings him to sit on the couch. He can walk by himself with some difficulty, but he pretends he can’t. He knows Lu Guang knows this, but he doesn’t say anything. Cheng Xiaoshi is glad to be home.

The rug in the sunroom is gone. He wonders what kind of mess he left. He hopes someone cleaned out the closet too.

“I am,” Cheng Xiaoshi starts, “exhausted.”

Lu Guang huffs. “You survived a murder attempt.”

“I survived a murder attempt,” Cheng Xiaoshi agrees. They haven’t spoken about it much, not while they’ve been in the hospital. “Lu Guang, we changed a death node. What happens now?”

Lu Guang’s expression sobers. “I don’t know,” he admits. “I didn’t think it was possible.”

“And yet,” Cheng Xiaoshi says.

“And yet,” Lu Guang echoes.

Cheng Xiaoshi drapes an arm along the back of the couch. “Do you think I need to worry?” he asks. “That this is just… borrowed time?”

“I…”

“I think I saw when we changed it,” Cheng Xiaoshi admits. “When I grabbed your wrist, I think I saw the other timelines. Myself dying. I don’t know if those were your memories, or—”

“You took it back,” Lu Guang interrupts.

“What?”

“When you lived. You took your power back from me. It’s like… It knew you weren’t going to die this time, so it went back to you.”

“How do you know?”

“I just… felt it leave me.”

“But you were diving.”

“I don’t think I am anymore.”

Silence. Cheng Xiaoshi looks at him for a long time. Studies him for a lie or a hidden truth. He can’t seem to find anything. Just those same gray eyes. The same shadows. “I believe you,” he says carefully. Lu Guang nods. “So you think… Everything is back to normal?”

“We changed this death node,” Lu Guang says. He hesitates. “One day, there will be another. Hopefully that one will be much farther out.”

“Hopefully,” Cheng Xiaoshi echoes. He knows this will haunt him for the rest of his life. He forces a smile. “Well, I’m alive now. I guess that’s all that matters, isn’t it?”

“I’m glad,” Lu Guang says. “Cheng Xiaoshi, I’m glad.”

“Yeah,” Cheng Xiaoshi breathes. “Me too.”

△

They lay in bed later. The two of them side by side, shoulder to shoulder. Cheng Xiaoshi is tired. Now that everything has calmed down, he’s just… relieved. It’s not a bad feeling. He turns to Lu Guang beside him, watches the slope of his cheek and his throat and the rising and falling of his chest.

“It’s the fourteenth,” he says. “We survived it.”

“We did,” Lu Guang agrees. His eyes are closed. Cheng Xiaoshi gets the urge to touch his eyelashes, curious, in an odd way, what they feel like. He holds off.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?”

Now, Lu Guang blinks. He turns his head to look at Cheng Xiaoshi, just a breath apart. “Really?” He isn’t impressed. The expression is familiar. Cheng Xiaoshi has missed it this past week. Has missed him.

He asks, suddenly very seriously, “Are you happy?”

“Am I…” Lu Guang pauses. Cheng Xiaoshi holds his gaze, needing to hear it. Needing to know if he means it or not. “Yes,” Lu Guang finally says, and it seems true. “Right now, I’m happy.”

Cheng Xiaoshi nods slowly. He finds himself looking at Lu Guang’s mouth. “Good,” he says, losing his train of thought. “That’s good.” It earns him a slight smile, the corners of Lu Guang’s lips curling up. His eyes are as soft as they’ve ever been. Cheng Xiaoshi wants to kiss him so bad.

“Hey,” he says. Lu Guang’s eyebrow quirks. He knows where Cheng Xiaoshi is looking. “Can I kiss you?”

Quiet. Lu Guang rolls over to look at him. Cheng Xiaoshi is held still by the weight of that gaze and the threat of pain in his side if he tries to move. “I wanted to wait,” Lu Guang starts, “until I was sure it would be the first one for both of us in any timeline.”

“Romantic,” Cheng Xiaoshi whispers, unable to keep himself from smiling. “I wouldn’t have guessed.”

Lu Guang shakes his head. “It just wouldn’t have been fair otherwise.”

“You’re sweet,” Cheng Xiaoshi tells him. “Are you sure yet?”

Lu Guang studies him. Exhales. “Yeah,” he says, kind of careful. He lifts a hand and cups the back of Cheng Xiaoshi’s neck. “I think so.”

“And?” Cheng Xiaoshi prompts.

Lu Guang shifts, halfway leans over him. “I love you,” he says. “I don’t think you got to hear me say it last time.”

Heat crawls up Cheng Xiaoshi’s neck. “You’re too confident all of a sudden. I don’t like it.”

Lu Guang shakes his head, eyes never leaving him. “I just know what it feels like to regret not telling someone something.”

“Ah.”

“Ah,” Lu Guang echoes, and kisses him.

Cheng Xiaoshi, for all the fact that this was his idea, forgets to kiss back. He stays still and unmoving, a bit afraid of scaring Lu Guang away. It’s featherlight pressure, just a brush of lips like Lu Guang is afraid of scaring Cheng Xiaoshi too. Up close, he smells like tea tree and mint from his toothpaste. Cheng Xiaoshi freezes up, and then, just as Lu Guang pulls back, he remembers.

“Wait, wait,” he says, grinning, tangling his fingers in the hair at Lu Guang’s nape. “Come back. I forgot to move, come back.”

“You forgot?” Lu Guang laughs, a little incredulous, but he goes as asked. This time, their kiss is a little off center. Cheng Xiaoshi smiles too much, so Lu Guang kisses his teeth.

“Sorry, wait—”

“You are—” Cheng Xiaoshi catches Lu Guang in a proper kiss this time. Still soft, centered a little better, a little open-mouthed. They fall into it. It’s gentle, and it’s good, and Lu Guang kisses kind of cautiously, kindly, and it suits him. His hands are soft too. He touches like this is important to him, like Cheng Xiaoshi is important to him, and it’s—

“I’m…?” Cheng Xiaoshi prompts when they come up for air. Lu Guang’s gaze flicks between his eyes. His mouth is red. Cheng Xiaoshi did that, knows what it feels like to do that.

“...Terrible at this,” Lu Guang finishes.

“Ter— Lu Guang!”

“Sorry,” Lu Guang says, and he looks happy. “I think you figured it out, though.”

“I did,” Cheng Xiaoshi agrees, still a little breathless. He tips his face up, tries to look kissable. Lu Guang leans down, and he waits, ready for it, wanting it. And then Lu Guang leans some of his weight into him, making him flinch, which in turn sends a stab of pain up his side and punches the air from his lungs. “Ow, ow, god—” He curses, and Lu Guang swiftly draws back.

“Did I hurt you?” he asks, nearly knocking his head on his bunk as he rushes to sit up and help.

“No,” Cheng Xiaoshi wheezes. “No, just touched my side a little. Don’t worry about it.”

“Sorry,” Lu Guang says.

“No, no, I did this to myself, it’s—” He laughs a little, but that only makes it hurt more. He almost wonders if he needs to check for a ripped stitch, but he doesn’t notice any blood when he pulls up his shirt to see his bandages.

“How do you feel?” Lu Guang asks, a bit worriedly.

Cheng Xiaoshi fixes his shirt and settles back down. The pain starts to ebb. He exhales, glances at Lu Guang, still sitting up beside him. Sheets pool in his lap. Cheng Xiaoshi messed up his hair. His lips are still red, and he’s worried, but he’s still… happy. Right now, for the first time in a while.

“Alive,” Cheng Xiaoshi answers. He closes his eyes, takes another breath. “I feel alive.”