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Time does not fade all wounds, Cheng Xiaoshi realizes.

He begins to consider the idea that time itself doesn’t improve much of anything. It’s a scary thought, one that teeters along challenging his entire morale; but when Summer slips into Autumn and the only thing that changes is the yellowing of leaves, he learns that he has to eventually confront it.

Eventually, keyword. For now, Cheng Xiaoshi is much more familiar with the idea of having skeletons in his closet. They’re locked away behind a door, sitting in dark depths he is too afraid to venture into; yet let a force shake the closet, and a skull may roll out of its cavern. And Cheng Xiaoshi would hastily pick up the skull and toss it behind the doors, let it situate itself inside misaligned; and if a new set of bones find themselves scattered across the floor, he will throw them where they belong and shut the closet once again.

Sometimes, Cheng Xiaoshi has dreams about the skeletons and the voids. But this time there are no bones; there is a lot of blood. It blooms like spider lilies across white clothes, white skin, white hair. It bleeds out of shaky palms, stains concrete and knives and couches and lips and clothes. It bursts forth from his innards to make room for a stony, silver bullet in his side. Blood plugs his ears and distorts much else that follows after being shot; he had very little memory of being taken away by an ambulance until Lu Guang’s shouting and Qiao Ling’s cries finally registered, alongside the nauseating, coppery stench of his blood and the blistering pain that boiled along his skin. 

Cheng Xiaoshi wakes up at random from his hazed remembrance of events. There is no violent awakening and crying like what he is used to from childhood; waking up from these nightmares is much more gradual and muddled, like the first few moments of consciousness after plunging into a body of water.

 A trauma response, nurses at the hospital suggested when he began to experience the first inklings of this sensation. But that’s such a clinical term to use. Trauma response works in the four walls of a hospital room, but it doesn’t feel like a fitting answer to why his body seizes from him bumping his hip on a table, or why he can never eye the sharp edge of any object for too long, or why an abrupt noise can wrangle the last of his breath out of him. Maybe response is the issue. He doesn’t want to respond, he doesn’t want to rehash any horrific memories. Maybe he simply wants to move on; he wants to cast a weighted blanket over the matter or indelicately wrap it in a thin layer of film.

But for now, he picks up the bones and locks them behind closet doors once again.

Qiao Ling is around a lot.

Not that it’s an issue to Cheng Xiaoshi; she’s always been around, landlady status notwithstanding— he’s just much more aware of her presence now. He’s used to Qiao Ling being preoccupied with her own matters and only stopping by the studio for work or the rare occasion she’s free. But lately she lingers. There are many times where sits inside and doesn’t speak, choosing to curl herself up in a seat and scroll on her phone, yet her echo is still heard all the same.

He  doesn’t question her more frequent visits because he actually finds solace in them. There’s something comforting in walking into the living room and finding her half dozed off in a seat, her head tilted towards the warm rays coming through the window. Furthermore, he learns to use her constant presence to his advantage by finding different ways to spend time with her. That usually translates into shopping and boba trips. 

The constant sweets and clothes are hits to Cheng Xiaoshi’s stomach and wallet, but when he gets a glimpse of the tiny, earnest light that shines in Qiao Ling’s eyes whenever she asks him whether this shade of vermillion or that shade of burgundy suits her better—

“Qiao Ling, what the hell does that matter? They’re all red!”

“No, they’re not! Men and your simplistic tastes.”

—It’s a hit he can handle.

Cheng Xiaoshi’s in the middle of calculating his worsening debt when he notices Qiao Ling’s hasty glances across the clothing store. When she’s not paying attention, he follows her eyes over to a thick, baby pink cardigan on display. It’s cute and seasonal, so Cheng Xiaoshi looks over to her and asks,

“Why don’t you get that cardigan? It’ll suit you.”

Qiao Ling flinches, like she hadn’t expected Cheng Xiaoshi’s sudden vigilance. She cautiously darts her eyes over the cardigan, before sharply looking away as she’d been burned.

“I don’t think it’d look good on me,” she says after a quiet moment of consideration. Her condemnation of clothes isn’t anything new, but to Cheng Xiaoshi, it feels different.  

“It’s a simple, pink cardigan,” Cheng Xiaoshi says. “The color’s pretty. I don’t see how it would look bad on you.”

To that, Qiao Ling’s refusal somehow becomes more vehement. “It wouldn’t suit me,” she replies, her voice heavy with discomfort as she fiercely avoids the cardigan with her eyes. Cheng Xiaoshi doesn’t have a second to respond to her agitation before she starts wandering around the store, pointedly avoiding the cardigan. He chooses not to question her behavior, but he doesn’t let the situation slip from his mind.

He continues to not question it even when they eventually arrive at the checkout and he spots a folded up article of clothing in the same shade of pink and of the same wooly material. Qiao Ling doesn’t say anything about it; she simply pulls out her card and pays for her own purchase.

Women are so fickle, Cheng Xiaoshi thinks to himself.

Later, much later, Cheng Xiaoshi sees Qiao Ling wear the cardigan one time in the studio. He doesn’t mention the initial exchange they had about the cardigan. He has a feeling that it’s better that way. 

When he never sees Qiao Ling wear the cardigan again, he doesn’t bring it up.

Cheng Xiaoshi has known Lu Guang long enough to know what the painted over look of guilt looks like on him.

It’s subtle, one you have to go out of your way to look for; Cheng Xiaoshi does during the silence and inactivity in the photo studio. But once spotted, he can easily recognize the demeanor of not knowing how to return to a normal. Something about Lu Guang feels lost.

Maybe he is the same too. They’ve spent the past month or so carefully treading through the studio in the wake of events, spending most of their time drifting aimlessly due to the studio being closed. It starts to hurt.

The cautious stitching around the gaping wound inflicted on their lives leaves Cheng Xiaoshi with too much time to think. He doesn’t want to think— but it jabs at his sanity, it makes him restless and leaves him in the constant state of needing to do something.

His nerves buzz like flies when sleep doesn’t come easy, thrumming away at his temperament and convincing him to climb out of bed in the middle of the night. When he can’t sleep, he continues to roam the halls of the studio, plagued like a phantom hovers over his shoulder. The phantom uses its ghastly fingers to coax him towards the kitchenette.

The room is dark; the whole studio is, with the exception of the few rays of moonlight creeping through the windows and the lonesome overhead kitchen light. Lu Guang sits under the the light, his eyes smothering some emotion and casting a thousand-yard stare across the room. Cheng Xiaoshi’s stomach turns at his empty, gray eyes. It rattles like bones in his memory, uncomfortably reminiscent of—

“Lu Guang?” Cheng Xiaoshi carefully calls for his attention. Lu Guang stirs from his haze, the lick of a blue flame in his eyes as he glances over to him in the hallway.

“Cheng Xiaoshi?” Lu Guang says his name, his voice quiet and weighted with something Cheng Xiaoshi still cannot distinguish. “You’re not asleep?”

Cheng Xiaoshi takes a moment to shake his head. “Can’t,” he says. “Thoughts,” he adds a beat later.

That seems to explain something to Lu Guang, whose eyes soften in what seems like a glint of empathy. Cheng Xiaoshi takes his silence as an opportunity to make his way over to him and pull out a chair beside him. The quiet between them is thick and familiar, but it calls for a thousand words. Words that need to be said. Words Cheng Xiaoshi doesn’t know how to say. He glances over to Lu Guang, whose eyes are already intent on him, his gaze an array of gray clouds. Cheng Xiaoshi stirs under his stare, and wonders how far sunlight lies behind it.

“I know we’ve been through… a lot, lately, but for some reason I feel like this sitting around is slowly making me go insane,” Cheng Xiaoshi says. “I don’t know how many more nights I can deal with just thinking.”

It’s a sudden admission, one he hadn’t considered making, but it feels appropriate at the moment. Something in Lu Guang’s eyes shift.

“It’s quiet,” Lu Guang says vaguely. “Maybe that’s just what we need.”

Cheng Xiaoshi can’t fully agree. Maybe he’s too accustomed to the turbulence of daily life to believe that artificial silence is needed to return to normal. 

He doesn’t argue his point.

“I’m bored,” Cheng Xiaoshi says instead, carefully resting his head on his shoulder. Lu Guang hums in return.

Cheng Xiaoshi’s eyes look over Lu Guang’s shoulder and drift over to the pill bottle next to his glass that his hand is wrapped around. Pain medication, Cheng Xiaoshi recognizes, and against his will, the phantom looming overhead flicks its fingers through memory film. It forces him to recall Lu Guang’s drugged out nature in the hospital from his heavy prescriptions. It had only been for a short period of time, with Lu Guang ultimately choosing sobriety over being on hard pain medication, but just seeing a bottle of regular acetaminophen on the table sours Cheng Xiaoshi’s tongue.

“Does it still hurt?” He asks Lu Guang. He doesn’t specify it, the look in Lu Guang’s eyes tells him that he doesn’t need to.

Lu Guang doesn’t answer his question, but Cheng Xiaoshi receives the message all the same. “Does yours?” Lu Guang asks in turn. His voice is tender, delicately tip-toeing around the subject.

For a moment, Cheng Xiaoshi senses the intimate nature of asking about each others wounds and scars in the dead of night. He similarly doesn’t answer Lu Guang’s question. The phantom thrums its fingers along his side, icy and unwelcoming.

“It’s strange,” Cheng Xiaoshi sighs. He again doesn’t specify it; there’s too many things for him to specify for him to put it into words. Lu Guang seems to understand regardless.

Lu Guang’s eyes linger on his hair for a second longer than Cheng Xiaoshi would ignore; he continues to not say anything. Silence befalls the studio again.

Cheng Xiaoshi knows that at some point he will head back upstairs and fight for sleep to overcome him, that he will wake up tomorrow and repeat the same routine. Over and over. 

He’s bored of it. It’s making him think too much. He needs something to do.

“Lu Guang.” He looks over at him, and Cheng Xiaoshi swallows thickly. “What do you think of reopening the studio soon?”

Lu Guang’s eyebrows marginally raise, color stricken across his eyes. For a second, Cheng Xiaoshi wonders it’ll become another open-ended proposition he’ll stay up at night contemplating until Lu Guang says, “I don’t think I’m comfortable with doing so right now.”

It’s a direct answer. An honest, direct, emotional answer, extremely rare in its kind and even rarer to hear from Lu Guang. 

“Alright,” Cheng Xiaoshi says. He leans onto Lu Guang’s shoulder once more.

It’s quiet again.

A few mornings later, Qiao Ling is over for breakfast when Cheng Xiaoshi brings up the topic of reopening the studio and how Lu Guang had refused. He fully expected the understanding, despondent look on her face from the news. Her words begin to make him ponder, however.

“He’s going through a lot,” Qiao Ling softly says. Her voice is wistful, heavy like it stands under the weight of knowing. Her tone catches Cheng Xiaoshi’s attention.

A moment later, Qiao Ling adds, “we all are.”

Her voice is indelicately laced with something Cheng Xiaoshi can’t begin to wonder about. Fighting against his curiosity, he respects her emotions and doesn’t press her further. 

Some nights, when Cheng Xiaoshi is able to keep his eyes shut long enough to fall asleep, he has dreams about abstract details his brain is forcing him to remember. 

Sometimes it's of the ringing in his skull from when his body hit the concrete ground after being shot. It muddled his thought process, delayed the realization that had a gashing bullet hole in his abdomen. 

Sometimes it's the thumping of his heart against his ribcage as he stares down the barrel of a gun, adrenaline coursing through his veins from his eager rescue of Lu Guang and being held at gunpoint. 

Sometimes it’s the wet sound of the fatal bullet puncturing through Li Tianxi’s chest, the splatter of blood across the concrete as she collapsed onto the ground. 

Sometimes it’s the chill of Li Tianchen’s fingers roaming on him, cold from the curdling blood on his hands— blood a child his age should had never been forced to spill.

Cheng Xiaoshi continues to wake in the middle of the night in the same manner; gradual, like he’s in the middle of swimming to the surface for air.

In any case, it seems like bones have spilled from the closet again. Cheng Xiaoshi makes a note to pick them up in the morning.

“Hey, are these new?”

Cheng Xiaoshi picks up one of the polaroids littered on the coffee table one afternoon. Lu Guang looks up from his novel and at the Polaroid in his hand. 

“Yes—yeah,” Lu Guang says with an uncharacteristic stutter. Cheng Xiaoshi peers over at him, and unless he’s mistaken, he notices the rosy splash across Lu Guang’s cheeks. For emphasis, Lu Guang says, barely above a whisper— “I’ve picked up photography again, I guess.”

Cheng Xiaoshi hums in intrigue as he begins looking through the collection of polaroids on the table; some are random shots of around the studio, the sitting area with setting sunlight cast across the room, a dark shot of the empty kitchenette, of the doorway. Other polaroids capture much more scenery; the bramble of leaves on the trees outside their windows, chrysanthemums blooming in a distant field, a luminescent full moon. 

The keepsakes make something aflutter in Cheng Xiaoshi’s chest. He almost recognizes the sentiment in Lu Guang’s rekindled interest in photography. Something in the photos calls to be cherished; to be appreciated.

Cheng Xiaoshi worries he does not cherish daily life enough. Should he start taking more photos, too? What should he document, what should be the subject of his photographs, his attention?

He meets Lu Guang’s eyes again.

“It seems like you’re bored too, if you have such a large collection of photos,” Cheng Xiaoshi says after a beat. Lu Guang notably flusters, and Cheng Xiaoshi grins at his shyness. “No need to be ashamed of being bored, Lu Guang.”

Lu Guang clears his throat. “I guess I am bored.”

“Happens to the best of us,” Cheng Xiaoshi says. He picks up the polaroid of the moon from the table and eyes it closely. Its iridescent white circle beautifully contrasts against the midnight blue canvas of the sky, it lights up and glimmers around the neighboring stars.

“The moon is really pretty here,” says Cheng Xiaoshi, lowering the photo into Lu Guang’s line of sight. When silence persists for a moment too long, he flits gaze his over to Lu Guang, noticing his cloudy, gray eyes that hold something trained on him before they peer down at the photo in his hands. 

“…I guess so,” Lu Guang answers. His voice is light, muted as if it concealing itself, and the rosiness across his face is no longer mistakable.

To that, curiosity ignites in Cheng Xiaoshi. He snuffs the flame out, saving it for later, and continues to sift through the photos.

Later that same night, when Cheng Xiaoshi is wide awake and sleep is a distant thought, his memories drift back to the instance that afternoon. He thinks of Lu Guang’s stare when he had held out the photo for him to see, how his eyes reflected an array of colors drowned by erratic strokes of white paint across a canvas.

He doesn’t think of much else that night.

One day in September, Lu Guang suddenly falls ill.

Cheng Xiaoshi knew something was off from the second he woke up and sensed tension in the air. It’s eerily silent in the bedroom, even at high noon, and when he calls Lu Guang’s name and receives no response, bells go off in his head and he scrambles off of his bed. Immediately, he pokes his head up to the top bunk and is met with Lu Guang’s horrifically still form.

“Lu Guang?” Cheng Xiaoshi calls again, his voice threatening to break into a cry, and when Lu Guang still does not stir, he hurriedly takes to the ladder and climbs onto the top bunk.

“Lu Guang, hey,” Cheng Xiaoshi says, his voice bleeding around the edges as if cut by glass. He shakes the still body in panic. “H-hey, Lu Guang—“

Lu Guang lets out a quiet groan. Cheng Xiaoshi almost stops in his tracks.

Lu Guang turns his face enough to look at him with bleary eyes, the grays hazy and whites reddish. It’s only thing Cheng Xiaoshi senses how warm Lu Guang’s body is, a sweat covering his limbs and a pink splashed across his face. “Cheng… Xiaoshi?”

He pointedly ignores the morning timbre in his voice, choosing to feel momentary relief from Lu Guang being conscious. 

“Are you okay?” Cheng Xiaoshi asks a moment too delayed. “Are you feeling well?”

Lu Guang lazily blinks and narrows his eyes, groaning as he slowly shifts his body across the bed. Cheng Xiaoshi places a palm to his forehead, and what he finds confirms his growing suspicions.

“A fever,” Cheng Xiaoshi says. Why? Is it the change in weather, his injuries? What could cause—

“Cheng Xiaoshi,” Lu Guang says in a delirium, an illness-induced whine in his voice. Cheng Xiaoshi’s heart skips a few beats. Lu Guang places a clammy hand on top of Cheng Xiaoshi’s, carefully intertwining their fingers. Cheng Xiaoshi can’t tell if the heat in the room is from Lu Guang’s fever or possibly from his own body elevating a degree or so— no, be calm, be normal, he tries to convince himself, now isn’t the time to be useless when Lu Guang is so obviously sick—

“Don’t go,” Lu Guang murmurs. Cheng Xiaoshi blinks.

“Uh, Lu Guang?” He hadn’t planned to leave at that moment, but the idea of getting medication from downstairs had crossed his mind. “I’m not—“

“Don’t go,” Lu Guang repeats. It’s quieter, dangerously treading along the lines of a plea. It reverberates around Cheng Xiaoshi’s mind, pulses through his heart and rattles against his ribcage.

Something risky and unwarranted threatens to burst forth. Cheng Xiaoshi swallows it down.

“Okay,” he says thickly. He blinks back whatever tries to come over him in that instant, taking advantage of the moment to tighten his fingers around Lu Guang’s. Lu Guang lets out a broken hum at that, and Cheng Xiaoshi carefully crawls into the bunk to lay beside him. It’s something he wouldn’t had thought of doing in any other instance, and yet.

And yet.

“Hey. Don’t you want to take medication?” Cheng Xiaoshi asks after a few minutes of silence. Lu Guang doesn’t respond, so he looks over his shoulder to see that he had dozed off, their fingers still wrapped around each other.

Cheng Xiaoshi lets out a shuddering breath, not letting go of Lu Guang’s hand.

“Don’t go,” Cheng Xiaoshi whispers under his breath, allowing his voice to dangerously crack. “Please don’t go anywhere, Lu Guang.”

Cheng Xiaoshi overhears Qiao Ling and Lu Guang talking one afternoon.

The two talking isn’t uncommon at all, but the hushed tones and lowered voices he can hear them speaking it despite it being in the middle of the day catches his attention. He only takes a few steps out of the upstairs bathroom before his ears notice Qiao Ling’s voice. He forgoes heading downstairs and intently listens from outside the bathroom door instead, trying his best to pick up on the few syllables loud enough for him to hear.

“—ever going to tell him?” says Qiao Ling, barely above a whisper. Cheng Xiaoshi feels like she’s referring to him. 

“…. I can’t,” says Lu Guang after a prolonged moment of silence. The moment continues long afterward, and almost immediately, Cheng Xiaoshi fills the void with a question—

Are they keeping something from me?

“He deserves to know,” says Qiao Ling, her voice desperate.

“But he—“

“Lu Guang,” Qiao Ling cries.

“…No,” says Lu Guang after a delayed beat. “Not right now, he—“ a pause. “He has a lot to think about, I can’t burden him any further.”

“You have a lot to think about, too,” Qiao Ling replies. “And he’s there for you. And you two need to talk.”

Cheng Xiaoshi tunes out much else after that once his suspicions are confirmed. He waits around a few seconds longer before heading downstairs, greeting the two with an exhausted vigor that he knows they could easily see through, but that doesn’t matter. What ultimately matters is that they’re keeping a secret from him.

That evening, shortly after Qiao Ling said her goodbyes and went home, Lu Guang comes to him with a long awaited proposition—

“Let’s reopen the photo studio.”

It was expected to be brought up eventually, but Cheng Xiaoshi blinks at him in a small stupor. “Really?” He asks. Lu Guang visibly falters for a moment, so he quickly tacks on, “Okay.”

“Without the photo diving, for now,” Lu Guang adds. That was also expected. “You’re right. There’s not much point in us sitting around and doing nothing, so we should—“ Lu Guang hesitates– “We should reopen the studio.”

Cheng Xiaoshi duly notes the fraction of hesitation and instantly thinks of what he had overheard in the afternoon, how every pause could be Lu Guang carefully crafting his words to maneuver around whatever secret he’s hiding from him.

He sours at the thought. “Okay,” he says. “Anything that brought on this change of thought?”

It’s a bit forward, a bit antagonizing too, and he can see Lu Guang wince under his scrutinizing gaze. Cheng Xiaoshi can’t discern if his skin turns red from the attention or from the setting sun reflecting off of his pale face.

“No,” Lu Guang answers eventually. Cheng Xiaoshi can’t tell if it’s truthfully. “I just agree with you now. There’s no reason why we can’t go back to running the studio normally at the moment.”

Maybe it’s an answer Lu Guang thinks he wants to hear. It’s hardly an answer to the growing storm of questions Cheng Xiaoshi harbors.

Regardless, if Lu Guang doesn’t want to speak, then who is he to push it?

Cheng Xiaoshi nods. “Okay,” he says again.

Bones begin to violently rattle in the closet. They’re loud, louder than the k-drama movie Qiao Ling came over and forced him to watch.

Lu Guang was actually smart to quickly retire to sleep the moment Qiao Ling had brought up the new romance movie that had just came out for streaming. Qiao Ling had explained the plot to him as she situated herself on their couch while browsing for the movie on the TV, but he admittedly didn’t bother to pay attention. He instead planned to intently train his eyes on the screen and hope that the story would click at some point, but he forfeited that idea around twenty minutes into the movie and only pretended to follow just to satisfy Qiao Ling.

It’s not long after he stopped paying attention to the movie when he observed Qiao Ling’s lack of focus on the movie. Her lack of apparent interest is blatant, her eyes unfocused and her legs and hands restless. It had been almost ten minutes of this before Qiao Ling finally said something.

“I think about her a lot,” she whispers.

That piques his attention. He looks over to Qiao Ling, notes the suddenly weightier bags under her eyes and the twiddling of her thumbs.

“Li Tianxi,” she breathes, her voice indelicately cracking around the name. “I think about her so much. She— she was so sweet. She reminded me—“ a hiccup— “of when you were little. I wanted… I wanted to be there for her. To protect her, and she— I—“

Her voice breaks. Cheng Xiaoshi’s heart twists.

“I can’t think of her without thinking of her bleeding out,” Qiao Ling confesses. “The look in— in her eyes, I— I can’t—“ she shakily inhales, the first trail of tears spilling down her face, “The blood. H-her blood. I can still feel it on my hands. No matter how many times I’ve washed my hands, it doesn’t go away.”

Qiao Ling doesn’t meet his eyes once, her gaze intent on a smudge on the wooden floors, her hands shaking. “Do you know why I’ve never worn t-that cardigan again after only wearing it once?” She asks.

It takes Cheng Xiaoshi a moment to recall the cardigan she’s talking about— the baby pink one.

“It—“ Qiao Ling sniffles. “The color. It reminds me of— of when I had— Lu Guang—“

Cheng Xiaoshi furrows his brow at the disjointed train of thought, but after a long moment, he remembers. An icy memory comes to the forefront of his mind; Qiao Ling in a pair of silky pink pajamas, blood splattered across her hands and clothes and face, a bloodied knife in her hands, Lu Guang’s unmoving body saturated in red.

“Oh,” Cheng Xiaoshi breathes. It’s a quiet noise, one that can’t begin to cover the weight of the realization he just had. Qiao Ling has been struggling with these horrible, horrible thoughts all this time, what has he been doing just ignoring the signs? His heart beats against the ribcage violently as he reaches out to hold her, assure her, and Qiao Ling just—

She just shatters.

She frantically wraps her arms around him, shaky palms resting on his shoulders, and her cries delve into sobs.

“Y-you idiot,” she cries into his chest. “D-Don’t you ever try and take a bullet in your side again. Are you stupid?” She pauses to catch her breath for a moment. “I can’t lose you, Cheng Xiaoshi. W-We can’t lose you. Don’t you ever dare do something as ridiculous as that ever again.”

Cheng Xiaoshi soothingly rubs at her back. “I won’t,” he says. He wants to promise her. He’s not sure if he can.

Qiao Ling must hear it too, but she accepts his assurances. She chooses to cry in his arms until she drifts into a restless sleep.

In the end, it's the provocation from his thoughts that brings Cheng Xiaoshi to say something.

He had already been in his bunk to go to sleep when Lu Guang enters the room. Lu Guang is in the middle of making his way to the bunkbed ladders when Cheng Xiaoshi hastily calls his name.

“Hm?” Lu Guang wordlessly replies. Once Cheng Xiaoshi has his attention, a flicker of fear ignites in the pit of his stomach, but he finds it easier to speak once he’s put on the spot.

“You’re hiding something from me, aren’t you?” It comes out too much like a question, like he’s begging for confirmation he has practically received on his own. Lu Guang’s eyes widen, and the hitch in his breathing is audible.

“You’re keeping a secret,” Cheng Xiaoshi reiterates, and this time he is more certain. Emotion leaves a broad stroke across Lu Guang’s face, and it’s the final nail in the coffin.

“I don’t know if I can judge you for hiding things from me,” Cheng Xiaoshi says. “It’s— there’s a lot of things we both need to say, it seems like.”

Lu Guang cautiously edges near him. “Cheng Xiaoshi—“

Cheng Xiaoshi grabs him by the arm in a swift movement. His touch is gentle nevertheless, and he meets Lu Guang’s eyes, littered with heavy, gray, stormy clouds. How far does sun lie behind them?
“Should I start?” Cheng Xiaoshi asks. Lu Guang’s lips part oh so slightly, a ghost of a breath passing through them. Cheng Xiaoshi slides his hand down to Lu Guang’s forearm, his fingers laving against his skin, and  each and every hair follicle he has on it.

“I almost went back for you,” Cheng Xiaoshi confesses, his voice weak under the weight of his sin. “When I thought you were dead. Isn’t that extreme of me?”

Lu Guang stirs.

Cheng Xiaoshi swallows thickly around the lump in his throat. “I couldn’t— I can’t imagine you not… being here. I can’t imagine…”

He trails off, taking Lu Guang’s hand in his, bringing it to his face. He tilts his cheek into his palm, steadying his breath, inhaling his touch, his presence. His hand is cold, soothing against the heat thrumming under his skin. He meets Lu Guang’s eyes again, tracing the glint of light in his silvery gaze.

“I’ve never once thought of— of diving, or, something to find my parents. I don’t know where they are. I don’t know if they’re dead. I just know they’re gone, but I—“ Cheng Xiaoshi’s breath hitches when Lu Guang’s thumb curls along his jawline— “I don’t see any point in scavenging through photos to find them. I can’t bring myself to do it.”

Lu Guang patiently stands at Cheng Xiaoshi’s bedside, looming over, silently asking for permission. Cheng Xiaoshi sniffles, gently coaxing Lu Guang to sit beside him.

“Because I can live without them,” Cheng Xiaoshi whispers, his breath mingling between them as Lu Guang still holds him. “But I—“

“Cheng Xiaoshi,” Lu Guang interjects. His voice almost sounds teary, his tone frightful. But so much has happened to make him realize, that nothing should be able to scare Cheng Xiaoshi out of what he needs to say. He finds that once he starts, he is unable to stop, and now is as good as a time as ever.

“I can’t lose you,” he cries. It hangs in the air. “I can’t survive without you, Lu Guang.” 

Unshed tears blur his eyes and obstruct his vision. He can’t see into the depths of Lu Guang’s eyes, he can hardly distinguish his figure, so he clings onto him tighter, closer, resting his head on the crook of his shoulder.

“I don’t know what you’re hiding from me,” Cheng Xiaoshi murmurs into his shoulder. “But I know I need you here.” I need you, his thoughts echo. 

Lu Guang’s fingers trail along his back, situating on his waist, and in a delayed moment, Cheng Xiaoshi distantly acknowledges that they’re swimming into dangerous waters. The air is thick. Lu Guang breathes into his hair, lets his fingers wander along Cheng Xiaoshi’s sides. His fingertips ignites little blazes along the trail they leave behind, and Cheng Xiaoshi lets out a shuddering sigh, holding him even closer.

When Lu Guang’s fingers brush underneath his sleep shirt and upon the scarred skin on his side, Cheng Xiaoshi’s heart thuds violently against his chest.

“Lu Guang,” he cries, but it comes out as a whine.

In an instant, the haze is shattered.

Lu Guang’s body stiffens and he peels himself away from Cheng Xiaoshi, holding him at arm’s distance. The sudden movement makes Cheng Xiaoshi cower. 

“I….” Lu Guang stutters. His skin is flushed red, eyes muddled and wide. “Cheng Xiaoshi, I—“

“Lu Guang?” Cheng Xiaoshi cries out. Immediately, Lu Guang’s demeanor shifts.

“I— I can’t,” Lu Guang says, his eyes a vast ocean of emotions; affection, contemplation, fear.“Cheng Xiaoshi, I— not— not right now.”

It takes Cheng Xiaoshi a second too long to process it all, but when he does, the violent wave of rejection crashes against his chest. Not right now, no, it’s not explicitly rejection, it’s not a resounding no, but it’s—

“I’m sorry,” Cheng Xiaoshi murmurs. His heart beats in his ears, rattling his bones with every thump, threatening to drown out all other sound. “I’m sorry,” he repeats.

Lu Guang’s face painfully twists. “No, it’s not—“ He takes a breath, deep as if trying to inflate a punctured balloon. “I need a moment,” he says, somber. “I—“

He reaches a tentative hand over to Cheng Xiaoshi. Cheng Xiaoshi cautiously takes it.

“I just…” Lu Guang laves his tongue over his bottom lip. Clouds of confusion hang overhead, threatening to unleash its unrelenting downpour upon them. 

Cheng Xiaoshi glances at their clammy, connected hands. The ghost of Lu Guang’s touch on his side lingers. 

“It’s okay,” Cheng Xiaoshi breathes. “I’ll wait,” he says, his voice breaking around the second syllable. “I’ll be here, Lu Guang. Take your time.”

He doesn’t want to wait. The memories, the bones, the phantoms chant now, now, now; but who is he to take advantage of Lu Guang in such a moment, so he tries to rationalize the idea of them having time.

It hurts.

Not respecting Lu Guang’s wishes would hurt more.

So instead, he smothers the fear of them racing against an invisible hourglass. He tries to find solace in the idea of them having forever and all the time in the world to eventually unravel this sentiment, their thoughts, their everything.

“I’ll wait,” Cheng Xiaoshi repeats again, picking up the glass shards of his voice.

Bones are scattered across the floor again, the closet door slightly ajar. Cheng Xiaoshi doesn’t bother to clean them up.

Somehow, Cheng Xiaoshi had missed manning the front desk of the studio. 

Maybe it’s because of the small glimpses he gets into other’s lives as if sifts through their photographs. He finds it to be almost therapeutic: organizing different photos, processing film, greeting strange faces with a smile befitting of customer service.

He’s sorting through a collection of photographs from a customer when a specific one catches his eye. It’s a photo of a sunset, but the setting sun pales in comparison to the canvas of mountains in its foreground. 

“Huangshan,” a female voice says. Cheng Xiaoshi almost startles, turning to face the female customer. “In the Anhui province,” she adds.

From a glance, he can tell she’s older than him, if by a little bit, if her poise is anything to go off of. She greets his eyes with a gentle smile.

Cheng Xiaoshi nods, glancing at the photograph. “They’re beautiful,” he says. “Did you take these photos?”

The woman nods, a wistful twinkle in her eyes. “I went with a friend a few years ago. Figured I’d get these images processed now.”

He hums. “Sharing memories?” He asks, analyzing the photo.

“Ah,” the woman says. “You could say that. It’s more of for a memorial.”

Cheng Xiaoshi’s eyes flit over to her in contemplation, confusion. The glisten in her eyes and her meek smile answers the forming question in his mind. Cheng Xiaoshi’s heart goes staccato for a moment.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he says quietly. 

“Don’t be,” the woman says lightly. “I’ve mourned her long enough.” Her eyes hide behind her blonde hair and lower to the photo on the table between them. “If I can’t do anything, I’ll at the very least cherish the memories I’ve made with her.”

Cheng Xiaoshi solemnly nods and sorts out another photo. This one is a selfie, no doubt taken in the same mountain range, of two women; one is very obviously the client who stands before him, the other being a woman with long jet black hair and tanned skin. The black haired woman freely wrapped an arm in an embrace around the other woman, grinning from ear to ear, the corners of her eyes crinkled.

“You two seemed very close,” Cheng Xiaoshi comments. The woman before him’s smile broadened slightly.

“I loved her,” she says, confidently. “I still love her. I think she loved me back, too.”

To this, Cheng Xiaoshi raises a brow in intrigue. “I see,” he says, delicately. “Were you two—?”

He doesn’t miss the deter in the woman’s smile. “Ah,” she says, stiltedly. “You see, where she was adventurous, always living in the moment and excited for whatever endeavor life threw at her, I was… shy.” The woman pauses. “Tentative. I could only dream to have the amount of confidence and the love for life she had. I think that’s why the day she told me she loved me I was…scared. I knew her parents were waiting for her to marry, so I was afraid what that would spell for us if we had gotten together. I was afraid of what people would think of us. So with all the love and adoration in my heart for her, I pushed her away.”

Cheng Xiaoshi lets out a shuddering breath. “I’m sorry to hear that,” he says.

The woman shakes her head, a faint smile still gracing her lips. “I longed for her back then. I admittedly still do. But I know now there’s nothing more I could do about it… she passed from illness a year ago.” The woman falters again. “I dearly miss her everyday.”

For a moment, Cheng Xiaoshi has a dangerous thought. He eyes the selfie on the table, gazing deep into the lovestruck smiles painted broadly across both the women’s faces, an idea beginning to form in the depths of his mind; twelve hours, twelve hours should—

“But I don’t live in regret,” she says. “Well, maybe I do… forgive me for lying. The regret I have is not taking her hand that day, confessing my love for her, succumbing to her embrace. But I can’t sour my memories of her by contemplating what could’ve been over and over, can I? No, I choose to cherish the plentiful amount of good memories I made with her. Each and every smile, every laugh, they’re special to me. I hold them dear to me; no matter what course our relationship might’ve taken, the love I hold for her remains the same.”

She gazes at the photos on the table for a moment before looking up to meet Cheng Xiaoshi’s eyes. The earnest look of nostalgia and adoration reflects off of her eyes, and Cheng XIaoshi can only stare in amazement.

“I’ve learned to cherish every moment I have with someone I love,” she says, her voice wistful. “You shouldn’t ever let fear and hesitation get in the way of that, either. After all, we all have a limited amount of time on this Earth before we eventually pass on. It’s important to use that time on the people we care about at any moment, right?”

For a moment, a white canvas with a hazy silhouette flickers across his mind. His heart plays a familiar melody, echoing in his ribcage, stirring the pits of his stomach and flittering in the cavern of his throat. “Right,” he says after a beat. The woman serenely smiles and nods.

“Let me not take too much of your time, however,” she says with a grin. Cheng Xiaoshi perks up— oh, right, your order!— and quickly files her photos into an envelope, delicately placing it in her hands.

“Thank you,” she says, accepting the envelope and stashing it in her purse.

Cheng Xiaoshi vigorously nods. “You’re welcome.”

“No,” she says, still smiling. “For listening to me.”

“Ah.” Cheng Xiaoshi nods again. “No, thank you— I, uh—“ Gray clouds swell in his throat—  “I needed to hear something like that, I think. Thank you.”

The corners of the woman’s eyes knowingly crinkle. “I wish you luck,” she says, before exiting out the door.

Not long after the door chime finishes ringing, Lu Guang suddenly appears in the room, offering to take over the front. Cheng Xiaoshi grants his eyes the privilege of roaming over Lu Guang’s figure, taking in the soothing skies hidden behind his gray gaze, the grace in his posture.

After Cheng Xiaoshi chooses to satiate his eyes, he obliges and leaves the front for Lu Guang to man.

Qiao Ling, bless her heart, always knows precisely how to question him. She didn’t bother to press him when she had first arrived to the studio to whisk him away on a grocery shopping trip, nor did she bother to start her interrogation in the depths of the frozen food aisles. It was only when the sun had begun to set and they were walking home when she decided to begin probing.

“Did something happen?” She asks. Cheng Xiaoshi piques a brow at her vague question.

“Did something happen where?” He asks in return.

Her nose scrunches. “With you and Lu Guang… Lately when I visit, it’s like the air is… different.” She glimpses as him, concern buried in her gaze. “Is something going on between you two?”

To that, Cheng Xiaoshi deflates. Is there? He tries to not let his mind wander back to the other night. He tries to avoid thinking how his heart had dredged up his bones and laid them bare for Lu Guang to see, or how Lu Guang had pushed him back so nervously— how he pleaded with him, saying not now, not right now—

“Maybe,” Cheng Xiaoshi says. He ponders. “I mean I… I don’t know. I don’t know if he wants there to be something going on.”

Qiao Ling blinks at him.

“It’s just,” Cheng Xiaoshi starts rambling, “I think I was a bit too forward, maybe? I had—“ he flusters, “—he pushed me away. He just—“ he stammers. He swallows thickly, finding interest in the weeds growing through the cracks of the sidewalk. “Am I making sense?” He asks.

Qiao Ling gapes at him. “No.”

Figured. Cheng Xiaoshi deeply inhales, a last ditch attempt at recollecting his thoughts. “Alright,” he sighs. “Well. The other day I had… spoken to Lu Guang. I don’t know what happened, I just had a lot to get off of my chest in the moment. I kinda dumped a bunch of feelings on him at once. I think that’s why he pushed me away, I probably overwhelmed him with…” he breathes, “…my nonsense, or whatever.”

His heart beat leaps to his throat.

“I couldn’t help it,” he says, barely above a whisper. “I know it was a lot, but what happened was a lot. It made me think a lot about I feel. The moment one of the police officers had lied to me and told me that Lu Guang was… dead… I didn’t even think logically about it. I just wanted to go back for him.” His voice cracks. “That exact moment put it in perspective for me. I really care about him. We’ve been through so much. I almost lost him, I can’t lose him, I can’t live without him, Qiao Ling. I think that’s— that’s when I realized… I think I—“

Qiao Ling lifts a hand to his lips. Cheng Xiaoshi startles and glances down at her to see the glint in her eyes.

“Don’t tell me,” she says. “At the very least, don’t tell me first.”

She meets his eyes in a knowing stare; a stare painted in the hues of wisdom, a stare that reads, I know. I know you do.

“You know you should tell him,” she says. “I’m sure he feels the same.”

Cheng Xiaoshi’s heart skips at the assurance. He denies it with his words.

 “Didn’t you hear me? He pushed me away that night. I know he told me to wait, but I—“ he pauses, “I feel guilty, I don’t want to. I feel like now more than ever I’ve learned how quickly things can change when you wait.”

Qiao Ling hums. “If it counts for anything, I don’t think it was him rejecting you… Maybe he was just… scared.”

Cheng Xiaoshi’s face twists in confusion. “Scared?”

Qiao Ling nods with a renowned air of certainty. The look in her eyes shifts a few degrees. “Scared of being hurt,” she says.

“I would never hurt him,” Cheng Xiaoshi says with conviction.

Qiao Ling doesn’t stir from his vigor. “Not scared of you hurting him. It’s possible his fear of intimacy is because he’s scared of hurting himself.”

Cheng Xiaoshi thinks about it; the idea rattles around his brain, the remnants sit in his stomach. He suddenly feels smaller, like his heart had been punctured and began spilling its contents again for all to see.

“I really care about him,” he repeats.

Qiao Ling begins to smile. “I know,” she says. “And you’re right. We know that there’s no point in waiting around with a limited amount of time. So I think you know what you need to do.”

Bones litter the floor. Cheng Xiaoshi wonders if he should embrace them.

Lu Guang is crouched over the desk in their bedroom when Cheng Xiaoshi returns from the restroom.

A passing thought Cheng Xiaoshi has: he’s always found it nerdy how Lu Guang uses a reading lamp and bulky prescriptions to read his long novels in the middle of the night. It makes him look like an elderly man with countless timelines worth of wisdom, as opposed to a man in the ripe age of his twenties. 

Anyway. Cheng Xiaoshi makes his presence in the room known by gently saying Lu Guang’s name.

Lu Guang hums and turns the chair around to face him. “Cheng Xiaoshi?” He says. His voice is tender, like he carefully rolls his tongue around precious syllables.

Heat blossoms across Cheng Xiaoshi’s cheeks without warning, and he clears his throat. He takes a moment to regain himself by walking over to his bunk and sitting on the bed. 

“Can we talk?” He asks.

Lu Guang takes a moment to stare at him, sitting completely still. Then he takes off his glasses and folds them up, setting them next to the novel on the desk. When he meets Cheng Xiaoshi’s gaze from across the room, Cheng Xiaoshi spots the heat and storms behind his cloudy gray eyes.

Somehow, that motivates him to talk.

“I’m sorry," Cheng Xiaoshi says. It’s a good starting point. “For the other day. I didn’t mean to come onto you so strongly.”

Shame burns his tongue with each word. Lu Guang averts his eyes to the floor.

“I didn’t mind,” he says quietly. He makes his way over to the bed.

With the proximity, shame begins to burn all over Cheng Xiaoshi’s body, too.

“I don’t know where to start while still making sense,” Cheng Xiaoshi says. “There’s a lot to be said. There’s a lot I’m trying to figure out how to say.”

Lu Guang nods. “It’s alright,” he says. His fingers twitch slightly. “Take your time.”

Cheng Xiaoshi shakes his head. “That’s the thing. I don’t want to wait. I’m scared of waiting. It just feels like time is constantly, I don’t know, slipping through my fingers.”

Lu Guang’s face saddens. “I never want you to feel like that,” he says.

“We’ve seen what’s happened,” Cheng Xiaoshi says. Lu Guang does not argue.

“Besides, I think the amount of time we had doing nothing made me start thinking. I didn’t want to drive myself insane thinking, so I tried to ignore… stuff… but I know what I felt when everything happened. I know what I realized.” 

Cheng Xiaoshi carefully slides a hand across the bed to Lu Guang. He waits as Lu Guang takes it, interlocking their fingers.

For the first time, Cheng Xiaoshi pays attention to the way Lu Guang’s fingers hesitate to curl around his. It’s akin to the carefulness of holding something of glass in shaky hands.

Lu Guang holds him delicately.

“I need you here,” Cheng Xiaoshi brushes his thumb over Lu Guang’s pale knuckles. Tears begin to pool in his eyes. “I was so scared at the idea of losing you. I just… couldn’t imagine living without you.”

The room feels warmer. “The shock of… seeing you there made countless things fly through my head. When the police had told me you were dead, it was like some sort of thread… snapped in my brain. This big pile of feelings came at me at full force. I was scared. I was sad, I practically broke down. I was angry. And I had almost gone back just to save you. I think I would have if you weren’t alive.” He takes a deep breath. “I think somewhere in that huge mess of emotions I realized, ‘ah. So this is love.”

Cheng Xiaoshi can hear the sharp inhale of breath from Lu Guang, so he meets his eyes. They’re wide, a ray of light peering through the clouds, a glint of something Cheng Xiaoshi previously only dreamed on seeing so blatantly on Lu Guang’s face.

Cheng Xiaoshi chooses to find the words to describe it.

“I love you,” he whispers. “I’m sorry for being selfish, and I’m sorry for being impatient. But I love you. And I don’t ever want you to leave me again.”

Lu Guang’s jaw is slack, but he doesn’t say a word. His face is still, colors bleeding across it, smudged by a thin layer of white paint— but they’re still there. Through the stillness, they read so clearly. Cheng Xiaoshi’s heart patters intensely, and he fixes his gaze on the reddening of Lu Guang’s skin, the dead silence that follows. Their fingers are intertwined; they’re cold, they’re warm—

Cheng Xiaoshi clears his throat. “Just needed to say that.”

There’s a few more beats before Lu Guang’s carefully crafted expression crumbles. “You idiot,” he whispers. Cheng Xiaoshi tenses.

“Uh, Lu Guang—?” 

Lu Guang tightens his hold of Cheng Xiaoshi’s hand, and with unpolished finesse, he pulls him in and meets his lips with his own.

Lu Guang kisses him with the same poise he uses for all other aspects in his life; gently, like he’s touching something that is sensitive and must be cherished. Cheng Xiaoshi’s heart leaks into the kiss, its contents warm and soothing. He presses on tenderly, curling his fingers in Lu Guang’s hold.

All too soon, Lu Guang pulls back from his lips. Cheng Xiaoshi cracks his eyes open— he hadn’t even known when they closed— and sees the glossiness in Lu Guang’s eyes, the cinch in his eyebrows. 

“Lu Guang..?” Cheng Xiaoshi whispers. His name mingles in the air between them. “Are you..?”

“Shut up,” Lu Guang interjects. There’s no heat in his voice, and he fervently kisses Cheng Xiaoshi again.

Passion ignites a flame in the depths of Lu Guang, Cheng Xiaoshi can tell. Indulgence seeps into the kiss, and he welcomes it. Lu Guang uses his free hand to pull him in closer, tighter. Cheng Xiaoshi cards a hand through his hair, and carefully brings their bodies flush against each other.

When they part again, Cheng Xiaoshi opens his eyes, and there’s no denying the beginning of tears on Lu Guang’s face.

“Lu Guang,” he calls, bringing a thumb to his face to wipe away tears. Lu Guang rapidly blinks.

“I’m fine,” he says, barely above a whisper as if he’s afraid of his voice breaking. “I just…”

He places a chaste, tense kiss on Cheng Xiaoshi’s lips. His anxiety lingers on his tongue.

“Don’t go,” he whispers.

Cheng Xiaoshi sighs against his lips. “I won’t,” he promises, his hands sliding across Lu Guang’s cheek. “I’m here.” I’m yours.

He unlinks his fingers from Lu Guang’s and places his hand on his thigh.

“Is this okay?” He asks.
Lu Guang silently nods, and Cheng Xiaoshi delicately meets his lips. 

“I love you,” he whispers against Lu Guang’s lips. “You don’t need to say it back. Just wanted to let you know.”

He would actually love to hear Lu Guang say it back, but he knows various thresholds are being crossed just from the position they’re in. He doesn’t want to pressure Lu Guang into saying the words, so he hears it in the small, vulnerable noises he makes with each kiss. He feels it as Lu Guang’s slender fingers leave gentle imprints along his stomach, his sides. They travel up to his hair, careful to not snag on any tangles. 

Their lips still connected, Lu Guang coaxes him to rest on his back on the bed. As Cheng Xiaoshi’s head hits the pillows, Lu Guang lays on top of him, and he can feel white heat blooming across usually cold, pale skin.

Cheng Xiaoshi sighs into each kiss, even as their lips break apart. A soft, hazy heat illuminates Lu Guang’s eyes, and he dips his head into the crook of Cheng Xiaoshi’s shoulder, and tenderly places his lips there.

“Lu Guang,” Cheng Xiaoshi sighs. Lu Guang continues to pepper the exposed skin with kisses.

Lu Guang gives him a look with misty eyes. “Shut up,” he says, his skin reddening.

“It’s okay,” Cheng Xiaoshi says with a grin. “I like it. You’re possessive.”

Lu Guang averts his eyes like a shameful maiden. Slowly, his hands caress the skin under Cheng Xiaoshi’s shirt.

His fingers trail over the scar on his side again. He circles his fingers around the wound, gingerly, as if he’s holding something delicate. Cheng Xiaoshi exhales, melting under the careful touches.

Lu Guang places a kiss on his cheek. “I’m sorry,” he whispers.

Cheng Xiaoshi rubs a finger across Lu Guang’s lips. “It’s okay. It doesn’t hurt anymore.”

“I’m not talking about that,” he says. “You were right.”

“About?”

“I guess there’s a few things I haven’t told you.” Lu Guang’s voice wavers. There’s a slightly pensive glint in his eyes, and he places a peck on Cheng Xiaoshi’s lips. “But I will one day. I promise.”

Cheng Xiaoshi’s heart squeezes. Something festers in the pit of his stomach, something that is flurried and anxious, at the idea of waiting for an answer. Slowly, he recognizes his fear as irrational, but the bones rattle out a familiar cry of now, now, what about tomorrow, we don’t know about tomorrow, you don’t know about tomorrow—

But.

Lu Guang’s promise of a one day holds such a certain air to it. Lu Guang is certain of a tomorrow with him. Lu Guang is certain of a one day with him.

Lu Guang wants a one day with him.

Cheng Xiaoshi thickly swallows, fighting against his emotions turning into tears. He presses a finger to Lu Guang’s lips. “Alright,” he whispers into the silence. “I trust you.”

He can feel the formation of a smile from Lu Guang under his finger. He leans up to kiss it away.

This time, they take the time to properly draw out each and every second of the kiss. Cheng Xiaoshi savors the taste against his lips while pressing more onto Lu Guang. He pulls their bodies flush together, their hips touching against each others. He lets passion drip off his tongue as he wraps his arms around the crook of Lu Guang’s back. He lets one hand slide around his waist, and his fingers wander to the scar on Lu Guang’s side. Lu Guang embraces him tighter, and slowly, their legs wrap around each other. As they brush against each other, a shared sigh mingles through the air.

Cheng Xiaoshi’s cracks his eyes open through his arousal-induced haze and notices the bright red flush on Lu Guang’s cheeks.

“Hey,” he murmurs. “Is this alright?”

Lu Guang seems to fluster from his oversaturated concern. “Shut up,” he hisses, but there’s no bite when it comes from lips bitten red and dilated eyes. “I love you,” he whispers.

Cheng Xiaoshi’s heart swells. Scratch out a thought he had earlier: He really does like to hear I love you come from Lu Guang’s lips. “Is that a yes?” Cheng Xiaoshi asks with a growing grin.

Lu Guang deeply sighs. It is flooded with affection.

He leans down and carefully catches Cheng Xiaoshi’s bottom lip with his teeth and sinks into connecting their lips. Lu Guang holsters a leg between Cheng Xiaoshi’s, and he draws out the roll of his hips. Cheng Xiaoshi lets out a muffled cry at the first bit of friction between them, and his grasp on Lu Guang’s back becomes tighter. He lifts his hips to meet Lu Guang’s cautious pace, and gradually, they steady into a slow, tender rhythm. 

He nips at Lu Guang’s neck and feasts on the muted cries of pleasure the other man tries to hide. He lets his hands slowly explore the canvas of Lu Guang’s body, he intently studies each sound he makes with each part of him he touches.

“I’m here,” Cheng Xiaoshi tightly whispers as Lu Guang rolls against him. Lu Guang bites his lower lip and nods.

He peers down at him with misty, passionate eyes. “I love you,” he whispers again.

The grind of their hips increases in momentum, and a fractioned moan slips past Cheng Xiaoshi’s lips. He litters the bare skin around Lu Guang’s collar with kisses as he lets his hands sinfully travel down his abdomen. They stop their trail at the waistband of Lu Guang’s shorts. Countless boundaries have been crossed this night, he knows, yet he still looks up at Lu Guang for consent to continue.

“Can I?” He asks.

Lu Guang eagerly nods. “Yes,” he keens.

Cheng Xiaoshi shifts his hips to focus his rhythm on only one of Lu Guang’s legs. He dips a hand under Lu Guang’s shorts and begins palming at him until something in Lu Guang’s expression colors and cracks.

“Cheng Xiaoshi,” he whimpers.

“I got you,” he murmurs back.

Cheng Xiaoshi quickly finds the right pace for the stroke of his hand, and he watches Lu Guang unravel with every curl of his fingers. Lu Guang’s reddened lips stay parted, quiet moans slipping past them. The sight of Lu Guang melting before him spurs the heat of arousal in the pit of his stomach, and Cheng Xiaoshi can only increase the speed of how he rolls himself against Lu Guang’s thigh. The moment only continues for so long before the cries from Lu Guang become louder and louder, sweat forming on his skin.

“Cheng Xiaoshi,” he whines, “Cheng Xiaoshi, I—“

“It’s okay,” Cheng Xiaoshi says with a broken sigh. “I’m here.”

He rides against Lu Guang’s thigh harder, and can begin to feel the sparks in the pit of his stomach. He doesn’t relent on his hold of Lu Guang, who leans down to meet his lips, drowning his cries as he finally releases. The shudder of Lu Guang’s body against him snaps the thread in Cheng Xiaoshi, and he finishes with a groan not long after.

Lu Guang deflates and collapses on him, a panting, shuddering mess. Cheng Xiaoshi catches his breath while nipping at the space under his jaw. He pulls his stained hand out of Lu Guang’s shorts and lazily wipes it on a scrunched up bedsheet. Lu Guang stares at the action with disgust.

“I’ll deal with it in the morning,” Cheng Xiaoshi murmurs. He uses his clean hand to tip Lu Guang’s chin upwards to place a shy peck on his lips.

“Idiot,” Lu Guang mutters in between kisses.

“Mmm,” Cheng Xiaoshi hums. “You still love me, though.”

Lu Guang shies under his touch. “Yeah,” he says. “I guess I do.”

The next morning, Qiao Ling routinely stops by the studio. It takes her probably only five seconds of seeing the blissful look on Cheng Xiaoshi’s face and the extra bounce in his step before she quickly draws her own conclusion. When Lu Guang wanders into the front and she gets a good look at him, her conclusions are only reaffirmed.

“Oh yeah, shop is closed for today,” she says decisively. Her nose crinkles in disgust at how Cheng Xiaoshi’s sappy grin only broadens.

“Good for you two, though,” she adds after.

Lu Guang takes him to a field one evening. 

It’s uncommon for him to suggest trips to places like these, so when he had made the rare request, Cheng Xiaoshi quickly agreed. 

Lu Guang had wanted to go out to take photos of the last of the flowers of the summer and the blooming ones of autumn. The moment they had spotted a bramble of flora, Lu Guang had eagerly run off, his camera clutched in his hand. Cheng Xiaoshi found the sudden burst of passion adorable. 

He trails behind Lu Guang, who had already gone off into the distance to photograph the pasture. It’s cute how intently Lu Guang holds the camera to his face, fervently capturing every angle of the field he could.

It’s cute how much he values photographing every moment he can. It’s cute how Lu Guang shies away from showing just how much he cares for the fine details around him.

Cheng Xiaoshi’s heart strums a soothing melody. Lu Guang is really cute in general.

He smiles, quietly approaching Lu Guang but taking steps to not distract him.

A thought crosses Cheng Xiaoshi’s mind, and he doesn’t consider it twice before acting upon it. He reaches in his back pocket for his phone and opens the camera. He zooms in and focuses the lenses, and perfects his angle to have Lu Guang knee-deep in a field of colorful chrysanthemums in view. The sharp orange rays from the setting sun casts its warmth across Lu Guang’s face just right.

“I’ve learned to cherish every moment I have with someone I love. You shouldn’t ever let fear and hesitation get in the way of that, either.”

Without thinking twice, Cheng Xiaoshi presses on the shutter.