Work Text:
introductions need no names (ignition)
She first met the gray haired girl underneath the Arbor. The leaves gently, tenderly curled up towards the sky, holding the basket of leaves and white blossoms in the cup of its branches. The gusts gently blew through her pink hair as Fu Xuan gripped her text book and walked up the hill towards the Arbor.
It was a hot summer’s day. The sun shone brightly in the sky as clouds gracefully danced across the blue sphere. Fu Xuan could never deny summer’s beauty, but she always loathed the extra school work that accompanied it. Her parents, convinced that she was talented and brilliant and destined for something more, had signed her up for every other tutor in the city and so here she was.
Fu Xuan needed to read through chapter 15 by tomorrow and the spot underneath the billowing branches was the best place to do that. Except there was someone else already here. The stranger had her hair pulled up into sloppy pig tails, her clothes muddy and worn. She was dragging a stick through the dry dirt as she hummed a quiet song to herself.
Her fingers weren’t fat and chubby like all the other kids in class, rather they bent unnaturally, looking more like the stick she held than a part of her hand. They were knobby and calloused, unfit for the little kids they were.
“Excuse me,” Fu Xuan greeted. Her nanny had always stressed how important it was to use her manners. “Could you please move?”
“Oh, was this your seat? I didn’t see your name on it,” the girl quietly responded. She didn’t even look up from her dirt drawing when she talked to Fu Xuan.
“It’s a tree- why would I need to mark my name?” Fu Xuan pursed her lips.
“Then it’s not your seat.” The girl looked up at Fu Xuan, a defiant look in her lime green eyes. Now with her big head out of the way, Fu Xuan could catch a glimpse of her dirt drawing. Little fishes swimming across the pebbled ground. How cute.
“It’s not yours either,” Fu Xuan pointed out, not pouting because pouting was what little toddlers did when they didn’t get their way- and Fu Xuan was way too mature to pout.
“Well, finders keepers!” The grey haired girl even had the audacity to stick her tongue out at Fu Xuan. She frowned, tightening her grip on her text book. Who did this girl think she was?
“Fine! I didn’t want to sit there anyways.” Fu Xuan turned on her heel, moving to sit on the other side of the tree. The sun shined into her eyes, but it was fine anyways because her dad always said she shouldn’t be reading in the dark or it would ruin her eyes.
“Fine!” the girl echoed.
Fu Xuan pointedly didn’t engage with the strange weird girl on the other side of the tree as she turned back towards her assigned reading. Her text book was boring, as always. There was rarely anything interesting in the thick pages, especially for someone like Fu Xuan. She had always preferred watching the other kids in her neighborhood play while her tutor yapped on and on and on.
Still, Fu Xuan flipped through the pages diligently, stopping to answer the comprehension questions in her worn notebook. Xianzhou Loufu’s history was boring in her professional opinion. All of it was about war and battles and other sad depressing things.
By the time she finished all the chapters and closed her thick textbook with a satisfying thud, the sun was just starting to set over the horizon, and the gray haired girl was nowhere to be seen. She squashed down the fleeting traces of hope in her chest and picked herself up. Her nanny was probably starting to wonder where she ran off to.
snitches get stitches (fuel)
Make no mistake, Fu Xuan was never a competitive person. She found herself striving to be good at the things she did, of course, but she never outwardly aimed to put others down and push for the number one spot. It just seemed to always happen.
That was until second grade.
Her teacher liked to give out multiplication worksheets, always with 24 problems in six rows of fours, organized all neat and tidy. Each student was given their own worksheet based on the level of math they could perform with the goal to complete all 24 problems correctly in the given two minutes, to move up to the next level.
And not to brag or anything, but Fu Xuan was one of the top students at the high rank of 7. Not only was it a (very informal) competition to get all the problems done accurately, it was also a race to see who finished first.
The whole class sat in silence as they worked through the problems. Math had always come naturally to Fu Xuan. Something about the logic and reasoning behind the numbers was comforting to her, and yet. There was one more problem. She stared at the last problem on her multiplication chart.
7 * 8
She glanced up towards the ticking timer on the smartboard. She had around 46 more seconds.
Sevens were always a little bit weird for her. 7 was always a weird number and for some reason, the number always messed up her multiplication. This wouldn’t be the hill she would die on. Fu Xuan’s battles, the previous 23 problems, all sat nice and pristine and filled in and all she had to do was fill out this one.
7 times 7 was… 49? And then just add another seven.
Fu Xuan should’ve studied more, she frowned. The answer was on the tip of her tongue, she just needed some angel to give her the push and reveal it to her mind. Like some magic beam. Yeah.
50… 56? Fu Xuan checked her work, grinning as it all added up. Her legs dangled as she penciled in the number, ready to stand up and turn it in while all the other kids still struggled with their 5s and 4s. It was time she showed off.
But just as Fu Xuan was about to finish writing her 6 down, another chair scratched against the linoleum floor. Somebody else had finished before her. Fu Xuan frowned as she looked up and there was her nemesis. Qingque with her stupid grey pigtails was turning in her multiplication sheet. Worse of all, she was doing all of this before Fu Xuan. And from what she glimpsed, it looked like she had even doodled in the corner.
She couldn’t put a name to the overwhelming feeling in her chest, but she did know one thing.
This would not do.
She cornered her after school. Qingque was a very easy person to find once you knew where to look. Underneath the Arbor, the same tree where they first met, Qingque sat idly doodling into the worn dirt. Fu Xuan walked up to her with as much confidence as her little self could and frowned.
“You beat me today,” Fu Xuan started. She had a lot of other accusations and black mail material she intended to lay bare for Qingque to see. Then, the gray haired girl would understand the severity of the situation and back off. It was the perfect plan!
“So I did,” Qingque muttered, not looking up. It only made Fu Xuan frown more.
“You had enough time to draw on your paper before you turned it in.” Qingque didn’t deny the accusation. She didn’t even seem to react, lost in her own little world of dirt fishes and pebbled waves.
“You aren’t supposed to do that. Teacher said you had to turn in your paper once you were done. I’m telling her about your heinous crimes!!” Fu Xuan stomped for extra emphasis, internally proud of her for standing against the evil rebel.
And finally, Qingque reacted. She threw her head back and laughed. A full-on laugh. It threw Fu Xuan off, she was almost mesmerized by the sound. Qingque was always a quiet kid who kind of just sulked everywhere. Seeing her laugh was unexpected, to say the least.
She laughed and laughed, that beautiful sound coming in for encores after Qingque caught her breath. Fu Xuan’s face grew red with humiliation.
“Hey!” Fu Xuan stammered. “Stop laughing at me!”
“Or what? You’ll tell Teacher?” she giggled even more. “I don’t know who you think you are, but if you have a problem with me beating you, maybe you should do something about yourself instead of bothering me.”
That was the most she had ever heard Qingque talk. It was almost comical how much she did once the wall broke down. That didn’t change the fact that Fu Xuan, at the very big age she was, was being challenged. And one thing about Fu Xuan, she was beyond stubborn, especially when something came between her and her goals.
“You’ve stolen my spot twice, and I won’t let you do this ever again,” Fu Xuan vowed.
“If it doesn’t have your name, was it ever really yours?” Qingque looked at Fu Xuan and once again, she stared into those lime green eyes. “Try all you can, but you’ll never beat me.”
Qingque’s words lit a fire inside of her. Fu Xuan knew the moment they met underneath the Arbor, that she had found a worthy rival.
“You are going down,” she promised. And one thing about Fu Xuan, even at such a young age, was that she never broke her promises.
early morning conversations (growth)
When Fu Xuan walked into the classroom only to see the tables and chairs in a giant oval around the classroom, she almost walked back out right then and there. Seeing everything moved around could only mean one thing.
A socratic seminar.
And don’t get her wrong, Fu Xuan usually didn’t mind socratic seminars. She could talk about anything and string together enough reasonable sounding words together to get all her participation points, but it was 7 am.
Beyond all the excessive and redundant homework and the nearly weekly tests, Fu Xuan hated the early start time the most. 7 am was far too early for anyone to be awake let alone arguing about book themes with someone who clearly just skimmed sparknotes a few minutes before class started.
Still, she sat down in a random chair and took out her meticulously color coded and highlighted notes. Coincidentally, across from her was her rival. Qingque sat half slouched in the chair with a single blank piece of paper and a pen that was missing its cap. Her gray hair was still tied into those messy pigtails she wore since elementary. She looked… tired, for a lack of a better word.
Qingque was a habitual slacker, that was just who she was, but somehow she managed to step toe to toe with Fu Xuan every time even as she slept through lectures. They were both in the same top level classes, though their schedules varied. English was one of the two classes they shared this year, and this time, Fu Xuan was going to score higher marks, even if that meant pouring hours over analyzing Shakespere and editing her essay countless times. Sometimes, sacrifices were necessary.
The teacher put up the first question for the class to discuss as everyone finished settling in and like ravenous beasts, everyone started fighting to speak first. It was always best to get your ideas out first so you didn’t sound like you were copying someone else.
Fu Xuan sat back in her seat, taking a sip of her coffee as she lazily tracked the conversation. She waited for a lull after everyone offered their opinion before she struck.
“I agree with Lingsha’s take on the theme. I found the author’s usage of cliche tropes and motifs repetitive and more harmful to the overall flow and pacing of the story than helpful. There were a few scenes where he subverted the reader’s expectation like the scene on page 216, which I found added complexity to the author’s message, but overall, he failed to convey a meaningful theme.”
Her eyes stayed on Qingque as she slowly sat up straighter in her chair. Here was the moment Qingque started arguing against her take, no matter how absurd she sounded, Qingque always found a way to oppose her. It was entertaining, their back and forth.
“On the contrary,” Qingque strained a smile. “I found the cliches and motifs crucial to the author’s method. He carefully set up the expectations of a fantasy novel with all the tropes, and then used that to show how our perception of the genre negatively impacts how we interact with the media.”
Qingque twirled a pencil in her hand, maintaining eye contact with Fu Xuan the whole time. “If we view it from Fu Xuan’s perspective, it’s easy to point out the flaws and rushed areas because we are looking to reinforce our perception of the genre. The author doesn’t use the plot to convey the theme, rather he uses the characters. In your rush to stereotype the characters, you have lost the complexity and theme hidden within.”
Fu Xuan narrowed her eyes. It was an interesting take, certainly, if it weren’t for the fact that it was completely made up. The characters were made to be incredibly two dimensional, and all the talk about prejudice and stereotypes were just distractions from the fact that Fu Xuan was right and Qingque was not.
Still the class chimed in, agreeing with Qingque’s take and offering evidence to build upon. If it weren’t for the fact that they were on opposite sides of the classroom and in the middle of a socratic seminar, Fu Xuan would’ve gladly continued their debate in private.
She watched Qingque intently for the rest of the socratic seminar. There was something off with their debate. Usually she would egg Fu Xuan more and point out more flaws in her argument that only Qingque could come up with, but this time she seemed to melt into her chair once she was done talking.
It wasn’t until the end of the class, and a few short clashes between them, that Fu Xuan realized what was wrong. Qingque was sick and that idiot still came to class.
This would not do.
When the bell rang, she stood up and intercepted Qingque from the door. Pressing a granola bar into her thin stick-like hands, she leaned in and whispered into Qingque’s ear.
“Get better soon. I need my rival in tip top shape.”
Before turning on her heel and speed-walking to her next class, leaving a shocked Qingque behind. She didn’t know what possessed her at that moment. Was it a little extra? Maybe. But was it stupid of Qingque to show up to school sick? Definitely.
It was their nearly decade old rivalry. She couldn’t have Qingque losing because of a simple cold, now could she?
The storm inside your eyes (decay)
Fu Xuan rolled her pen around in her hands as she took a quick stretch break. Her back was already aching from hours of hunching over notes and practice tests. Her house was completely silent. She almost forgot how still it got when her dad went on his work trips.
Meandering down to the kitchen to get a snack, her trip was interrupted by the sound of thunder outside. It must’ve been a bad thunderstorm. The weather around the Loufu was calm for the most part, but when storms happened, destruction almost always followed in their footsteps. She would have to go check up on her flowers later.
She was halfway done with toasting a bagel when there was a knock at the door. Solicitors didn’t come by often, but it wasn’t uncommon for her neighbors to stop by and check up on her. But instead of old sweet Mrs. Kelly’s worried face, it was Qingque, completely soaked and clutching a surprisingly somewhat dry backpack in her arms despite the wild storm.
“Qingque? What are you doing here?” Fu Xuan opened her front door wider, taking in the girl in front of her. She was leaning against the wall underneath the overhang, hunched over herself like she was on death’s doorstep instead of Fu Xuan’s.
“I just- I need a place to stay for the night and then I’ll be out of your hair, I promise.” Qingque bit her bottom lip, looking anywhere but at Fu Xuan. She was a bundle of nervous live wires, soaked in the harsh rain and falling apart at the seams. It was uncharacteristic of the nonchalant, tired persona she had gotten to know over the years.
Fu Xuan wordlessly opened her door wider. Qingque shuffled in, taking off her ripped shoes and leaving them in a small pile outside.
“How did you find my house?” Fu Xuan asked. She tilted her head as she offered her rival a towel and a seat on the stiff leather couch. The fireplace was already gently crackling from earlier, filling in the silence as Qingque dried her gray hair.
“You’re an easy person to find,” Qingque murmured. She tiredly giggled before admitting, “Yukong gave it to me. Said if I needed a place to go, you're the one to go to.”
Yukong gave Qingque her address? A strong leader on the best of days, a big thorn in her side on the worst, she was the student council president, with Fu Xuan as the secretary. And though there were a few moments of tension when their vision for the school's future differed, Fu Xuan grew to respect her.
This though? Yukong came over once (once!) to work on a group project and now she was giving everyone Fu Xuan’s address. She needed to give her a talk on privacy and personal information sometime. But right now there were bigger things to worry about.
Her toaster dinged from the kitchen. She glanced over towards it for a second before turning back towards Qingque. There were a lot of other things Fu Xuan wanted to ask about, a lot of unknowns that Fu Xuan so desperately wanted to understand, but she looked at Qingque’s small shivering frame and filed them away for later.
“Right. Are you hungry? I have some toasted bagels with cream cheese,” she offered. Qingque seemed to curl even more into herself, still clutching her backpack in her lap.
“That sounds great,” Qingque quietly said. It was weird not butting heads with her constantly. It was weird that she was here in the first place, but it was weirder that Fu Xuan admittedly didn’t mind Qingque in her house.
Fu Xuan hummed as she took the fresh bagel out of the toaster, taking great care to spread the cream cheese somewhat evenly. She dug through the fridge before finding a box of strawberries and a mango she had been planning to save for a smoothie. Her deft hands carefully cut the stem off the strawberries and peeled the mango before cutting the sweet fruit into small strips.
She came out with the bagel and a small fruit platter. Really, it was the least she could do. Qingque took the food with a quiet thank you and a small smile as Fu Xuan took a seat on the other end of the couch. For the first time, Fu Xuan looked at the girl she had both envied and gloated over equally and really looked at her.
Qingque was someone Fu Xuan never understood. Every step she took was a contradiction. Like the way her eyes constantly held bags underneath them yet still stared blankly at the piles of homework left til the last minutes. Or the way she could talk for hours on end yet clammed up the second someone looked at her. Or all of the fishes she drew in the dirt only to stomp them into oblivion before she left.
“I’m sorry for ruining your night. I can pay you back, I just-” Qingque’s lip wobbled as held half a bagel in her hand. She stared at it as if looking at Fu Xuan would kill her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know where else to go.”
Fu Xuan carefully mulled over her words. She didn’t want to hurt Qingque anymore in her fragile state. “It’s no problem. Really. If it was, I wouldn’t have even opened the door for you in the first place. Yukong was right, if you need a place to go, my doors are open,” and just to retain a sense of normality, she tacked on, “though a warning next time would be nice.”
That seemed to calm Qingque’s racing mind enough as she let out a big breath and continued eating.
“Thank you, Fu Xuan. Maybe you aren’t half bad afterall.”
Fu Xuan smiled.
“The bathrooms down the hall to the right. If you need a change of clothes, you could borrow some of mine. And there’s the guest bedroom you could stay in,” Fu Xuan paused, pursing her lips, “or if you don’t want to be alone, I could get an air mattress for you and you can sleep in my room.”
“Yea,” Qingque answered. She took a careful bite of a mango slice.
“Yea?” Fu Xuan repeated, glancing at Qingque’s curled figure. “I’ll prepare the air mattress.”
The next morning, Fu Xuan woke up to an empty air mattress on the floor beside her and the rattling of her front door locks. Fu Xuan being the stubborn person she was, held on tightly to Qingque’s arm. She already had one foot out of the door and looked beyond ready to bolt away, but still Fu Xuan held on.
Fu Xuan looked into those lime eyes, or well as best as she could with Qingque squirming, and asked her to stay. Just another night. Until she knew for sure that Qingque did really have a place to stay and that she wouldn't die out in the streets where nobody could find her.
And Qingque stood there, hesitant as always, before she crumpled in Fu Xuan’s arms.
“Ok,” she whispered. “I’l stay.” It lacked any of the conviction she had years ago when their rivalry was first declared, but it was still her words. And maybe that would be enough. Fu Xuan’s grip softened.
“You aren't a burden,” Fu Xuan reassured. “Look around, Qingque, I’m the only one living here. I don’t want you out of my hair. You are free to stay as long as you need and then some. I enjoy your company.”
“Ok,” Qingque repeated. “Ok.”
Fu Xuan didn’t really know why she invited Qingque to move in with her. She didn’t understand what was going through her mind that day, but something about seeing her rival, her friend, comfortable and cared for made her happy.
Maybe it was for their rivalry. So Qingque would show up to school the next day, and all the days after that, and so they could argue in class about the right and wrong ways to solve an equation and different literature. Obviously.
Still, Fu Xuan didn’t understand why her heart kept beating so loud. She should get that checked out soon, it really wouldn’t be healthy longterm.
The day everything died out. (burnout)
Fu Xuan took a deep breath of the late summer night air. It smelt a little bit like smoked cedar and fresh rain. There was something about the air that she couldn’t find anywhere else. The crickets gently chirped in the distance, broken by cars driving by and the quiet murmur of graduates nearby.
This was the end of her journey. Or well, for now.
Celebrations had always been a bit bittersweet for her. On one hand, Fu Xuan had graduated. On the other hand, she couldn’t help but think of all the people she would be leaving behind. This was the last time her class would be together in the same room, and from there, everyone would go off onto their separate ways.
The ceremony had ended a while ago, and the second it ended, Fu Xuan had ran away from the crowds. Don’t get her wrong, it was surreal standing on the stage and addressing her classmates, especially with Qingque as co-valedictorian. Out of everyone, Fu Xuan was glad it was Qingque that stood next to her on the stage. She was a worthy rival, even if she never studied.
There were plenty of other friends she made along the way, Jing Yuan, Yukong, Lingsha, Tingyun, the list went on. They were all going on their different paths, never to stand in the same room together ever again. That thought had scared Fu Xuan since the very beginning, and now it was standing right in front of her.
“Fu Xuan? What a coinky dink!” Qingque popped out of the bushes, taking a seat on the bus stop bench right next to her. They weren’t that far from the stadium where the graduation ceremony took place, but it was still far enough that nobody would accidentally wander into her.
Meaning that Qingque was specifically looking for her.
“Qingque,” Fu Xuan greeted in return. She turned her head towards her rival. Qingque looked ethereal underneath the moonlight. She wore a sky blue hanfu underneath her blue and yellow graduation gown, the cords and stoles glimmering with pride. Her hair wasn’t in its usual pigtails today, instead it flowed down past her shoulder, adorned with clips and pins.
Her smile remained the same, with that small dimple on her right cheek making an appearance as Qingque took Fu Xuan’s hand.
“We did it, Fufu,” Qingque whispered like it was the world’s biggest secret.
“We did it.” Fu Xuan smiled in return. Her eyes fluttered as they tried to stay open. It had been a long day.
There was a comfortable silence hanging between them as Qingque scooted closer and Fu Xuan laid her head on her shoulder. All the tension left her body the second she leaned into Qingque. Her head fit perfectly in the curve of Qingque’s shoulder, like it was always meant to be there.
The two of them sat in silence as the stars gracefully danced across the night sky, blissful in their ignorance, melancholic in their distance. Amongst the gentle twinkling stars above, a shooting star flew by.
“Make a wish!” Qingque pointed at the faint streak in the night sky, careful to not jostle Fu Xuan.
“Hmm… I wish-”
“Don’t tell me! Or it won’t come true,” she interrupted. Qingque lightly giggled. Fu Xuan couldn’t help but join in.
“Ok, well, I made my wish.”
“And I made mine,” said Qingque. They lightly giggled again. Qingque always made it easy to do that.
Fu Xuan would never tell anyone, but in that moment, she wished that Qingque would stay. She wished that the moment they shared could last a little longer, so that Fu Xuan could live as a child for a little bit longer. She was deathly afraid of growing up, but being with Qingque always made her feel right.
Of course, it didn’t matter in the end.
When Fu Xuan woke up in the morning, she was alone. She hadn’t even realized she had fallen asleep, still sitting at the bus stop in her qipao and graduation gown. There were a few people standing outside the bus stop, actually waiting for the bus.
Her phone was almost dead and the only other thing she had on her was a blank diploma cover. She sighed as she called an uber with the remaining battery she had left.
Her greatest fear had come true. No matter how much she tried or wished or begged, Qingque ran away. It was just who she was in a way. Fu Xuan should’ve expected this. It was almost naive to think that she would change for her.
In the end, Fu Xuan was destined to end up alone. She realized her feelings too late, kept them to herself for too long, and let Qingque run away before she could tell her how she really felt. In the end, it was never meant to be.
Qingque didn’t even say goodbye before she left. One moment they were sitting side by side, watching the stars, and the next moment, all of Qingque’s social media accounts were disabled and her phone number was changed.
The thing about fire is they never go out loudly. There is no supernova, no giant explosion or loud screaming. Fires slowly burn out until they become nothing more than a pile of embers and charcoal. They like to go out gently into that good night.
Fu Xuan didn't know when she started loving Qingque. She didn't know when the lines between friends and something more blurred, if there was even a line to begin with. Maybe she had always loved Qingque to some extent all the way from the beginning. And maybe Qingque never loved her in return.
Their rivalry was the closest Fu Xuan ever got to Qingque. She saw the fire burning bright, and it scared her knowing she could get burned. And so she kept her distance, and watched the fire burn out.
(+1) reunited (embers)
They met again at a supermarket. The store was carefully air conditioned, nothing like the hot summer day when they first met all those years ago. Fu Xuan meticulously perused the produce section, looking for something healthy enough to get her coworkers to stop nagging her about nutrition and vitamins and other nonimportant things.
It had been years since they last talked, and though there was a quiet ache in her chest, Fu Xuan moved on like anyone else would. It was just a fleeting high school relationship. Nothing more. There would be bigger things to come in the future. Or at least, that’s what Fu Xuan tried to tell herself.
Except she missed Qingque. A lot. It was like when she left, she took a piece of Fu Xuan’s raw aching heart with her, never to be seen again. It had hurt, of course it did. But she had thrown herself into college and extracirculars, shaming herself for looking for a head of gray hair to compete with.
Hm. Apples were on sale today.
There was a commotion behind her, the sound of something falling to the ground one after another rang out in the small section. She felt an orange gently roll until it hit her foot. It felt soft underneath her deft fingers. Probably bruised after the tumble.
Fu Xuan looked up to find the owner of the orange when she stopped. Her mouth was left agape. In front of her was Qingque. Her Qingque. Her hair was still tied in those pig tails, longer with the passage of time, but all the same. Those lime green eyes still stared into her soul. She looked healthier, her features less sunken.
Fu Xuan held out the runaway orange towards Qingque, watching as her stick-like fingers gently plucked it out of her hands.
“Fu Xuan,” Qingque acknowledged. She turned back towards the rest of her oranges scattered around the produce section.
“Qingque.” It took her a moment to remember how the name rolled off her tongue. She used to say it all the time, but with how they drifted, the word felt foreign in her mouth.
Fu Xuan wondered if her love atrophied as much as the way her vocal cords did when they tried to say her name. Because that was what they had. Love. Even if it took those years apart for Fu Xuan to realize it, she at one point had loved Qingque.
“How have you been?” After Qingque ran away, Fu Xuan had always wondered how they would reunite, probably more than she should’ve. Late nights spent wondering, what would she say? Work parties spent in the corner questioning if Qingque even remembers her. It all culminated to this moment, and now, she was at a loss for words.
She was face to face with her again. Her rival, childhood best friend, muse, and motivation.
Qingque.
“I’ve been… good,” Qingque said lightly. She stood up with her bag full of oranges and dusted off the grime off her skirt. And oh how Fu Xuan missed her voice. She missed their late night talks on the roof, staring at the stars. And maybe it was part of growing up to leave behind sleepovers and joy and wonder for the world around them, but growing up didn’t have to mean leaving behind Qingque.
“Good, good.” Fu Xuan turned back towards the produce in the display, picking out a few apples. Qingque continued to linger in her periphery, opening her mouth a few times before closing. Fu Xuan wanted to say something, ask Qingque to stay a little longer like she did all those years ago, but the words died in her chest before she could say something.
“You look different,” Qingque eventually ended up commenting. She still refuses to meet Fu Xuan’s eyes, staring instead at the bag of oranges in her hand.
“I think I used to love you.” Fu Xuan isn’t really sure what compelled her to say that, the words just kind of fell out of her mouth before she realized what was happening. Qingque’s eyes flick up towards her.
“You’re just now realizing?” Qingque smiled. There’s a long pause, filled only with the newest overplayed pop song in the background, before Qingque quietly said, “I think I used to love you too.”
“Is that why you ran away?” And that was the other foot waiting to fall. Fu Xuan ached for closure after all the years, her heart was still left raw and mangled after Qingque ran away. She watched as Qingque flinched.
“Maybe. I don’t know, Fu Xuan. I was young and stupid. You were scary, you know?”
After all those years apart, that was the best she could offer in response. She still spoke in half truths and vague maybes, never enough to satiate Fu Xuan’s burning desire to understand.
She thinks of the way her heart ached at the bus stop. Of the way her numb fingers uselessly tapped against her phone to reach Qingque only to find nothing in response.
And Fu Xuan thinks of little Qingque, sitting all alone underneath the Arbor, drawing fishes in the dirt, and she thinks of how tired and small she looked at such a young age.
She tilts her head and hums.
“Will you run away this time?” Fu Xuan asked. Because even after all the pain and ache of betrayal, it was still Qingque standing in front of her.
“No… no I don’t think I will.” Qingque looked at her. Fully. Her green eyes had their full attention on Fu Xuan.
And Fu Xuan smiled. She picked up her basket, filled to the brim with a variety of fruits and vegetables, and gestured towards the check-out.
“One more time, for old time’s sake?”
And Qingque smiled in return, clutching her bag of oranges, following Fu Xuan.
Qingque isn’t the same person Fu Xuan used to know. Aeons, Fu Xuan isn’t the same either.
They’ve both grown over the years apart, but Fu Xuan smiles, looking over towards Qingque leaning her head on her shoulder, her stick like fingers intertwined in Fu Xuan’s hands, and she thinks that maybe she could get to know the new Qingque.
And maybe that was enough.