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“I can help you,” a quiet voice said, reverent and pleading and much too close. When had the boy gotten so close to him? Wasn’t he supposed to be guarding the entrance?
Xie Lian backed away, shaking his head even as his hands twisted in the sweat-damp robes to pull them away from his too-sensitive skin. His head pounded, mind clouded by the scent of the flowers and something else too, a familiar thrum. The world around him sharpened even as it spun in front of his eyes. He sobbed, fingers abandoning his clothes to bury themselves in his hair, clutching his head. “No,” he said, to himself and to the boy. “No, you can’t.” His back hit the wall, and he groaned.
“I can make you feel better. Not in the way you’re afraid of!” the boy rushed to clarify, his cheeks reddening beneath the filthy bandages. “Just trust me. Please.” He stepped closer, reaching out his hands to hover in front of Xie Lian’s shoulders. Close enough to touch, but careful not to. Not without permission.
Xie Lian’s traitorous body nearly leaned into his touch, desperate for those hands, any hands, on him. Years of mental training held him back, and he only turned his head away, humiliated. How old was this boy? Was he even fifteen? And here Xie Lian was practically throwing himself at him. What would his Guoshi think? He mentally recited the Ethics Sutra and felt the flower’s poison ebb and his mind clear a little. The incessant thrumming was still there, though, and he could feel the air in the cave starting to stir.
The boy was looking at him without fear, oblivious to the danger he was in. “I thought I told you to stay back!” Xie Lian snapped. “It’s not safe. Go and guard the entrance of the cave!” The boy wouldn’t leave, he knew, but perhaps with a shield between them he might survive.
“Your highness, please, let me help you,” the boy said again.
Around them, energy began to crackle ominously. He shifted his stance slightly, planting his feet more firmly on the ground. Stubborn, Xie Lian thought, but something else whispered: not stubborn--loyal. Devoted. This boy was determined to die for him, like so many other soldiers vowed to do every day.
Xie Lian felt the ground begin to tremble. From where he was braced with his back against the wall, he could feel the vibrations through the rock. He knew the flowers’ pollen had eroded his strict mental defenses in more ways than one, and this episode would be so much worse than any before it. It was too late to save the boy now, so why not let him die in service of his god?
“Alright,” he said, swallowing around the lump in his throat. “Alright, you can help me. Please help me.”
The boy didn’t waste a moment. He reached for Xie Lian, one hand cupping the back of his head, the other, his waist. An unpleasant jolt went through Xie Lian’s traitorous body, a remnant of the pollen not yet suppressed. Still, he let himself be moved into a clumsy embrace.
“I’m sorry,” the boy said, his voice soothing in Xie Lian’s ear. “I know you don’t want to be touched. I won’t forget, so just bear with it for a moment.” The hand that had been on his waist moved to his back, and a coolness seemed to seep from it. Xie Lian felt his shoulders relax. He let his head fall onto the boy’s shoulder. He took a deep breath and the air was still; the ground beneath his feet was still as well. He waited a moment, then another, but there was only stillness and the quiet calm emanating from the boy’s embrace.
Xie Lian felt his knees buckle, and then he was being lowered to the ground. The boy tried to arrange them so that Xie Lian could lie in his lap, but Xie Lian pushed himself up so that he was leaning against stone instead, a sense of propriety returning now that his head was finally clear. The cold, solid rock behind him helped rid him of the last of feverish heat from the flower, too, and he was relieved that his faculties were now firmly back under his control.
The boy seemed to realize that Xie Lian no longer needed his touch, so he moved back to a respectful distance. “I apologize for my insolence. I overstepped,” he murmured. “It won’t happen again.”
I’m the one who should apologize, Xie Lian thought, but how could he without revealing his despicable reactions to the boy, who would surely be uncomfortable if he knew. “Come, let’s go.” He took a strip of silk from his robes and covered his nose and mouth with it, then handed another one to the boy. Though their hands did not touch, it felt as if there were something twining between them, connecting them, drawing them together. As soon as it occurred to him, Xie Lian shook the thought away; perhaps it was a remnant of the flower, or perhaps it was a product of the experience they had shared, but either way, he was not in a position to entertain such ideas about anyone, let alone a boy not even fully grown.
Later, after his kingdom had burned down around him, when the cursed shackle suppressing his rage was not enough and Feng Xin was no longer there to talk him down, when his strict mental discipline began to crumble under the persistent torment of the half crying, half laughing monster, Xie Lian would often think of the boy in the cave and the stillness he had created in the tumult that had almost destroyed him. Xie Lian would remember the stillness, the coolness of his touch, and the calm that radiated between them, and he would build up the defenses his Guoshi had instilled in him and he would endure.