Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Mu Qing walked into his shared apartment with Feng Xin already in an angry, shitty mood. Maybe it was the winter chill seeping into his bones that made his chilly personality that much colder. Or maybe it was the awful night he had, or the spectacularly bad morning, or the horrendous day at work.

The previous night, Feng Xin had asked for his help picking an outfit for some unspecified event. Mu Qing was confused by the request because Feng Xin had never asked him for fashion advice before. Actually, Mu Qing is pretty sure he’s never seen the man wear anything but sweatpants and hoodies, and he’s not sure how well those can be styled. Curiosity got the better of him and he agreed to help. He regretted it almost immediately when he saw what kind of clothes he was choosing from. It was all formal, dress wear.

His heart lurched realizing Feng Xin was undoubtedly asking him for help picking an outfit for a date. When had Feng Xin planned on dating? In all the years he’s known Fen Xin, he’s never once seen him go out on a date. Feng Xin can barely be in the same room with a woman. There’s no way he’d be able to have a relationship with one. He knows Feng Xin has only dated one girl and that was when he wasn’t around to see it.

It might not be a woman, he supposed, but Feng Xin had never shown interest in men, either. So, there was no other reason he would ever dress like this, unless it was unequivocally date attire. This same spiral persisted in his head as he sorted through Feng Xin’s closet for outfit options. He debated picking the ugliest, most unfashionable outfit he could find. Unfortunately, his heart got in the way, and he ended up picking the best choice he could hobble together from the limited supply of nice clothes.

The clothes weren’t the only clues, either. Feng Xin had a chilled bottle of expensive wine he was taking with him. This definitely wasn’t the kind of wine you share with a friend. Mu Qing swallowed thickly watching Feng Xin fidget with his hair. Feng Xin had always worn his hair in a tight bun, but tonight he watches Feng Xin put his hair up and take it down numerous times. Feng Xin attempted to style his short, brown hair with gel. Still, after failing to look anywhere near presentable he eventually settled for his regular hairstyle with a groan of disappointment.

When Mu Qing tried to nonchalantly ask him where he was going dressed like this, Feng Xin waved off the question replying, “Trust me, you don’t want to fucking know.”

With the outfit chosen, Mu Qing watched Feng Xin check himself in the mirror looking pleased. He left their apartment and didn’t return for several hours. For the first hour, Mu Qing lay on his bed staring at his ceiling feeling overtaken with numbness. For the second hour, the emotions swept in, and he curled into a ball sobbing. For the third hour, he had no more tears left and ate an entire tub of ice cream by himself. For the fourth hour, he was angry, and Feng Xin came home.

Mu Qing saw him in the hallway. His tie was loosened around his neck and pieces of his hair fell from his usually tight bun. The top button of his shirt was undone, and he looked exceptionally tired. All the emotions Mu Qing thought he had cried out earlier came back in full force. He couldn’t help but wonder who got to have him all to themself like this. He didn’t understand why he was feeling this way. He hadn’t cried in so long. Why would Feng Xin finally getting his life together make his chest feel so hollow?

When Feng Xin saw him, the tiredness seemed to evaporate from him, and his eyes softened with a small smile spreading on his chapped lips. He tried to say something, but Mu Qing couldn’t stand to be near him any longer. He narrowed his eyes and told Feng Xin to hurry up and go to bed before walking into his room and slamming the door with unneeded force. He slid down the other side of the door and let a few more silent tears slip down his face. He finally crawled into his bed sometime in the early morning and barely got any sleep.

The next morning, he spilled his morning tea all over his white silk blouse. It was the brand-new one his mother had gifted him recently. He then had to take the time to change his shirt and treat the stain. He was fairly confident that the stain would come out just fine with the cleaning agent he used but now that he was rushing, he had to ask Feng Xin to start the laundry because the cleaning agent needed a few more minutes to soak in properly. Luckily, he was always early to leave and arrive at work, so now he would only be on time.

Or he would’ve been if the car had started. He and Feng Xin share an old, run-down, piece of crap car. Lately, it had been making a strange clicking sound and he told Feng Xin to look at it. Of course, he didn’t listen, and Mu Qing had to take the bus to work, making him a whole ten minutes late. Fortunately, he works for Xie Lian who knows he would never be late unless it was truly out of his control. Xie Lian had been nice enough not to acknowledge his tardiness except for a sympathetic nod of his head.

Although with that nod came Xie Lian tripping over himself and spilling his drink on Mu Qing's fresh shirt. Normally, he would’ve had a backup but the shirt he was currently wearing was the backup. So, he had to go about his day with a disgusting stain right on the front of his shirt.

It only got worse from there. He’s an accountant at the company Xie Lian owns and only a few hours into the day, their systems went down. Which means he had to go argue with the IT department to try to get things running again. Then, he had to deal with multiple complaints from the company's clients because of the problem. Not only that, but Xie Lian had planned to take off early to go on a trip with his boyfriend. Meaning, Mu Qing had to deal with all these problems completely alone. As much as he liked arguing, this was too much even for him.

His only relief was his lunch break. He got forty-five minutes of peace all day and still that got interrupted. He pulled out the sandwich he made himself and bit into it sighing in relief at the chance to finally relax. Mu Qing stupidly glanced at his phone and that’s when he realized he got a text from someone he really didn’t want to hear from today. The message almost made him fall out of his chair.

Today 12:06

Dumbass 😡 :

I’m going to eat your fucking ass

Me:

???

Mu Qing instantly felt himself blush furiously. He slammed his phone onto the table with the screen facing down. Logically he knew this must be some kind of mistake, but that didn’t stop his mind from wondering. Wondering what that might…He shook those thoughts from his head turning back to focus on eating. Nonetheless, that didn’t stop an unwanted thought from popping into his head. Maybe that text wasn’t meant for him.

Feng Xin could’ve been trying to message this mysterious new person he had been with. The thought made him want to vomit. He put the rest of his sandwich down, losing his appetite. All he could do for the rest of his break was stare at his phone waiting for a reply. At last, he found relief when Feng Xin responded more than thirty excruciating minutes later.

Today 12:41

Dumbass 😡 :

BEAT

Whatever

U knew what I ment

Wheres the fckuing milk

Me:

*you

*meant

*fucking

Learn how to spell.

We do not have any.

Dumbass 😡 :

Why the fuck not

Me:

Well, some dumbass decided we didn’t need any last time we went shopping.

Dumbass 😡 :

Don’t blame this on me

There’s no way I said that

You’re a lying liar

Me:

You were there. You should remember.

Are you getting dementia already?

Dumbass 😡 :

Whatever asshole

Do u thnk drinking creamer wold be like the same thing

Me:

*you

*think

*would

Fucking disgusting.

It’ll probably give you cancer.

Dumbass 😡 :

Stfu

What do u know

Me:

*you

Mu Qing rolled his eyes as he put his phone down. Turning his attention back to his sandwich, he tried to enjoy the minimal amount of his break he had left. Most of that time was spent picking the bread of his sandwich apart trying to distract himself from his thoughts. It was becoming more difficult with every passing thought about Feng Xin. Especially when his mind kept making its way back to the first message. He refused to think too hard about that unidentified emotion that sprouted in his chest when he read it. Then, he took a moment to chastise himself for imagining such things. He was incredibly annoyed with the man. Would he actually be dumb enough to try drinking straight coffee creamer? He picked up his belongings to return to working diligently and as he grabbed his phone, he got the answer to his question as another text from Feng Xin came through.

Today 12:52

Dumbass 😡 :

My tummy hurts😟

Me:

That’s the cancer starting to grow.

Dumbass 😡 :

STFU

Mu Qing rolled his eyes again and huffed a tiny laugh through his nose. Shaking his head at Feng Xin’s stupidity, he went back to deal with the same bullshit from earlier. However, the day became a little easier when he could think back to their conversation and chuckle to himself.

The rest of his day was spent trying and failing to focus on his work. All he could think about was Feng Xin. It started with him thinking about that message. Then, it moved to him thinking about the actions mentioned in the message. Then, he was pissed that Feng Xin was distracting him. He ended his day behind on work and intensely annoyed.

Truly this was a grueling day. Adding to the fray he was nursing a headache by the time he was getting off work. It didn’t help when he walked outside into the freezing cold to drive home, only to realize he’d have to wait for the bus. After waiting a half-hour with the wind wildly whipping the cold straight into him, he assumed anyone would be as sour as he is.

The bus ride in the evening was much more crowded and had more assholes than the morning bus. This, of course, meant he got punched in the face. A man accused him of stealing his wallet, which Mu Qing denied because it was obviously untrue. The man refused to believe that Mu Qing really didn’t know where his wallet had gone and hit him right on the side of the face. These things always happen to him. There must be something about his face that makes people assume he’s untrustworthy.

Normally, he would’ve hit back but the bus driver was already pulling the man away and throwing him off the bus. Unfortunately, he was thrown off at Mu Qing’s stop.

“Shit,” Mu Qing sighed as he booked it off the bus and ran straight into his apartment building without sparing a single glance behind him. The elevator was still broken, so he had to run up five flights of stairs before he finally made it to his apartment, swiftly locking the door behind him and breathing heavily. There were no sounds outside the door, so he assumed the man hadn’t had the gall to follow him.

Which concludes his terrible day that gave him this terrible feeling and he walks into the apartment cursing everything. He takes a moment to catch his breath, choosing to forget the incident and never think about it again, even though his face is still throbbing. He turns around to find Feng Xin sitting on the couch playing some sort of video game. He’s surrounded by chip bags and soda. Absolutely revolting.

Mu Qing knows it’s his day off, but he still can’t believe this is how he chose to spend it. Due to all his complications, he got home at 6:30 p.m. which is an hour and a half later than usual. He wonders if Feng Xin has eaten, yet. He walks straight to the fridge hoping to find leftovers from Feng Xin’s lunch or dinner or whatever kind of meal he’s had today. He’s hoping there will be something he can quickly heat up, knowing he won’t find anything because Feng Xin clearly has not moved from that couch all day. Still, he heaves an exasperated sigh at finding nothing.

“Have you eaten anything today besides the junk around you?” Mu Qing asks as he starts to take some ingredients out of the fridge to make something.

Feng Xin pauses his game to answer, “Nope. It’s my day off, so I haven’t moved a single muscle.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” Mu Qing replies rolling his eyes, immediately annoyed with his roommate, but he continues making enough dinner for the both of them. He’s a little worried that Feng Xin hasn’t eaten anything with nutritional value and thinking back to the creamer incident, he adds an extra serving of vegetables to the pan.

Feng Xin must be done with his game because he comes to sit on one of the bar stools in their kitchen and watches him work. Mu Qing never understands why he does this. Every time he cooks Feng Xin shows up to stare at him like he’s making sure he doesn’t get poisoned. Maybe he’s perplexed that someone he knows can cook since microwave meals are the extent of Feng Xin’s cooking expertise and Xie Lian can’t even do that without it turning inedible.

He notices Feng Xin’s brows morph into their signature furrow. He scoots forward on his chair to get a little closer to Mu Qing like he’s looking at something. He seems to realize something as his eyes widen slightly, and his brows knit even further. There’s some emotion Mu Qing can’t quite place in his voice, “What happened to your face?”

When Mu Qing only looks at him confused, he elaborates, “Do you have a fucking black eye?”

At that, Mu Qing’s eyes widen, and he squeaks out, “That bastard hit me hard enough to give me a black eye?!”

He runs to the nearest mirror and sure enough, there’s a bruise forming on his cheekbone and around his eye. A few moments later, Feng Xin is right there next to him with an ice pack. Feng Xin grabs his chin gently and tilts his face to get a better look at the bruise. “How bad is it?”

Their noses are nearly touching, and he can feel Feng Xin’s hot breath fan across his face. He wants so badly to lean in and get as close as possible, but he knows better than to think Feng Xin would want that.

The light touch of Feng Xin’s fingertips gliding across his cheek makes him want to reconsider. His hands are rough, but his touch is soft, and Mu Qing finds himself unconsciously leaning into the touch as Feng Xin traces the outline of his injury. It feels like Feng Xin’s hands linger on his face longer than necessary, and Mu Qing certainly isn’t doing anything to stop it. After the inspection, Feng Xin concludes, “It doesn’t look too bad. It should heal up in a few days. Let’s ice it for a while, though.”

He expects Feng Xin to hand him the ice pack but instead, he reaches up and presses it to Mu Qing’s face himself. Ice is supposed to be cold but with Feng Xin holding it, he’s as warm as an oven. He feels Feng Xin’s grip tighten on his chin with thinly veiled outrage as he asks, “Who the fuck did this to you?”

Mu Qing takes a deep breath to calm his heart before answering, “It was just some crazy stranger on the bus ride home. He accused me of stealing his wallet and when I didn’t give it back, because I didn’t have it, he did this,” Mu Qing gestures at the mark on his face.

“A stranger on the bus? You know we have a car you can take, right,” Feng Xin states dumbly.

Mu Qing thinks he could strangle this man right now. Feng Xin was with some stranger last night. The thought flashes in his mind before he can stop it. A pit forms in his stomach, and he wrenches his chin out of Feng Xin’s hold. He starts to move back to the kitchen while asserting, “It’s fine. Nothing we can do about it.”

Feng Xin seems to disagree but wisely keeps his mouth shut. He resumes his spot on the bar stool and continues to stare at Mu Qing while he makes dinner. Mu Qing wants to give him a black eye for looking at him like that.

In the end, he’s never complained about it once, though he would never admit this out loud, but having Feng Xin’s presence is comforting in a way. They’ve been in each other's orbit since they were fourteen. Although they fight frequently, they always seem to drift back to each other. When they were teenagers, Mu Qing always thought that Xie Lian was the glue between them and that without him, he would never see Feng Xin again.

That proved untrue when Mu Qing had to drop out of college to go home and care for his sick mother. He didn’t expect to see either of them again. He ended up with a part-time job while taking classes at the local community college, trying to finish his accounting degree so he could make some real money to help his mother.

A few months later, Feng Xin showed up at the café where he worked saying Xie Lian had dropped out, too. Mu Qing couldn’t explain what it felt like to see him again. He felt a pounding nervousness in his chest, but he also felt a wave of familiarity and comfort washing over him. Feng Xin had already finished his two-year business degree and declared he was going to open his own gym. He invited Mu Qing to come to check it out and that he would let him in for free. “We could even spar together again, like we did in high school,” he claimed.

We didn’t spar in high school we senselessly threw punches with no coordination, Mu Qing thought to himself but chose not to correct the man in favor of continuing to staunchly ignore him. Mu Qing had initially rejected the offer by not showing up. However, Feng Xin, being the stubborn bastard he was, began to send coupons for the gym every few days or so to his mother’s house where he was living. When his mother saw this, she was so moved by his “nice gesture” that she forced Mu Qing to go. He showed up, hoping he’d be able to look around for five minutes and then leave and never look back.

Then, Feng Xin saw him and the broad grin that spread across his face seeing Mu Qing had finally accepted one of his hundreds of invitations was irresistible. He told himself they would only spar once and that day they did. But Mu Qing ended up staying until closing time as Feng Xin gave him a tour of all the equipment. He even showed him his office, which was a disastrous mess, and introduced him to his business partner, Pei Ming.

The whole time, Mu Qing was trying to figure out why Feng Xin wanted him to show up so badly. He thought he might just be lonely, and he was the only person Feng Xin knew here. That theory was debunked after meeting Pei Ming. To this day, he still doesn’t know the answer and after not figuring it out that day, he swore he would never go back.

The next week he went back. He sparred again with Feng Xin and, afterward, while Feng Xin was in the locker room showering, Mu Qing snuck into his office and tidied everything up. The thought of his debauched office had bothered Mu Qing all week. In the process of cleaning, Mu Qing found the business’s books and almost keeled over from annoyance. That’s how Feng Xin caught him, hunched over and mumbling to himself about how unorganized their finances were. They had a fight about it when Feng Xin claimed the books were perfectly fine and Mu Qing claimed his handwriting was illegible and he was never returning.

The next week, Mu Qing completely redid and fixed their books. That became their routine. Feng Xin would catch him at the entrance, and they would spar. After, Feng Xin would go to the locker room to shower, while Mu Qing, who refused to use a shared shower, would go around and fix the little details of the place. He would reposition the décor like moving the decorative plastic plants into a more refined position or fixing a crooked wall decoration. He would secretly check over and redo their books, occasionally. Each time it ended with them fighting, but Mu Qing continued to show up each week.

Things changed when Xie Lian showed back up. Neither of them knew how to handle seeing him again. That was until he invited both of them to move into his apartment. They had glanced at each other, finding it suspicious that Xie Lian would rent a three-bedroom apartment for just himself, though he never really thought these things through. However, Feng Xin immediately accepted the offer which made a pang of jealousy reverberate through Mu Qing’s chest. Feng Xin would have never agreed if he had been the one to ask.

Mu Qing took some more convincing, but in the end, he agreed, as well. Or rather, his mother kicked him out saying he was too old to be living with his mother. He tried to reason with her that he was only there in the first place to take care of her, but she told him to hire a real caretaker and that he needed to go live his life. It was hard for him to leave her on her own, but he knew it would be impossible to change her mind. He always worried about her, especially the times she ended up calling him after being admitted to the hospital when she fell or stopped taking her medications. He begged her to let him take care of her, but she wouldn’t budge.

The three of them quickly fell back into their old ways. Feng Xin and Mu Qing bickered over the smallest inconveniences and Xie Lian would always break it up. They still had their weekly sparring sessions but now Xie Lian tagged along some days. He always stayed on the sidelines never joining the fighting. Mu Qing enjoyed his company while Feng Xin showered, especially when he would help Mu Qing secretly work on the gym’s finances. Whether that be through distracting Feng Xin long enough for him to put everything away, or by sneaking the books home for Mu Qing to look at in his spare time.

It didn’t last long as Xie Lian moved out of their shared apartment to move in with his boyfriend only a few months later. The boyfriend, they found out, that had been paying most of their rent while they were there. He and Feng Xin had begged him not to leave, scared they wouldn’t be able to afford the rent anymore and even more scared they would rip each other apart without him there to mediate. Everyone was equally surprised when that didn’t happen.

They had grown accustomed to each other and fell into their own routines. They started alternating chores and buying groceries together. Mu Qing would pack both of them lunches for work and Feng Xin would make himself coffee and Mu Qing tea in the morning. Mu Qing would still occasionally pick fights. With the swirling storm of emotions he felt every time he saw Feng Xin doing regular everyday tasks, sometimes the only way he knew how to respond was with wrath and insults.

He’d see Feng Xin rushing around getting ready for work because he’s always late, and Mu Qing would shake his head and call him an idiot, but the way he hurriedly packed his bag for the day and the panicked look on his face were somehow endearing. Often, he’d have a miniature heart attack after catching Feng Xin coming out of the shower or in the middle of changing because he never locks any doors, ever. Several of these instances crept back into his mind when he was alone in his bed. Even seeing him try to make himself lunch and failing miserably somehow found a way to make him sweat.

Oh, but the worst was watching him fix their car. Bent over the hood trying to guess what needed to be fixed. The contemplative look across his features. The heat of the engine making him sweat and take his shirt off. He would ask Mu Qing to pass him a wrench and he would gladly hand it over to see how his muscles flexed while tightening the bolts.

Mu Qing shakes his head to whisk those thoughts away before Feng Xin notices the blush leeching into his skin. As Mu Qing is finishing up with their dinner, Feng Xin moves to grab them both plates. It truly amazes Mu Qing how good they have gotten at this. They are so in sync these days that it’s almost worrying. He’s waiting for it all to blow up in his face.

Eventually, Feng Xin asks him the dreaded question, “So, how was your day, besides the punching?”

Mu Qing looks down at the stained shirt he’s still wearing then back up to glare at Feng Xin. After the day he’s had, the last thing he wants to do is talk about it. Feng Xin doesn’t seem to get the message as he continues, “I thought you changed your shirt this morning after you spilled the tea on it.”

“I did.”

Feng Xin’s brows furrow like he’s trying to solve a puzzle. Mu Qing ignores him in favor of plating their food. By the time Mu Qing sits on the bar stool next to him, it seems Feng Xin has completed the puzzle and realizes Mu Qing had another drink spilled on him, “Well shit, yeah, that would ruin anyone’s day.”

Feng Xin props his head up on his hand and looks at him with a softness in his eyes. Mu Qing has seen this look countless times since the moment they met, but he’s never been able to figure out what it means. Feng Xin only ever looks at him like this and it makes him inexplicably furious. The only explanation he can think of for that look is pity. There’s no other reason Feng Xin would look at him like this.

Mu Qing picks out a sizable vegetable from his plate and throws it directly at Feng Xin’s face. It hits him squarely in the center of his forehead. Right as it lands its mark Mu Qing rolls his eyes to emphasize his statement, “Quite looking at me like that.”

“Fuck! What, am I not allowed to look at you anymore?!” Feng Xin raises his voice as he rubs the spot on his forehead with a pout.

“No! Not until you fix the damn car, like I asked you to,” Mu Qing spits feeling his festering frustration from this awful day grow into something more.

“Is something wrong with the car?” Feng Xin asks sounding genuinely confused.

“Are you serious? I asked you to look at it weeks ago and maybe if you’d listened to me, I wouldn’t have had to take the bus! That stupid piece of scrap metal wouldn’t even start this morning!” Mu Qing didn’t mean to bring this up so aggressively. He knows the car is old, but the building pressure of recent events is making his tongue loose with venom.

“I looked at it last fucking week and there was nothing wrong with it. Maybe you’re the one who screwed it up, or maybe the damn thing’s just old,” Feng Xin is getting more infuriated by the second as he continues, “And why didn’t you come get me? Oh, I know, because you can’t fucking bear having to ask anyone for anything. Well, grow the fuck up!”

Mu Qing has felt a building fury every time he so much as thought about Feng Xin today and where he’d been last night. Now with the man himself sitting right in front of him, he’s overwhelmed with a mix of emotions. He knows he’s infuriated, but there’s something else underneath. It’s a pain and yearning that’s been haunting him for over a decade and his emotions are a volcano that’s about to erupt, “I’m the one who can’t ask for help? Then why the hell can’t we take the car to an actual mechanic for once? Because you think you can fix everything yourself! Plus, I asked you to help with the laundry this morning. Let’s check on how that’s going or if you just sat on your ass all day!”

Feng Xin’s face visibly pales at that. Mu Qing gets up abruptly, almost causing his chair to fall over. He walks straight to the laundry machine that’s in a small closet next to the bathroom. The basket is still full of the same dirty laundry it had been when he left. Feng Xin slowly approaches from behind trying to gauge his reaction. Mu Qing bends down and pulls out his shirt from this morning.

The stain like someone drew it on with a highlighter excruciatingly assaults his eyes. It’s completely ruined. The stain is set in now and there’s no way it’ll ever come out of this material. Mu Qing turns around holding up the evidence to Feng Xin, seething in anger. Feng Xin throws his hands up like he’s surrendering and tries to explain himself, “Look I wasn’t sitting on my ass all fucking day. I had to help Pei Ming with this thing, and—“

Mu Qing interrupts him by pushing him out of the way, making Feng Xin’s back slam against the doorframe and leaves the closet while exclaiming, “I don’t give a fuck about your excuses! My mother gave me this shirt. Do you know how much it cost? She worked so hard even while she’s fucking dying just so she could buy me this one nice thing!”

“I’ll buy you a new one,” Feng Xin looks visibly shaken and distressed reaching for his wallet, “Tell me how much. I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

Feng Xin’s previous anger has completely vanished, but his attempt at an apology only makes Mu Qing increasingly livid. He crumples the ruined shirt into a ball and flings it at Feng Xin’s chest. “I don’t need your money, your charity, your pity, whatever the hell you think you can give me, I don’t want it!”

With that Mu Qing turns around heading towards the door. He hears Feng Xin from the hallway call out, “Wait! At least take a fucking jacket!”

Mu Qing isn’t listening anymore and storms out of the apartment screaming a final, “Fuck you,” as he slams the door with a sense of finality. He races down the stairwell like someone’s chasing him. For all he knows, Feng Xin is chasing after him. He leaves their apartment building and is immediately slapped by the chill.

He follows the streetlights down the road and around the corner. It’s not late, but it is already dusk. With the winter comes shorter days and the gloomy sky and empty streets match Mu Qing’s mood. Just as he rounds the corner and is out of view from the apartment building, he hears the jingle of the door opening. He knows exactly what idiot would be bumbling out here so loudly. Mu Qing panics knowing he’s absolutely not ready to face him yet.

He’s already starting to feel kind of bad for his outburst, but he’s also still kind of angry. He doesn’t know what he’ll say to Feng Xin if he sees him, and he doesn’t want to find out. So, he does the only logical thing he can think of, he starts sprinting down the sidewalk. He turns a few corners and impulsively ducks into the first alleyway he sees to hide behind a dumpster.

It smells terrible and he’s thoroughly embarrassed by his choices. He tries to think of places to go and is struck by how few people he knows. His actual first thought is the one person he absolutely will not be calling. After that, his first thought is Xie Lian but he’s out of town for the weekend. Plus, calling him would mean having to deal with his boyfriend and even in his best mood he refuses to put up with him. His next thought is his mother, but the last thing she needs right now is to stress about his problems. On top of that, he’d have to explain to her what happened and he’s not ready for that conversation yet.

He ends up taking out his phone and calling his last resort: Pei Ming. The more he thinks about it the more Pei Ming, unfortunately, looks like his best option. Mostly because he knows it’s the last person Feng Xin would expect him to call. The longer the phone rings the more nervous he becomes that he’ll be interrupting one of his many dates. That fear is almost confirmed when Pei Ming answers, “Hey, sweetheart! I was just on my way to your place,” then vanishes just as quickly as he continues, “I need to return something to Feng Xin.”

“Ew, don’t call me that,” Mu Qing must clarify before he can continue further.

“Alright, alright. So, what up? You’ve never called me before. I didn’t even realize you kept my number.” Mu Qing had seriously considered throwing it away. Especially with the disgusting way Pei Ming had given it to him, obviously trying to hit on him. He only kept it in case of an emergency, which he’s now very grateful he’d done. Although, he thought the emergency would look very different from this and involve Feng Xin bleeding underneath some weightlifting equipment.

“Can you come pick me up? I’m on the next street over from the apartment,” Mu Qing briskly voices before he can chicken out. He then decides to quickly add, “And don’t tell Feng Xin!”

He hears an overexaggerated surprised gasp, “So, you want to be sneaky about it? I hope this is the kind of meet-up I think it is.”

Mu Qing can practically hear the smug smile through the phone speaker. Honestly, he’s more annoyed by the nonanswer than the unwanted advancement as he replies exasperated, “Fuck off, perv. Are you coming to get me or not?”

“Fine, I’ll be there in five,” Pei Ming confirms sounding annoyed his joke didn’t land, and Mu Qing doesn’t waste a second hanging up the phone. The next five minutes are spent periodically peering out of the alleyway for Pei Ming’s car. The entire time his phone is buzzing nonstop in his pocket but he refuses to look at it or give it any thought. By the time he finally spots Pei Ming’s gaudy sports car, he’s so cold he’s shaking. He jumps out of the alley hoping Pei Ming won’t notice he was hiding.

The car isn’t even completely stopped when Mu Qing throws open the passenger door and hops in. The warmth of the heater makes Mu Qing’s shoulders relax and he reaches for the control panel to turn the heat up even more. Pei Ming stares at him with one eyebrow raised like he’s expecting Mu Qing to say something. Mu Qing grants his wish, “Well… drive!”

Pei Ming obeys and turns onto the street of the apartment before Mu Qing realizes where they’re going. He ducks down in the seat so no one outside the vehicle can see him while frantically whisper-yelling, “Not here! Drive anywhere but here you asshole!”

“But I need to drop something off.”

“Do I look like I care? Drop me off at a dingy motel or on the side of some sketchy street, first. Then you can do whatever you want!”

Pei Ming raises an eyebrow at him, “Oh, I see. You and Feng Xin are fighting again, huh? I don’t really understand why you called me of all people.”

“Honestly, you were my last resort, so just shut the hell up and take me miles away to a bench on the side of the road I can spend my night on, so I don’t have to see Feng Xin’s stupid face right now,” Mu Qing hisses, feeling his phone start to vibrate again.

“Alright fine, you can spend the night at my place, but you have to go talk to him tomorrow.” Pei Ming replies unpleasantly. He then hears him grumble to himself, “I’m not looking forward to explaining to him why his precious Mu Qing is spending a night with me.”

Mu Qing chooses to ignore the last comment, thinking Pei Ming is making fun of him, and continues to sit in silence. He reluctantly takes a quick glance at his phone to see that Feng Xin is trying to call him and completely powers it down to ignore him. The rest of the ride to Pei Mings's place is silent. Pei Ming makes a few attempts at conversation that fall flat on their face with one glare from Mu Qing. Pei Ming doesn’t live incredibly far away, but he does have a sizable pine forest surrounding his house. He’s one of the few people Mu Qing knows who can afford to live in a house in this economy.

Walking into Pei Ming’s house he’s informed that he will be sleeping on the couch and not to touch the box behind it or he’ll be scarred forever. Pei Ming also says something about a shirt for him in the bathroom. Mu Qing is barely listening as he feels the persistent pressure in his chest that he’s been feeling since he slammed the door of his apartment in Feng Xin’s face tightening.

As Mu Qing sits down on the couch, he hears Pei Ming say, “You’re unusually quiet. Where’s all the snarky comments?”

“You’re being unusually poised. Where are all the pervy advancements,” Mu Qing snaps back, blood boiling and rolls his eyes, truly not in the mood for any of this.

“Fine, be that way… but are you sure you don’t want to talk about it.”

“Absolutely not. And certainly not with you,” Mu Qing bites back and Pei Ming throws his hands in the air in defeat as he walks into the kitchen, but with nothing else to distract him anymore, it’s all he can think about. He thinks about the events that transpired to bring him here. He thinks about the shirt. He knows his mom won’t be mad because she never is. The way he yelled at Feng Xin is starting to loom over his conscious. He wasn’t really that mad so why did he run away? Why did he feel so helpless and overwhelmed?

He thinks about the car. That wasn’t Feng Xin’s fault when he takes a second to think about it. It’s just a piece of crap car, and he started that argument out of nowhere right after Feng Xin had taken the time to take care of his black eye, no less. Why did he do that? Why did he feel so attacked by the simple question Feng Xin asked him?

He thinks about the night before. The few hours Feng Xin had been gone felt like torture. He felt so many emotions simultaneously that he wasn’t even sure what he was feeling. Shouldn’t he have been proud of Feng Xin for getting back out there after so many years? Maybe he thought they would both grow old together in that apartment with nothing ever changing. He sort of thought they would both die alone in their rooms across the hall from each other. Now, Feng Xin was going to move out and grow old somewhere else.

He’s found someone else to spend his time with. He'll date them and dote on them with all his undying love. They’ll probably have kids together someday. He’s never imagined it before, but he thinks Feng Xin would be a good father. That girl he’s found is going to be so lucky to have him. He’ll be so loyal it’ll be annoying. He’ll do anything she asks without questioning it and he’ll never be able to tell her no. He’ll even marry her. He’ll marry someone. He’ll marry someone who isn’t Mu Qing.

The thought cracks something inside Mu Qing’s chest, something that he’s been holding in and pushing down for over a decade. It feels like the summer sun melting a frozen lake. At first, the warmth only creates a few cracks, but the water underneath is leaking through them. Is he jealous?

Jealous of what? That someone else will have to deal with Feng Xin’s unbridled temper. That someone else will have to clean up after him. That someone else will get to make him lunch. That someone else will get to see him panicked and running out the door every morning. That someone else will be on the receiving end of his broad, gentle smile and his boisterous laugh. That someone else will get to touch him the way Mu Qing has imagined touching him for years—

Shit. He’s jealous.

The pieces of ice floating on the lake’s surface are starting to sink to the bottom and become one with the churning water. He feels his eyes start to well when the realization hits him. He’s taking in deep, gaping breaths trying not to let his emotions spill over. His face is scrunching up with the effort to keep everything inside. He must look deranged right now and he’s certain Pei Ming can see him from where he’s doing the dishes in the kitchen.

“I’m going to the bathroom,” Mu Qing states, standing up abruptly without any more warning and heads straight to the bathroom. Pei Ming doesn’t have time to answer him before the bathroom door is shut and locked behind him.

Mu Qing takes a deep breath and splashes freezing cold water onto his face. There’s a dark blue, long-sleeved, cotton shirt sitting on the counter, and he assumes this is the shirt that’s for him to change into. He gladly puts on the bland shirt that he would normally scoff at, happy to be out of the disgusting stained one he’s been wearing.

He looks to his left and sees a window. Snow has begun to trickle down in the time he’s been here. It’s not an intense snowfall but it stubbornly sticks everywhere on the ground. He turns his attention to scrutinize himself in the mirror.

He looks disgusting. There are bags under his eyes from his restless night with barely any sleep. The black eye has started to become more prominent and painfully noticeable. He splashed the water too aggressively and the bangs hanging free of his ponytail are now soaked. His bangs aren’t the only pieces of hair sticking out of the ponytail either. Countless pieces are astray, making him look significantly more deranged than he thought possible. He rips the ponytail out, but as he’s gathering up his hair to redo it, he hears a faint sound.

It sounds like Pei Ming is talking to someone near the door. No, more like whispering. As quietly as he can, Mu Qing slowly unlocks and opens the door. Thinking it’s one of Pei Ming’s many girlfriends, he’s silent as he slinks back toward the couch, trying not to disturb them. After all, he really doesn’t want to be a nuisance and get himself kicked out.

He stops short when he realizes the voice at the front door isn’t a woman’s. He wonders who it could be until he realizes he can hear everything they’re saying because Feng Xin is a loud, annoying asshole. He peaks around the corner for a moment to spy on them and hears Pei Ming say, “Dude, I don’t know why he came to me, but he’s in the bathroom right now, and you know I would never do that. Especially after you made me promise.”

“Don’t let him hear you or he might bolt again,” Feng Xin hissed on the other side of the doorway’s threshold.

“That’s why I’m whispering,” Pei Ming whisper-yelled, but neither of them were being as quiet nor sneaky as they thought.

“Look, I finally got our car running, so I’ll take him home when he’s ready.” Feng Xin says loudly back, gesturing toward where he must have parked their car outside.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea? If he called me, he must really not want to see you. Like at all.” Pei Ming tries to reason with him but Feng Xin isn’t having it.

“I don’t fucking care, I need to tell him I’m sorry. I also need to find out what the fuck is really going on because I’ve never seen him get upset like this. There’s no fucking way it's only about a shirt.” Feng Xin exclaims, making Mu Qing’s eyes go wide as he realizes he might be caught in the emotions he’s trying his best to shove deep down and never think about again.

“I still think you might want to wait until morning. What if he won’t go home with you?” Pei Ming questions.

“Then, fuck, I don’t know. I’ll sleep on your fucking floor.” Feng Xin sighs, shoulders slumping.

“You can sleep on the porch for all I care.”

“Alright, just make sure he doesn’t run away again. Shit, I was so worried. It’s way too fucking cold for him to be wandering around on his own.” Feng Xin shakes his head, sliding a hand down his face, his expression twisted in worry. Mu Qing’s face twists as well, but in anger at Feng Xin’s words. He can’t stand it when he treats him like a child who can’t survive on his own.

That’s when he and Feng Xin lock eyes. How did that idiot figure out this is where he ran to? Thinking back, he remembers seeing Pei Ming typing on his phone. That traitorous bastard must’ve been texting him. Feng Xin freezes in place as Mu Qing marches up to the both of them. The two men fully expect to get their teeth knocked out, so they’re shocked speechless when Mu Qing rips Pei Ming’s phone from his grip and throws it frightfully close to Feng Xin’s skull. Feng Xin, too stunned to think about catching the phone, winces as it lands on the pavement behind him with a resounding crack.

He should’ve known Pei Ming wouldn’t be able to keep his mouth shut. He’ll have to think of how to ruin Pei Ming’s life for this. He puts that plot on a shelf somewhere in his mind. He needs to figure out what to do with himself, first. He contemplates reverting to their old ways and tackling Feng Xin to the ground. Instead, he decides to bolt.

He not so silently speeds back into the bathroom and slams the door, loudly locking it behind him. He doesn’t bother being quiet anymore, only focusing on a way out. He can hear both Pei Ming and Feng Xin shouting from the hallway but pays it no mind. If Feng Xin is going to be here, it’s the last place he wants to be. He goes straight for the window.

At first glance, he wonders if he’ll actually be able to fit through it. He throws the window open and tries pulling himself up, having to use the toilet to give himself a boost which disgusts him to no end. Snowflakes blow in through the window as he shimmies outside. His feet hit the ground and without delay, he bolts for the forest.

The moment he is surrounded and flying by all those trees, he regrets all his decisions. The moment he sets foot outside he’s shaking from the cold. He doesn’t have any layers and the shirt Pei Ming gave him provides no warmth. The fierce winds have picked up significantly from earlier in the evening. There’s barely any sunlight left, making it difficult to navigate the unfamiliar terrain. Still, he runs for a long time, each step giving him the confidence to go even further.

His teeth chatter the entire time he is running, but he never stops as the movement is also keeping him warm. He doesn’t know where he is going, but he realizes he doesn’t care as long as it is away from Pei Ming and Feng Xin and all his problems.

The snow crunches under his boots— the only part of his attire adequate for the environment. The pine trees aren’t dense, but they aren’t sparse either. If someone is looking for him, they won’t be able to see him, but it’s easy enough to run through. He weaves through and around the trees.

His hair flows loosely behind him, and he hates that he couldn’t put it back into its usual style before he left. That means his loose hair now has pine needles and other various debris caught in it from running so long. His shirt sleeve keeps catching on the pine needles making him look even dirtier and disheveled. He doesn’t know exactly how long it has been since he left, but it must have been a while by now.

Maybe if I run long enough, I can find a road. Then, I’ll hitchhike with some stranger who will take me to a small town where no one knows me, and I’ll start a new identity. Or they’ll murder me. Either way, I think I win.

Just as he was thinking of possible places to go, he hears a branch snap. He twirls around to see what’s approaching him. The sun has already set, and the snowfall has increased dramatically making his visibility limited to only a few feet. The only source of light is the moon scarcely illuminating the area. He backs away slowly at first but gains speed as he realizes Feng Xin has probably chased after him.

He’s about to turn around and take off when his foot catches on something. There’s a protruding root from a pine tree that had been camouflaged by snow, making his body twist into an awkward stumble toward the ground. Mu Qing sees what’s waiting for him at the end of this fall and with his quick reflexes he’s able to grab onto the nearest branch.

Unfortunately, his rotten luck continues because the sizable branch he grabs broke the second he touches it. He yelps as he falls and falls and falls, hitting something hard that certainly isn’t snow. Following the fall, there are several severe cracks when he lands. He can’t tell if the cracks came from him or something underneath him, and he’s not sure he wants to know.

His breaths are coming in short pants as he pries his eyes open to see the situation around him. The root he tripped on is well above him now. Only a few feet beyond the root there had been a drop off. He should’ve been able to avoid it, but with the low visibility and his panicked state, he wasn’t thinking clearly. He was too worried about the possibility of Feng Xin finding him. What the hell is wrong with him? Why does he keep acting this way?

He wants to scream these questions to the sky and hope for an answer. Instead, he screams in pain, or he would have if the fall had left any air in him. He had landed on a combination of more roots and jagged rocks. He winces as he moves to sit up, looking himself over.

It turns out, the rocks haven’t injured his upper body too badly. There are a few bumps and scrapes on his arms but there isn’t much more than aching in his torso. Although his head is pounding and his vision is slightly blurry, most of the anguish is radiating from his lower half.

In his daze he can’t really see his legs clearly, so he tries to move them closer. His right leg comes into view looking and feeling unscathed. Alternatively, his left leg won’t move. It’s stuck.

He starts to panic more and leans forward to get a better look. The sight before him makes him involuntarily release a small whimper. The branch he grabbed as he was falling is firmly crushing his shinbone. At least that explains the intense pain. For several moments, he can only stare at the situation in disbelief. When he snaps out of it, he instantly rips the branch off his leg to inspect the damage.

He looks over the leg but can’t tell the exact damage because his pants are still mostly intact. There’s a bit of blood seeping through the fabric but he ignores it, deciding he’s probably fine. He moves to stand up which makes the searing pain in his left leg extremely obvious. In response, he balances all his weight on his right leg, which is still painful, but bearable. He tries to take a step and instantly hits the ground again. From that, he determines his left leg is definitely broken.

He lies there for an undetermined amount of time just watching the falling snow flutter down around him. His hair splayed out on the snow, tangled and messy. He can feel a few of the deeper cuts on his arms dripping blood on his third shirt of the day. He feels the same sensation on his face and reaches up to feel his cheek. Sure enough, there’s a thin cut on his face dripping small droplets of blood. How the hell is he going to get out of this? He could just let himself die right here and now. Surely, he’ll either bleed out or starve to death soon enough. An image flashes in his mind of Feng Xin searching frantically for him, only to find his dead body down here.

He pulls his phone out of his pocket holding his breath as he hopes it’ll turn on. It gained some cracks from the fall which annoys him immensely since he has always kept it pristine. However, that didn’t matter right now because what actually froze his brain was seeing Feng Xin’s contact in his phone. The picture he chose for his profile is one of them together at a restaurant Feng Xin had dragged him to. It took an hour of convincing and a box of pastries from his favorite bakery, but Mu Qing eventually allowed himself to be dragged to the car.

During their dinner, Feng Xin had stolen his phone and started taking random photos. This one was his favorite. It consisted of Feng Xin trying to take a selfie while Mu Qing was trying to reach for his phone back in the background. Mu Qing was obviously annoyed at the time, but now the picture just makes him chuckle.

The camera was way too close to Feng Xin’s face, and it cut out his chin. With the camera being so close you could see all the fine detail of his face. Feng Xin’s goofy smile and the lighting illuminating his caramel skin are the most adorable things in the world to him. He would never say that out loud and he wouldn’t tell Feng Xin to his face that he had a great time that night, either.

He sighs in frustration, continuing to stare at Feng Xin’s contact for several minutes. He feels like he might start bawling, but tells himself that it’s just the pain in his leg starting to set in. In the end, he wasn’t desperate enough to do it, yet. He shoves his phone back into his pocket and, with some difficulty, hoists himself into a sitting position. He looks around trying to get a bearing on his surroundings. He still isn’t quite sure where he is, but he is able to form more of a plan.

He wipes the moisture from his eyes that didn’t have a chance to fall. He can’t go back because the drop off is too steep. There’s probably a way back up somewhere, but he understands he doesn’t know the area well enough to be able to find it. So, he can only push forward now. He turns around and assesses the terrain. The trees are more densely packed together, and the ground is exponentially flatter. He attempts to stand up again flinching at the excruciating pain of every movement. He’s able to balance on his right leg and hop a few feet to the nearest tree. Using it as support he looks up and sees something promising in the distance. A road.

It’s still a large distance away when you consider his circumstances, but it gives him hope that at the very least he might be able to find an appropriate place to sit. He carefully begins to hop in the direction of the road using each tree in his path as a crutch. He has to pause a few times to catch his breath from the pain, but he pushes through it.

Once he makes it to the road, he’s tremendously disappointed. He looks in both directions and sees absolutely nothing. No buildings, no cars, and nothing promising in sight. The only thing near the road is a snow-covered, metal bench. He groans out of pained frustration.

Of course, the only place to sit would be cold and uninviting. The only exciting element to see is a streetlight next to the bench creating a friendly glow. He’s so ecstatic to be able to see again he forgives the bench for being uncomfortable and begins brushing the snow off.

He holds his breath trying to delicately lower himself while being mindful of his leg. He exhales in relief as he’s finally able to relax for the first time in hours. Although that means all the aches in his body become exponentially more prevalent.

He is so cold his fingertips are red and cracked. The cold steel of the bench only makes his freezing state worse. He tries to take deep breaths to calm down so he can contemplate what to do but the harsh, cold air burns his lungs.

He doesn’t want to be here anymore. He wants to go home to the warmth of his bed. He wants to steal Feng Xin’s weighted blanket and turn on his own heated blanket to accompany it. He wants to curl up and sleep for twelve hours if he can. The thoughts make him shiver more violently as he’s berated by the wind and snow.

He feels like he’s on the verge of tears once again. He can’t possibly make it back to Pei Ming’s place with the distance he traveled and the fact that he can barely walk now. The wind blows rustling his pants and he lurches forward as pain shoots through his leg. Thinking he might vomit he takes a moment to steady himself.

He can’t stand this anymore. His urge to go home is overpowering the embarrassment that is making him want to avoid home. He whips his phone out again. Xie Lian is away. His mother could never make it out here in her condition. He’s pretty sure he smashed Pei Ming’s phone beyond repair earlier. Plus, he would just send Feng Xin to get him anyway. So, looking through his contacts, he’s stuck staring at that absurdly adorable goofy grin a second time.

However, this time he clicks the call icon, and it doesn’t even make it through the first ring before the call is answered. Feng Xin doesn’t waste a second beginning to rant in his ear, “Mu Qing? Fuck, it’s been over an hour! Are you alright? Where are you? You know you’re fucking unbelievable running away like that. When we finally got the fucking bathroom door unlocked and I saw that open window I was so livid Pei Ming thought I was going to have a fucking heart attack from the stress. Why did you have to fucking run again? And you smashed his fucking phone? What the hell is wrong with you? Shit, I just wanted to talk. Is that so hard? Mu Qing, why do you always— “

“Feng Xin,” Mu Qing tried not to put much emotion behind it, but he can hear his voice crack at the end and Feng Xin halts his rant instantaneously.

There must be something in his voice, maybe a desperation he wasn’t aware of because Feng Xin wastes no time replying urgently, “Where are you?”

After a beat of silence, Mu Qing replies quietly, “I don’t know.”

He tries to suppress a groan of pain, but a small grunt sound still manages to slip out. Feng Xin doesn’t seem to notice as he continues panicking, “What’s around you? Are you still in the forest?”

Mu Qing tries to fight his wobbling lip as he chokes out, “No, I’m sitting on a metal bench by a road and—” He cuts himself off before he lets out a sob. He was going to tell him about his leg but the thought of it overwhelms him with a sudden urge to cry. He feels so incredibly pathetic.

“A metal bench…” Feng Xin repeats reflectively. He seems to have an epiphany as he shouts, “Oh, fuck! I know where you are! I’m not that far, so just stay there.”

He can hear Feng Xin move on the other end of the line. It sounds like he’s running and only serves to make the pressure behind Mu Qing’s eyes grow. Feng Xin starts to say something, but Mu Qing has no idea what it is as he hangs up. If he’s about to start crying, he refuses to let Feng Xin hear it. He’s sure he’ll get an earful about it later, but he can’t seem to care right now. He’s not angry at all anymore, but he is embarrassed and nervous that Feng Xin will still be angry with him. He’s not sure he’ll be able to survive Feng Xin yelling at him right now.

He rubs his ice-cold hands over his face trying to calm down. He picks a spot on the ground and stares at it. He thinks of warm fireplaces and fuzzy blankets. He thinks of a warm summer breeze while lying on scorching white sand. He thinks of tan, calloused hands and the furnace attached to them. He shakes his head to bring himself back to reality as he hears footsteps approaching.

“Mu Qing!” Feng Xin yells as he comes barreling out of the forest. He’s panting profusely and is swiveling his head in every direction looking for him. He turns towards the bench and the look on his face makes something inside Mu Qing crack. He looks pained and scared at the same time. His face is pinched with worry and the tips of his ears and nose are flushed from the temperature.

Mu Qing made him look like that. As much as he wants to be excited about the fact that Feng Xin cares so much, he knows Feng Xin would do this for anyone because that’s just the kind of person he is. He instinctively looks down at his hands to hide from the guilt of making him so upset, missing the relief that washes over Feng Xin’s face upon seeing his figure slouching on the bench.

Feng Xin charges up to him still out of breath and plops down on the bench next to him. He immediately turns to Mu Qing to ask, “Are you fucking hurt?! I saw a couple of drops of blood on my way here...”

Feng Xin trails off at the end as he looks Mu Qing up and down seeing his face and arms. He fixates on the cut on Mu Qing’s cheeks and slowly lifts his hand brush across it. It turns into more of a caress as he cups Mu Qing’s cheek to get a better look at the cut. Feng Xin removes his hand and Mu Qing misses the warmth as soon as it’s gone.

He moves on to grab Mu Qing’s arms and examine the rips in his shirt that expose the cuts on his arms. During the process, he can’t tell what Feng Xin is thinking and only hears him grumble, “Can’t believe you fucking hung up on me… and in this state, too.”

Feng Xin starts wiping at the cuts that are still bleeding, holding his sleeve to the lacerations to try and soak up the blood. Seeing so much of his own blood soaking into Feng Xin’s sleeve makes his heart pound and he has to look away from it. There was a lot more of the red liquid than he expected.

“It’s just a few scrapes,” Mu Qing mumbles pulling his arms away. That’s when he notices what Feng Xin is carrying. He has a navy blue jacket and a big, black fur coat in his arms. Mu Qing’s freezing body is almost drooling at the sight.

“Right, well not much we can—,” Feng Xin halts whatever he was going to say as he notices what Mu Qing is looking at. “Shit, you must be fucking freezing by now.”

Feng Xin takes the jacket and maneuvers it around his shoulders. He somehow manages to get his arms through the arm holes without aggravating Mu Qing’s cuts, and Mu Qing gasps as Feng Xin zips it up as well. He wasn’t expecting that, and Feng Xin did it too quickly for him to stop it. He glares at Feng Xin, but the man doesn’t notice as he starts unfolding the coat. The jacket he has on, he realizes, is Feng Xin’s. Even though they’re the same height, the jacket is still too big on him. The height is right, but the shoulders and chest are broader.

However, the coat Feng Xin is currently fiddling with is clearly a woman’s coat. He narrows his eyes questioningly as he inquires, “Who’s coat is that?”

“Mine?” Feng Xin says sounding hesitant and unsure. He’s obviously lying and doing it badly.

Mu Qing leans away from the mysterious coat that could very well be from a mysterious woman Feng Xin is sleeping with and states, “I won’t wear it unless you tell me where it’s really from.”

“Look, you really don’t want to fucking know,” Feng Xin tries to persuade him, but Mu Qing doesn’t budge on his stance. Feng Xin sighs in resignation and informs him of the coat’s origins, “It’s from Pei Ming’s place. Someone… left it behind.”

Mu Qing shivers knowing the only reason a woman’s coat would be at Pei Ming’s house. Feng Xin was right he didn’t want to know that. Feng Xin looks him up and down like he’s trying to gauge if he’s about to be hit. Fortunately for him, Mu Qing really doesn’t have the energy for that right now. Realizing he’s safe Feng Xin relaxes and continues, “It doesn’t matter because I’m making you put this fucking thing on. You’ve been shivering this whole fucking time so stand up so I can put it on you properly.”

Feng Xin doesn’t wait for any kind of response before grabbing his frigid, cracked hands and pulling him up to a standing position. The comfort of Feng Xin’s warm hands is quickly replaced by the sharp pain in his leg. Mu Qing doesn’t have time to balance and stumbles onto his left leg, which immediately buckles under the weight.

He inhales sharply and squeezes his eyes shut as he hurdles toward the ground. Except he doesn’t feel the chilling wetness of the snow. As his eyes flutter open, he’s instantly hit with Feng Xin's wide eyes filled with worry. Feng Xin is holding his waist in a tight grip. He’s snug against the other man’s solid chest. He hopes Feng Xin can’t feel the spike in his heart rate and the stutter in his breath.

Their closeness doesn’t last long as Feng Xin gingerly positions him back onto the bench and kneels on the frost in front of him. When he looks up at Mu Qing, the worry is still visible but more in the background as rage takes over with the pinch in his brows. He’s clearly trying to hold back his frustration as he grits out, “Mu Qing, is something wrong with your fucking legs?”

He looks at Mu Qing expectantly like he’s waiting for a response, but Mu Qing, being the stubborn bastard he is, just turns his head to the side to avoid the piercing gaze and crosses his arms over his chest. Truly he can’t bear to look at Feng Xin anymore. All his rage from earlier in the evening has dissipated, leaving him burning with shame and humiliation. He’s incredibly embarrassed by all his actions and words and even more embarrassed that Feng Xin had to witness it. Feng Xin takes a deep breath to calm his agitation and says, “Can you at least tell me right, left, or both?”

Mu Qing makes a quick glance at him and sees the anger has vanished, replaced by something softer. He continues to stare off to the side as he reluctantly lifts a hand to point at his left leg. Feng Xin wastes no time rolling his pant leg up to assess the damage. Mu Qing still isn’t looking at him, but he starts to worry his lower lip as he hears a sharp gasp followed by a loud, “Fuck!”

He can feel Feng Xin’s eyes on him, but he can’t tell what he’s looking for. Then, Feng Xin gets up and walks away from him. He starts to internally panic, thinking Feng Xin might finally be giving up on him. He snaps his head in the direction Feng Xin is going. He’s just far enough away that Mu Qing wouldn’t be able to reach him with the way his leg is right now. Mu Qing frowns deeply watching Feng Xin’s back retreating from him. That is until he realizes Feng Xin is talking to someone on his phone.

His first assumption is that he’s calling Pei Ming to come get them, but he’s certain Pei Ming won’t be able to use his shattered phone for a while. He can’t quite make out what Feng Xin is saying and he’s becoming more nervous by the second. At this point, he really just wants to go home. The pain radiating from his leg pries his attention away.

Since his broken leg has been exposed for the first time, he leans forward to see what could possibly be so bad about it. He catches one glimpse and lets out an intense gasp before turning his head away again. The peep he took was brief and his brain only focused on one aspect of what he saw. The bone is visible.

He fidgets with his hands which have begun to bleed a little from dryness while waiting for Feng Xin to sit next to him again. Unexpectedly, Feng Xin doesn’t sit down. He grabs Mu Qing by his armpits and lifts him off the bench. Feng Xin is careful not to put any pressure on his legs.

He adjusts Mu Qing so he’s holding him by the waist and begins to wrap the coat around his shoulders. Mu Qing absent-mindedly admires how easily Feng Xin is handling and lifting all his weight while simultaneously trying to distract himself from how close the two of them are. He lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding as he is gently lowered back to the bench. Feng Xin moves to button the coat like he zipped the jacket, but Mu Qing slaps his hand away and grumbles, “I can do it myself.”

It turns out he can’t do it himself. His hands are cracked, dry, and now bleeding from the frigid air. He attempts the first button with shaky, cherry red hands, but he can’t even grip the button because his hands are so stiff. After a full minute of trying and failing, he hangs his head in defeat and resigns to having an unbuttoned coat. He’s honestly too exhausted to care right now. Feng Xin watches this whole sequence of events with a “Seriously? Just let me help you” look on his face.

After seeing Mu Qing's resignation, Feng Xin reaches out again to button up the coat. This time Mu Qing doesn’t stop him. He sighs, still looking down, watching Feng Xin work. Feng Xin works fast, and the coat is buttoned in no time. Mu Qing is finally starting to warm up a bit. He still yearns to be inside with a heater, but for now, this will do. However, the layers aren’t helping his hands which seem to be getting redder every time he looks at them. He’s nervous they’re going to start turning purple soon.

Feng Xin seems to realize this at the same time and grabs Mu Qing’s hands in his own. Mu Qing can’t help but gasp. Firstly, at how warm they are even though Feng Xin has been out here almost as long as he has. And secondly, that Feng Xin is touching him. They rarely touch and even then, he can’t remember the last time he had skin-on-skin contact with anyone, let alone Feng Xin.

The touch forces him to turn his torso in Feng Xin’s direction and he proceeds to look anywhere but his face. In response, Feng Xin pulls his hands closer until they’re on his broad chest. Feng Xin rubs his calloused hands on Mu Qing’s soft hands to keep warming them up and with the added warmth of the man’s chest his hands are starting to regain feeling, but Mu Qing still won’t look up. Mu Qing settles for staring at his own lap out of both fatigue and embarrassment. Feng Xin tugs him in even closer while leaning forward until Mu Qing’s head is almost pressed against his chest with his hands. Feng Xin seems to be fed up with his antics and sounds defeated as he whispers, “Why won’t you look at me?”

“M’embarrased,” Mu Qing murmurs too tired to fight anymore. Now that he’s not shivering and running to keep warm, he realizes how exhausted he is. His head is starting to loll, and he gives up, letting it fall onto Feng Xin’s shoulder. At first, Feng Xin tenses at the contact but soon relaxes into the touch. He lets go of one of Mu Qing’s hands so he can snake his arm around the man’s back. Feng Xin pulls him firmly against him, so their chests are brushing against each other. When Mu Qing leans into the touch, Feng Xin takes it as approval for more and releases his other hand to wrap Mu Qing in a tight embrace, crushing his hands between them to keep them warm.

Mu Qing takes in a shaky breath to mumble meekly, “…sorry…”

Feng Xin responds immediately with, “Don’t be. I’m not fucking mad.”

Why? Why isn’t he mad? He should be. After the way I treated him. After the things I said and did, he should hate me. He shouldn’t be chasing after me and holding me like I might break. He should’ve left me out here to freeze. I deserve it. I don’t understand.

These thoughts overwhelm him, and he feels moisture collecting in the corners of his eyes. The first tear slips silently down his cheek and onto Feng Xin’s neck followed by another. Feng Xin must feel the droplets hit his skin as he says hesitantly, “Mu Qing? Are you…”

He trails off at the end as Mu Qing’s breathing becomes erratic. He can’t hold it in anymore and lets out a full on sob into the crook of Feng Xin’s neck. Feng Xin’s grip on him tightens as he starts rubbing his back in soothing circular motions. In between sobs, he’s able to croak out another small, “…sorry.”

Feng Xin removes a hand from his back to stroke through his hair. He’s clearly nervous as he starts twisting pieces of Mu Qing’s hair around his fingers. “Qing-er, stop. Seriously, I’m not upset.”

“Why?!” Mu Qing wails, voice cracking in the middle as he raises his head slightly to meet Feng Xin’s eyes. He’s so taken aback by the fact that Feng Xin isn’t filled to the brim with rage that he can’t even process the nickname. The sudden eye contact makes Feng Xin look uncomfortable with his eyes darting around refusing to meet Mu Qing’s eyes.

“Because um well—,” he stumbles over himself and ultimately decides to change the subject, “Are you in a lot of pain? Is that why you’re crying? I have a water bottle in my pocket if you want some.”

Mu Qing shakes his head and sighs dropping back down to rest on Feng Xin’s shoulder. All of his limbs ache with a tiredness he’s never felt before and, at this point, he can only think of one thing. His sniffles as his eyelids start to droop and he whispers tiredly, “I want to go home.”

Feng Xin lays his head on top of Mu Qing’s, inhaling the scent of his lilac shampoo. Feng Xin whispers something above his head but he’s too tired to listen anymore. He briefly closes his eyes and only opens them again when he hears sirens approaching them. He vaguely remembers asking Feng Xin if he called them and then scolding him because they can’t afford it. Feng Xin only responds with, “Well, if you looked at your fucking leg you’d understand.”

The next thing he knew he was being lifted into an ambulance with Feng Xin by his side the entire time.