Chapter Text
The moon is hidden by the clouds tonight.
A constant stream of cold air invades the room through the partially open window.
He sits on the edge of the small bed, naked, enjoying the cool breeze on his heated skin.
He takes a long drag from his cigarette, cheeks hollowing, before pulling it away from his mouth, inhaling deeply. His thumb lightly scratches the side of his face while he carefully holds the cigarette between index and middle finger.
He tilts his face upwards, opens his mouth - jaw moving - blows out the smoke in little rings that grow bigger while they float away before disappearing completely.
Behind him, Meiying is stirring, shifting around, her inhales and exhales are even again. She always needs longer than him to come down.
Her arm is curling around his body, long fingers glide over his chest where the skin is still sticky from the sweat.
Another touch on his hip, the mouth follows soon, he expected that already, lips pressing between his shoulder blades, her small breasts flush against his back.
Guanshan closes his eyes for a moment, his free hand coming to lay on top of hers, squeezing gently before letting go again.
"Let me have a pull."
His upper body leans to the side, he offers her the cigarette. The cheap metal bangles around her wrist give a faint jingling sound as she reaches out to take it and lies back down on her stomach, elbows digging into the worn out mattress as she props herself up to smoke.
Guanshan turns around, eyes wandering over her body in the darkness. He can only see the shape of her, the basic outline, shadows and more shadows. Though he doesn't need to see, he knows her well. Every curve and every valley, all her scars and birthmarks. He could draw a map with his eyes closed.
His fingertips touch the back of her knee. Meiying twitches slightly, puffs out smoke, the hint of a laugh escaping her throat.
Guanshan glides further up, along her thighs, inbetween, up and up, until he reaches the curves of her behind. His fingers slide between her cheeks where it's always warm and soft and welcoming, feeling the lingering wetness there, his semen still trickling out.
He leans down, plants a kiss onto her spine. She chuckles.
Later he lies next to her, on dirty sheets which don't even cover the whole mattress. They lie there, in their dried-up bodily fluids, a mess of tangled limbs and blankets.
Outside, the clouds give way to reveal a full moon.
—♦—
The constant gentle drumming of rain against the window proves to be the perfect canvas for yet another new song.
He feels unusually inspired today. Sheets of paper spread around him on the dirty carpet, pen in his mouth, guitar in his lap. The two white letters are already fading on the red paint, the surface of the instrument is scratched and galled from excessive use over the past few years.
He has a small gig tonight. The opening of a new bar near the redlight district. He's just one of five artists given half an hour each. One of many, part of the pabulum, a background noise for people to get drunk to.
Guanshan has long stopped fantasizing about getting discovered. Catching the eye of a producer in some miraculous way, getting a record deal, becoming famous... his songs on the radio, being played far and wide, ultimately catching his attention - wherever he may be right now, whatever he might do these days.
Those are nothing more than bittersweet daydreams, wishful thinking, some nice movie in his head to fall asleep to.
He puts the pen aside, adjusting the position of the guitar in his lap.
He begins to play, the fingers of his left hand pressing down the strings, his right strumming with an old pick.
After a few chords he starts singing. He sings of black hair and gray eyes, he sings of waiting for something, of crossing the line, of delusions and wanting to go somewhere.
At some point Meiying returns home. He doesn't stop while she hangs her coat and peels out of her work uniform. She steps closer. He can smell the fat from the frying pan, he can smell onions and pickles, sweat and more grease, and the fading scent of her deodorant.
She stands before him in her underwear, smiles, removes the hair clip and her black strands cascade over her narrow shoulders.
He looks up while playing the last chords.
The following silence is not uncomfortable.
"You look hot."
"I need to shower."
"Yeah, you do."
"Ass."
They both laugh and she sits beside him for a moment. "That sounded really nice. New song?"
He nods. "Should I play it tonight?"
"Absolutely. You still want me to come?"
"Of course."
She leans over to kiss him and throws her arms around his neck. "Hmm... I love you."
Instead of an answer, he puts away the guitar and picks her up, her legs wrapping around his waist. He walks them to the bathroom while she giggles.
—♦—
"How was last night?"
"Yeah, you know... the usual."
"So not good?"
"I didn't say that!"
Guanshan raises his arm when the waitress looks into their direction for a second. She nods and starts making her way over.
Zhengxi considers him for a moment and Guanshan raises an eyebrow.
"I don't know what you want me to say, man. It was nothing special, nobody came to shake my hand, okay. I was the second to last and all guests were drunk already, there was more yelling going on than listening."
Zhengxi sighs and puts down the menu card. "It's not like you make an actual effort to get yourself out there either..."
"True", Guanshan muses and side-eyes the waitress who's standing next to their booth now. "What matters though, is that envelope I got by the end of the night. Dinner's on me today."
"You guys ready to order?", she asks and impatiently taps her pen against the notepad in a fast-paced rhythm. "I can come back in a minute if you still need time to—"
"Coke", Guanshan interrupts her and glances at the menu one more time. "I take the double cheeseburger with fries. No ketchup!"
He looks up to meet Zhengxi's eyes. He can see the silent accusation in them. 'Be nicer to her' is the message they convey. Guanshan rolls his eyes. He knows. He's like her, born to serve people, and so is Meiying. A big army of underpaid workers, faking a smile, trying to please strangers. Until they have a bad day and snap.
Wordlessly he gestures into his direction, prompting him to fucking finally place an order.
And so Zhengxi does, his voice is calm and friendly. He offers her a smile which she doesn't return.
The girl picks up the menus and places them back into the holder by the window before she walks away.
They both lean back at the same time, stretching their legs, bumping into each other under the table.
Guanshan looks around the small diner, silently observing the other guests until Zhengxi nudges him with his knee.
"Hey, are you listening?"
"What?"
"I said, how are things with Meiying? I haven't seen her in a while. Qiaolian keeps asking about her."
Guanshan shrugs. "Good, yeah. Nothing out of the ordinary."
The other one frowns and crosses his arms in front of his chest. "Come on. Tell me what's going on. You're in such a mood today."
Guanshan rubs over his face in an angry manner, pinching the bridge of his nose. There is nothing going on. Aside from his usual doubts of course. But that is something he can't talk about with anybody. Sometimes not even with himself. Denial can be bliss.
However, lately he has found it difficult to ignore certain things. But he should. He knows he needs to. It's been two years for fuck's sake. More than that even. Time to move the fuck on!
Yet, Zhengxi reads him like an open book. He was always good at this shit. Reading people, reading situations, moods... anything really.
"You shouldn't be with her", he says quietly and Guanshan opens his mouth to tell him to mind his own damn business when the waitress returns and places two coasters in front of them before putting down their drinks.
"Your food will be ready soon."
"Thank you."
As soon as she's gone, Guanshan takes a big swig from his coke and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, then pointing his finger at Zhengxi.
He warns him: "Stay out of that", but his friend is not impressed. Or intimidated for that matter. Instead he goes on.
"Can you deny that you're just using her for her looks?"
"Excuse me?!"
Zhengxi gives him a look full of incomprehension. "Guanshan. She looks exactly like He Tian."
He gasps, acts exasperated even though he knows, deep down he knows - it's the truth.
"Alright, first of all, fuck you! Then, second of all, Meiying is a girl, okay? How can a chick look like a guy? I mean, her long hair and—"
"If He Tian were a girl, he'd look like her. Has she seen a picture of him? She'd be surprised, thinking he must be her brother, separated at birth."
"Bullshit", Guanshan mumbles and stares down at his drink, moving it around on the square coaster.
She does look like a female version of him. He always knew. It's what got him interested in the first place. There is no way in hell he'd ever admit that in front of anyone though.
Zhengxi unfolds his arms and leans forward on the table. "It's not fair towards her."
"Oh yeah?", Guanshan snaps. "You want me to point out how your controlling bitch of a girlfriend is the exact opposite of Jian Yi?! In any way possible? So that you can tell yourself you're not missing him and nothing is even reminding you of him and all is fine and you can play house with her, acting like a fucking happy family."
The other one's eyes widen in surprise, then narrow with disappointment. "Wow..."
Guanshan shakes his head. "Don't start with me, Zhan Zhengxi. If you live in a glass house, don't throw stones."
Zhengxi doesn't say anything after that.
And when the food comes, they eat in silence.
—♦—
They're shouting.
Words being tossed back and forth, meant to hurt, meant to leave marks on each other's souls. Something to remember even when this is long over.
He wants to strangle her and claws at his own hair to feel something else. The physical pain - a welcoming distraction from his conflicting emotions.
Guanshan knows what she wants. And he knows what he can't give her. More than a year of trying to mask the truth, trying to fake something that isn't there - it's slowly coming to an end. Unstoppable and undeniably inevitable. He has brought them to this point. Carefully trying to walk over the abyss, almost tripping, threatening to slide off the makeshift bridge. His steps are not as steady as they used to be. It's clearly not working anymore. There's the end of the log, he has to take the leap, can't go back.
Back then, he desperately tried to love her —he really did, she deserves nothing less— but he's not capable of doing so, can't even pretend to try anymore. He lost his heart in middle school and a certain someone forgot to hand it back. He has looked for it for God knows how long, thought that maybe, just maybe, it was merely misplaced.
But in the end he had to face the harsh truth: It was gone. Lost forever. There's a He-Tian-shaped hole in his chest now and nothing can fill it back up - not that he hasn't tried ardently. He did. He tried so many things... Yet no amount of alcohol, sex, drugs, cigarettes, love songs or broken promises is able to fill the void.
Where there's no heart, there's no love.
She knows. She has known for a long time now. It was just hard to accept.
That night he fucks her on the cold, hard kitchen floor. Sand, ashes, dust and dirt, all sorts of nasty shit brought in from the outside - it clings to their naked bodies, making him feel even more filthy than usual.
He can't go on like this, they can't go on like this. This thing - whatever they have - it has to stop. It needs to end. It must be cance—
...it can't—
...it—
He comes in a violent burst. Eyes squeezed shut so hard he can see colorful spots exploding all around him, her nails claw into the soft flesh of his upper arms, their moans echoing from the walls.
He's wheezing hard, trying to control his breathing. Her frail body is shaking underneath him, shuddering with post-orgasmic aftershocks.
It needs to end.
Yet afterwards, they go on as if nothing had happened earlier.
Like always.
Living a lie, living in denial. It's easy this way, lazy and comfortable. The occasional outbursts - the price they're both willing to pay.
~to be continued