Chapter Text
Hai Yunfan was in a terrible mood and it was only getting worse. Poor Wen Bao, to have been caught in his icy glare so many times over these past few days. And Wang Lu’s parents were so kind, he almost felt guilty about all the food they’d made for him that he didn’t eat. It wouldn’t help. It was clear that only one thing would be acceptable to him. That was the way Hai Yunfan was; once there was something he needed, it became the only thing that would do. Everything else annoyed—angered him. He needed only one thing to lift this bitterness. Wang Lu must wake up. But no matter what he or anyone tried, it simply would not happen. It had been three days.
Three of the most obnoxious, bitter days of his life, not to mention utterly defeating as none of Hai Yunfan’s medical knowledge made any difference. Taking care of sickness and injury was a topic covered in multiple classes he’d taken on the mountain—and passed with colors. While Wang Lu had undergone all those beatings for the Wuxiang Bones technique, Hai Yunfan had often been the one to treat him for bruises, sprains, and dislocations. But he hadn’t been the one in charge if ever his injuries were serious. If his training went wrong, fifth elder was quick to heal him. When Liuli Xian pounded him into a crater, Lingjian’s physicians had immediately taken him away, and Hai Yunfan’s only role was to sit alone without rest or food for the days and nights it took for his friend to wake up.
He was doing that now, of course, although Wen Bao and Wang Lu’s parents often tried to persuade him to take rest. At least this time, he could stay by his side while he waited. There had lately been a constant unspoken battle of wills between all of Wang Lu’s present loved ones vying for the position of watching over him, all trying to relieve one another of stress and worry. His mother had been there most often, talking to him as though he could hear. And maybe he could; none of them could say for sure. Hai Yunfan felt the brief twinge of a smile; he was familiar with Wang Lu’s passive ability to draw the love of others to himself. He wondered if Wang Lu knew it, too.
No, he decided. If he knew just how many people so deeply cared for him, he’d surely be uneasy with it. Wang Lu was a taught wire in that regard; he never dared touch things that were too genuine. Others may not see it, but Hai Yunfan was very acutely aware of Wang Lu’s aversion to…closeness. It was a strange conflict within his nature; Wang Lu was of course very comfortable with friendship and familiarity, prone to initiate physical touch. Casually. As soon as something became more than a carefree, meaningless, subconscious act, he would be sure to pull back. He was intelligent. He never gave away anything he wished not to disclose, and he was very good at it.
With a dismissive sigh to blow away these thoughts, Hai Yunfan rose from his seat at the table and walked around it to the bed where Wang Lu still lay, still and pallid, blankets pulled to his chest which moved so heavily that it annoyed Xiao-hai. Why was his breathing still so labored? Why wasn’t he able to do anything to improve Wang Lu’s condition? It wasn’t that he had no idea what to do. He wasn’t stupid; he was doing it right. It just wasn’t working.
Suppose that was to be expected. This wasn’t an ordinary bout of illness. His spirit itself had been damaged, and that was something with which he had no experience. Textbooks and exams were one thing, learning firsthand was another. In more ways than one, this wasn’t anything Xiao-hai had needed to contend with before. In his life, even, not just now—he’d never been in this situation. The second prince, youngest in his family, had never been so heavily responsible for a loved one’s wellbeing, or even seen one in such a condition. His father did once fall seriously ill. Servants and doctors restored him to health behind closed doors. Hai Yunfan never even saw him cough.
Wang Lu coughed in that very moment and Hai Yunfan froze, staring. His calculating eyes studied every inch of the other’s face—the pale skin, sunken eyes rimmed in grey, the sweat pearls on his brow. He saw the forehead draw together for a moment, and Wang Lu’s lip twitched upward in perhaps a wince. Hai Yunfan had to listen so carefully to hear past the drum of his own heartbeat in his ears. He must have stared for five minutes before resigning to the fact that, no, this was not going to be the moment when he would finally wake up.
Hai Yunfan sighed and felt his teeth grind together, a bitter look creeping into his eyes. ‘Do you always have to lead me on?’
His face softened immediately. It wasn’t his fault, entirely. For the first two days Hai Yunfan had blamed him, yes. He’d been angry that Wang Lu had been reckless again, been overconfident, that he’d volunteered for something he knew was dangerous. He thought so highly of his own abilities. Xiao-hai couldn’t call that arrogance, as it often turned out to be correct. That trait was something in his friend which he admired, yes, but it was also difficult not to get annoyed with. Wang Lu thought he could handle whatever challenge came his way. When it was true, Hai Yunfan praised him for his accomplishments. But, on the occasions when it wasn’t…
Xiao-hai closed his eyes. His hands, placed neatly on his knees, curled into anxious fists. “Wang-xiong,” he said firmly, eyes opening again. “You can’t hide from me by staying asleep. Wake up and face it.”
Wang Lu was as still as stone.
Alright. Enough. He could be angry with him once he was well again, but not before. He just couldn’t sustain it while looking down at his pale, stupid, vacant face. Hai Yunfan closed his eyes. 'Nevermind,' he wanted to say, 'I’m sorry. Please wake up.'
Hai Yunfan sat on the floor beside the bed, his back reclined against it as he stared at the ceiling and stroked the same strand of his own hair over and over between his finger and thumb. He was tired, but had little desire to sleep. Whenever Wang Lu was out of his sight, he felt a dread like creepvine winding between his ribs. It was, of course, ridiculous. He knew this was irrational, but it just felt like the moment he stepped out the door Wang Lu would…
Would what? What did he expect might happen? Of course not that. Elder Feng He wouldn’t have been that harsh. But. Wang Lu was good at hiding things, particularly vulnerability. Feng He may very well have thought he was holding back enough, enough not to… It felt like cold water spreading through his gut as the worst thought possible threatened to form. He wouldn’t let it. He thought instead about Wang Lu healthy and full of life. The day he passed the entire immortality conference for every competitor with one sword strike. The next morning when Hai Yunfan opened his door to head to class and found Wang Lu standing there with arms crossed, sporting brand new disciple robes and a smile to outshine gold.
Hai Yunfan had been surprised to see him that morning. He hadn't particularly planned for them to stay a team in the long term, after they got through the cultivation conference. When he first approached Wang Lu with the offer of mutual cooperation, he could not claim that it wasn’t a calculated move on his part. He knew that the boy was smart, capable, and had an ego that begged for someone to look good in front of. As long as Hai Yunfan could stroke that ego, he could benefit from Wang Lu’s capabilities. A calculated choice. A beneficial partnership.
How was he to know Wang Lu would turn out to be the best person he’d ever known? The kind of person to sink into quicksand to save someone he’d just met. To so readily sacrifice the chance for his own glory—something Hai Yunfan had at first thought he placed so much value in. The kind of person whose ego was not arrogance, whose boasting was not insecurity, whose vanity was not vain. One who could collect people’s love without wanting it.
It frightened Hai Yunfan, but it could never frighten him away. He was a traveler on his way through a vast and empty tundra who’d found a rare spot in the sunlight; it couldn’t hurt to rest there a while. Surely the sun would hardly notice when he eventually moved along. And it was convenient, wasn’t it—the way that Wang Lu was careful to keep others at a specific distance. He separated himself from the rest of the world with words like “protagonist” and “chosen one.” He shielded his thoughts, his most real self, kept all his connections casual. It was convenient that Wang Lu could continue to enjoy friendship with him, would continue to support him, but never become so far invested that they could not eventually separate cleanly. What they’d established together had changed from a partnership into a friendship, but it was still mutually beneficial. It was still…safe.
Xiao-hai was not safe anymore. The thought of this intangible warmth disappearing had become so awful and he didn’t have a clue how he’d let that happen. The longer he spent in the sunlight, the more he forgot that he had chosen a colder road. It was Wang Lu’s fault, right? With his ability to make anyone forget everything but the present moment. His stubbornness in supporting Hai Yunfan. His desire to know him, and his relentless determination in doing so. Xiao-hai had never planned on him finding out about his story and vow for revenge, let alone wanting to help with it. He never expected to be shouting into the sky while they pledged to stand by each other’s side throughout the ambitions of their very lives.
How had this happened? His load was already heavy enough; he’d decided a long time ago to carry nothing more with him. When, along the empty road, had he picked up something to lose?
Lost in these reveries, the passing hours ferried him deeper into the night. He must have fallen into—well, one couldn’t call it sleep, but certainly a state of unawareness. He only knew it when he was awoken. A sound at the window made his eyes snap in that direction, sharp and instant, only to find that the clasp had come undone in the wind and it had swung open. The chill night wind entered the room, sweeping past the sheer fabric of curtains and putting out the candle on the table. He looked over and saw Wang Lu shiver.
Practically leaping to his feet, he jerked the window closed, stopped short at the last second so that he wouldn’t slam it and make a loud noise. How long had it been open? He latched it shut and hurried back to the bedside. His right hand unfolded and reached out to gently rest the back of his fingers against Wang Lu’s forehead. Worry spiked as he realized the fever had worsened. Hai Yunfan scowled. How could he have dozed off? How negligent.
Reaching into the basin of water which sat on the floor, Hai Yunfan took a damp cloth in his hand and reached it over to gently dab at Wang Lu’s forehead, his cheeks, down his neck. He keenly felt the stubborn fever baking beneath the skin. He carefully passed the damp cloth over every inch of it. It was nothing, at first, but then he became aware of the…imtimacy, behind this. His face flushed red and he paused, suddenly uncomfortable.
Throughout their time on the mountain, this had surely been brewing for a while. Just the same way he hadn’t noticed himself becoming friends with Wang Lu, he hadn’t noticed the beginning of something…else. Some new feelings. Just like all of his feelings, he hadn’t acknowledged them until long after they appeared.
Surely that was Wang Lu’s fault, so casual, so oblivious, so unaware of the effect he had on Hai Yunfan with every little glance. Always putting his arm around his shoulders. Standing so close to him. Flirting. So much thoughtless flirting. Didn’t he know? Did he really think of everything as a joke?
Alright…don’t get mad at him now. He really hasn’t done anything this time. Hai Yunfan wet the cloth again and continued, trying to ignore the thought that nothing more than a few flimsy layers of fabric separated his fingers from Wang Lu’s bare skin. He paused at the collarbone, glanced at Wang Lu’s face again, made an executive decision. It couldn’t be helped, he assured himself. The fever had to go down.
His fingertips hooked around the collar of Wang Lu’s robe and his hand began to tremble. Calm down. It’s not indecent. It’s healthcare. He tugged at the thin white linen and barely dared to move it half an inch before stopping again. This isn’t taking advantage, is it? Hai Yunfan winced in sheepish discomfort. It isn’t like he’d never seen Wang Lu’s…body. He remembered that day the older boy had invited him to Wuxiang Peak and Hai Yunfan walked in to see him entirely in the bath. It still made his heart race to think of it now. But Wang Lu had thought nothing of it. If he were awake and watching Xiao-hai struggling with the idea of something as small as pulling his collar down a few inches, he would absolutely laugh at him. If the positions were reversed, he would not be having an internal crisis over something like this; he’d just do it. Hai Yunfan knew this for a fact, because he had already done it, because only Wang Lu could have been the one to pull Xiao-hai’s unconscious body out of the bathtub that day.
And that’s a whole other crisis he’d refused to ever think of, ever, again. Ever.
Hai Yunfan tsk’d sharply at himself and bit the bullet. He quickly pulled the white linen aside, not far, just enough to allow space for him to trace the cold cloth along his clavicle. He didn’t even look while he did it; out of respect, of embarrassment, in the name of consent? When he inevitably glanced downward and saw the upper curve of Wang Lu’s pectorals, he immediately shut his eyes and hastily replaced all of the fabric to cover him again. Hai Yunfan’s ears were practically burning. Hopefully, in raising his own temperature, Wang Lu’s would go down. He wet the cloth with fresh water and placed it on Wang Lu’s forehead, leaving it there for now.
He was about to go back to the table to collect himself and try to get his dizzy head back under control, when he heard Wang Lu speak.
“…hai,” came the weak exhale, a rasping sound carried on a shallow breath.
Hai Yunfan did not make a conscious decision to reach out and place his hand gently on Wang Lu’s chest, but it happened anyway. “…Wang-xiong?” The desperation in the call was timid and aching. His eyes flicked over his face. Is he waking up, or dreaming? Fine, either one would be fine, leagues better than this endless stillness with not so much as the twitch of a finger.
“Wang-xiong,” he tried again, daring to shake him gently.
Wang Lu’s face twinged again, like he was in pain, like he was confused and lost, and Hai Yunfan felt his own heart break because he knew where his friend was right now. He’d spent a lot of time there, himself. It had never even entered his mind that Wang Lu would ever be the one in this position. The older, more experienced boy was not ever the one to need help—always the one to give it, to take anyone he could under his wing, to lead the way through helpless situations. He was the one with solutions, solidity, strength. Hai Yunfan had been taken care of by him so many times. Finally, Wang Lu needed that kind of help from him.
“Wang-xiong. Can you hear me? …The situation has been resolved. Everyone is just waiting on you now. That’s all. And then everything will be settled. So, if you can,” he bit his lip as it trembled. “If you can, please do your best to wake up soon.”
Wang Lu stirred further, this time, his hand moved. “…Xiao…hai.”
His name. His name… “Yes?” he answered immediately. “…I’m here. What is it?” But no further answer came. The dismay he felt when the creases of in Wang Lu’s face began to smooth, when the tension in his limbs drained away, was crushing.
Hai Yunfan’s fingers stretched out, shaking, as his hand moved so slowly toward Wang Lu’s face. He cupped his cheek, the touch as light as frost, ready to fly away in a gust of wind. “Don’t,” he warned, nearly begged. “Don’t leave again.” Wang Lu, as he so often did, ignored him. Hai Yunfan’s face twisted as his teeth clenched, his breath hitching with boiled-over frustration. “Wang-xiong!” it wasn’t loud, but it was sharp, a command.
And Wang Lu opened his eyes.
In shock, almost, Hai Yunfan stared. Authority and bitterness fled from his chest and were replaced with disbelief. Had that actually worked?
Wang Lu’s half-lidded eyes were full of fog and fever. It took so long for them to focus, Xiao-hai was afraid they’d slip closed again. Wang Lu took in a deeper breath, releasing it with a shudder, and his head turned in Xiao-hai’s direction. Finally, his eyes regained a tiny glint of the light that they always held, and a smile stretched his dry lips as he croaked, “Are you seriously crying at my bedside?”
Hai Yunfan lurched backward, blinking very quickly as he withdrew his hand and grasped it with his other. “W-Wang-xiong,” he muttered, flustered, clearing his throat when his voice faltered. He conveyed a hint of frustration as he admonished, “It’s one thing to sleep for so long. It’s another to pretend you were sleeping even when you’re awake. Do you know how long I—”
The groggy Wang Lu was still sharp enough raise an inquisitive eyebrow.
“How long…everyone has been waiting for you?”
He smiled again, exhaling through his nose. Not even strong enough to laugh properly. “It can’t be that long,” he labored, his voice cracked like mud in a drought. He coughed, several times, and a twinge of pain returned to that spot between his eyebrows.
Xiao-hai leaned in close again, attentive and concerned. “What’s wrong?”
Wang Lu shook his head as he got the fit under control. “Nothing. Just…thirsty.”
Hai Yunfan quickly reached over to the table and got together a cup of water. He slid a hand beneath Wang Lu’s head, lifting it gently, the other holding the cup to his lips. “Here. Slowly.” Wang Lu did not go slowly, he drank like a dying man, and Xiao-hai had to take the cup away before he choked himself. He used his sleeve to dab the droplets that fell down Wang Lu’s chin, and then he found the other staring up at him with a strange expression.
“Xiao-hai.”
He pulled back his hand and pulled his bottom lip behind his teeth. “Yes?”
“It can’t be that long…right?”
Hai Yunfan wasn’t sure what to answer. Should he lie? It wouldn’t be viable though; he’d find out from Wen Bao or his parents. He knew that Wang Lu would not be thrilled to hear that he had spent the past three days being worried over. Not to mention the bruise that would come to his ego. “Well,” he began, thinking of a clever way to wind his way around this. “Three days isn’t long at all compared to a week, is it? That’s how much time most people need to recover from the same level of spiritual damage, so—”
“Ah!?” Wang Lu closed his eyes as his head rolled along the pillow, facing the ceiling as he heaved a half-sob. “How pathetic…”
Hai Yunfan offered him a softer glance. “Don’t say that,” he assured. “The Truth Sword is so powerful. It’s impressive that you managed to withstand it at your cultivation level.” He hesitated again. “How…do you feel?”
Wang Lu gave him a halfhearted glare, the one he often used to tell Xiao-hai that he was being ridiculous. “Of course I feel fine, Xiao-hai. Who are you asking that?”
To appease him, Hai Yunfan ducked his head and offered a false smile in return. Now that Wang Lu was awake, he carried with him that aura of deflection once again. All of those desperate feelings Hai Yunfan had held over the past three days, all the anxiety and painful concern, Wang Lu had woken up and chased them away with one smile. His presence meant that everything was alright. Things would go back to…well, back to the way they kept things.
Wang Lu poorly hid the difficulty he had in trying to pull himself upright. Hai Yunfan found it reflexive to reach out and support him, one hand on his back and the other grasping his bicep. He felt Wang Lu’s body shivering beneath his hands, the shaking of his muscles as they strained to support his own weight. Once sitting, Wang Lu raised a hand to his head and groaned.
“What?” Xiao-hai panicked, reclining him against the headboard. “Just…take it slow. If you feel dizzy, don’t force yourself.” Eyes shut, Wang Lu hummed a dismissal, pinching the bridge of his nose while he took deep breaths. He put on a weak smile and dropped a heavy hand onto Hai Yunfan’s shoulder. And then that hand moved to the back of his neck. Hai Yunfan stared at the other’s closed eyes like a convict at a noose. One more move and it was all over. And then Wang Lu’s thumb stroked tenderly along the curve of his jaw.
God.
What on earth was that. What was that. Why’d he do that? Was it meant to reassure him? To seek reassurance? …Something else? No, obviously, of course not, never. He was just overthinking a careless gesture once again. He knew Wang Lu well and knew that he wasn’t the type to seek any kind of comfort. To initiate anything, um, further. Right?
…Right?
Oh. Whatever. You know? Maybe it was the relief, the elation of having him back, maybe seeing his smile again was the last drop which broke a perilous surface tension. Whatever. Maybe he missed him too much for too long. Maybe he couldn’t bear the air without his voice in it and starved himself waiting for only him and now he was finally here. Whatever it was, Hai Yunfan could not care to hold it back. He released a noise that was not quite a sob—it was more breath than sound—and brokenly whispered his name.
“Wang Lu.” He reached up slowly and his hand settled over the other’s, warm and solid. Xiao-hai leaned closer, stole another inch, another two. He reached out, fingertips just touching the underside of Wang Lu’s chin, guiding his face to look his way. The other quickly opened his eyes and in them was surprise, wonder. Jaw shaking, Hai Yunfan smiled, and the smile was real. “You’re back.”
Wang Lu searched his face, and Xiao-hai could tell that inside his head he was assessing this situation, turning gears, examining puzzle pieces before he placed them together. Then crept into Wang Lu’s expression that all too familiar unease. The constant underlying uncertainty that had always kept him apart, wouldn’t let anyone get too close. The hint that he was about to backtrack—that something deep within him had been startled, a wild hare whose ears had lifted. There was no need to wonder what it was that he was so afraid of. Hai Yunfan feared it too.
He pulled away before Wang Lu could.
“Wait here,” he said, standing up, and Wang Lu’s eyes changed. Did he imagine the hint of disappointment he saw there? “Everyone has gone to sleep by now, but your mother left some food for you. I’ll go get it.”
Wang Lu grunted a confirmation, following with his eyes as Hai Yunfan turned away and crossed the room. He felt his stare on his back the whole way, and made sure to look at the ground while he shut the sliding doors.
Once outside, he felt tremors wrack his body, and he had to grasp his chest as he took several shaking breaths to steady himself. What was he about to do? What did Wang Lu think he was about to do? Hold his face and cry and tell him how…how scared he was? How hard he had tried for three days not to allow himself to think about the possibility that Wang Lu wouldn’t wake up—that he would have to find some way to go on living in a world without him. How impossible that would have been.
And just why couldn’t he tell him all of that? Wang Lu wasn’t the only one afraid of…of changing something that couldn’t be changed back.
With a deep huff, he wiped his eyes and straightened his robes and flung his chin up. This was ridiculous. Wang Lu probably already forgot it. Back to the task at hand. He’d had no food for three days; Xiao-hai shouldn’t make him wait another few minutes.
In the kitchen while he busied himself, he thought over his next steps. It would take some careful navigation. He…wasn’t very good at this. That day of the Marrow Soak, when he had woken up with Wang Lu sitting over him, the other had been so eagerly attentive and supportive. Listening intelligently. Instantly proposing solutions. It was the first time he’d seen Wang Lu…like that. Xiao-hai knew that he must have scared him. He should have felt guilty about that. But he had only felt warmed. He’d confided in Wang Lu without hesitation. He’d been glad to be taken care of.
Wang Lu would not feel that way. He didn’t like needing taken care of, he liked having everything under control. He thrived on his ability to solve the problems of others. As much as Hai Yunfan wanted now to return the past comforts Wang Lu had so often given him, he knew that the other wouldn’t want it. Not in the same fashion, anyway. Such genuine expressions made him squirm. Hai Yunfan would have to find another way to care for him now—without touching his ego.
Hai Yunfan loaded a tray full of food and tea as well as the medicinal brew that Misus Lu had instructed was to be given if her son woke up. Carrying it carefully, he returned to the room to find Wang Lu laying sideways in bed, his eyes closed, head propped up on his hand. He looked totally carefree and at ease. Like nothing had happened at all. Yes. Just as Xiao-hai thought.
He placed the tray on the table and approached almost tentatively. With one finger he softly tapped his shoulder. “Wang-xiong?”
Wang Lu opened one eye. “Hn?”
“Come and eat something. Your mother said to give you this medicine, too, but you need to eat before you take it.”
Wang Lu’s face fell, weighed down with what looked like guilt, at the mention of his mother. He nodded and started to get up, and Xiao-hai reached for his arm to help him. The other gave him a glance and then shook his head with a tsk. “Aiyah, really, Xiao-hai. I don’t need any help standing up, you know. Hmm, well—I suppose you’ve been waiting for me all this time feeling so scared and helpless. I ought to let you feel helpful now.”
Hai Yunfan quietly scoffed. “Yes, well. Wang-xiong will just have to bear with my weakness for now.” He held onto Wang Lu’s arm and wrapped the other around his shoulder, guiding him from the bed. Wang Lu’s steps were shaky and fell in uneven places. He lowered him down onto the mat, then went to retrieve his outer robes from where they’d been neatly folded. As Wang Lu picked up a bowl, he felt warm clothing being draped around his shoulders. Hai Yunfan turned away to re-lighting the candle and did not notice the lingering stare he received.
“Take it slow, but eat as much as you can,” he reminded. “It will take some time to build your strength back up.”
Staring into the bowl, Wang Lu hesitated, glancing up and then back down again. He cleared his throat. “Hey—Xiao-hai. I hope you know I wasn’t pretending to be asleep. I didn’t really mean to make fun of you. So…” he laughed, looking briefly away before offering a tight smile. “Forget what I said. I’m sorry I was out so long.”
Hai Yunfan stared into the candle, his fingers absently stroking a lock of his hair. He cast a steely glance toward Wang Lu. It broke very quickly into a poorly repressed dry smile. “Wang-xiong will say anything to get out of trouble,” he muttered coyly, turning his attention to pouring tea.
“Oh?” Wang Lu grinned as well, taking the offered cup. His forefinger trapped one of Xiao-hai’s beneath it and he leaned in. He put on his best pitiful eyes. “Am I in trouble?”
Xiao-hai met the stare with one of poorly maintained authority, pulling his finger away as the other smirked. “You could be. If you don’t eat.” He started placing vegetables into Wang Lu’s bowl piece by piece. Wang Lu ate obediently—for once—but kept glancing between his bowl and his friend, drilling him with the glint in his eye.
Suddenly, Wang Lu paused, lowering the bowl as his face drained of what little color it had. He held a palm to his temple and winced. “Xiao-hai,” he muttered, woefully.
Hearing his name called like that, he didn’t know (care) whether it was an act or not. His quick, observant eyes flicked all over Wang Lu. “Your head hurts?”
Wang Lu grunted a pained affirmation. Without a second thought, Hai Yunfan sat down behind him. Quickly but gently, he undid the topknot in Wang Lu’s bed-tangled hair, handing him the leather hairpiece. Wang Lu’s hair was thick and almost wiry, a natural touch of wave in it. It took a careful hand to undo the tangles without pulling. Hai Yunfan must take his time, of course. Dexterous fingers took down the auburn hair and shook it out, undoing knots, massaging the scalp beneath. After a few minutes he was beginning, regretfully, to wonder if he should stop, when he heard Wang Lu’s voice tell him to “Go lower.”
Xiao-hai hesitated, flinching away. “A-ah,” he assented after a few long seconds. He gathered the loose hair together and moved it over Wang Lu’s shoulder. Staring at the back of his neck, the collar around it still damp, Hai Yunfan broke out in a sweat of his own. Just healthcare. His hands moved in. He went to the base of the neck and applied pressure with his thumbs, easing out the tightly bound muscles, working in circles that progressed out along the shoulders. He heard Wang Lu’s tiny exhale, that breath of released tension, and Xiao-hai had to remind himself to breathe too. They stayed that way for a few moments, content in the silence, Wang Lu leaning ever so gradually backward as Xiao-hai leaned in. The distance between them shrank second by second, neither of them noticing.
Finally, Hai Yunfan reached a hand out for the hairpiece. Wang Lu kept his eyes closed, pretending not to notice. “Wang-xiong,” he prompted.
“Can you put it back up for me? My arms feel so heavy.”
Xiao-hai, who had a habit of getting tunnel vision when he was engaged in a task, reached for the hairpiece himself, his arm wrapping around Wang Lu’s side as he felt around the table. Wang Lu let him blindly search, stealthily moving the hairpiece out of reach whenever the grasping fingers got close. Xiao-hai’s chest pressed into Wang Lu’s back as he kept reaching farther. His cheek came to rest on his shoulder blade. Finally he caught on when he felt Wang Lu shaking with suppressed laughter. And that's when he realized the position he'd gotten into.
Xiao-hai jerked away, his face on fire. "You—!”
“What are you doing?” Wang Lu admonished, like Xiao-hai was the one being ridiculous. “Here.” He picked up the other boy’s hand and slapped the hairpiece into it, clicking his tongue with a head shake. “Hahh, you must have been so helpless without me these past days. Don’t worry. I’m here now.”
Sighing away his retort, Xiao-hai’s mouth drew upward in a fond and irritated smile as he went back to finishing his task.
Wang Lu glanced out the window to his right, and Xiao-hai had to grab his head and turn it forward-facing again. “Stay still.”
“What time is it, Xiao-hai?”
“It must be almost midnight.”
“Hn. My parents must be asleep, then. No—let them be; I bet they’re tired. Tch. Why’d I have to wake up in the middle of the night…”
In a few moments he had re-done the hair in exactly the fashion Wang Lu liked to keep it. Lingering on final touches, he drew his tingling fingertips away. He returned to the table to pour some more tea for them both. His hands shook while he did it; he spilled a few drops while sliding the cup across the table. He knew Wang Lu noticed. Very quickly, he started talking before the other boy could. “Finish eating so you can take the medicine. You should go back to sleep as soon as you do. It’s strong for combating a fever, but it can make you delirious and clumsy if you’re awake. At least if you’re asleep, it will only give you strange dreams.”
Mouth half-full, Wang Lu shuddered with a sneer. “If that happens, wake me up. I don’t want to dream about any more weird stuff. Mom talked to me so much, she filled all my dreams with…”
Xiao-hai waited, but he didn’t finish that thought. Softly, he prompted, “What were they about?”
A flash of something in Wang Lu’s eyes—that unspoken frightened thing that lived deeply inside him. He didn’t answer and instead set down his bowl on the table. “Nn. I can’t eat any more.”
Xiao-hai picked up the bowl full of a dark brown, syrupy concoction and held it out.
Wang Lu half-glared, half pouted at it. “Ah, Xiao-hai…I just woke up. Do I have to go back to bed so soon? I already slept for three days, that’s more than enough. I’ll get brain damage. At least give me a few minutes of consciousness, will you?”
Hai Yunfan did not react for a few seconds. Wang Lu, the fool, fixed him with a hopeful little smile and a sad set of eyes. Which was very unfair and very typical. “Come on,” he smirked. “Just keep me company for a while.”
Xiao-hai’s will faltered. It…would be irresponsible. Wang Lu should take the medicine as soon as possible; he was sick, he needed it. But. The thought of this room going silent again…
He relented, setting the bowl to the side. Wang Lu’s grin widened and Hai Yunfan could swear the candle flared brighter with it. Wang Lu reached for the teapot, but Xiao-hai sharply tapped his hand away and grabbed it himself, pouring two cups for them both.
“…I can pour tea, Xiao-hai.”
Hai Yunfan ignored that and set the cup in front of him. Wang Lu blew on the steaming liquid while shaking his head slowly from side to side. A recurring manner of his which Hai Yunfan recognized and smiled at.
“I’ve been totally unconscious for most of the time, but sometimes I was dreaming, and sometimes it was like I was asleep but I could hear things and I couldn’t wake up. It was so boring, Xiao-hai—really awful. Hey. What happened with Xiao-liuli and the elders? The sect? I fixed everything right?”
Hai Yunfan replied patiently, “Yes. Wang-xiong resolved the situation.”
“…Ah, let it go, Xiao-hai. Everything is fine now. Don’t be angry anymore. You think I wanted to face the sword of truth? It was my last resort. I didn’t expect that Wuxiang Bones really wouldn’t help me at all. Let me tell you; it was so strange…”
Hai Yunfan listened well, content to bask in Wang Lu’s chatter for as long as he wanted to talk. The two of them spent the time together the way they often did, Wang Lu so eager to tell his story, Hai Yunfan peacefully listening and participating every so often to egg him on. It all fell into place once again. The way they were together…Hai Yunfan felt it lure him quickly into ease.
But it was not as if nothing had happened at all. He watched Wang Lu in the thrall of storytelling, waving his hands in familiar gestures, his eyes sparking and voice pitching. Wang Lu was just the same as usual. But Hai Yunfan stared at him with a little more intensity. He listened with a little more attention. He replied with a little more enthusiasm. Each moment he cherished just a little more.
With thumb and finger posed beneath his chin, Wang Lu clicked his tongue and finished his tale of encountering the truth sword. He leaned back in a put-on, pensive pose and swirled around the tea in his cup. “Be glad you didn’t go through that, Xiao-hai. I’m not sure you could withstand it.”
Hai Yunfan inclined his head patiently.
“I mean, I’m the one who was in a coma, but you’re the one looking exhausted.” Wang Lu leaned forward suddenly, his hand reaching for Xiao-hai’s face. His fingers lifted his chin while Wang Lu ran his thumb along the dark circles rimming the younger boy’s eyes. His touch was gentle, though his mannerism firm. “Tch, tch… Just look at those bags under your eyes. Did you even sleep, silly?”
Hai Yunfan felt his face warming along with his chest. He swallowed past a suddenly dry throat. He lightly grasped Wang Lu’s wrist and pulled it away from his face, earning a confused look from that oblivious fool. “W-Wang-xiong…you should worry about yourself first.”
He waved a dismissive hand. “I’m the protagonist; of course I’ll be fine. It’s up to me to take good care of you.” And then he just went right back to sipping tea.
This guy. This insufferable…Did he really not know the weight of these things he said so casually?
“…Then. You’d better recover quickly, Wang-xiong.” That said, Hai Yunfan held up the bowl full of medicine once again. His stern eyes said that he meant business. Wang Lu wasn’t getting out of this, no matter how much silver he laced his tongue with.
Wang Lu glared at the bowl for a few heartbeats, pinned underneath Xiao-hai’s hard stare, and knew he was defeated in this matter. “I mean it,” he said. “I’m counting on you, Xiao-hai. You better not leave me hanging if I start to dream.”
Hai Yunfan stared for another concerned second before giving a single nod and hum of agreement. “Don’t worry. I’ll be here.” It felt good to be able to say that. To be counted on by Wang Lu, who never needed anything from anyone, who always had things arranged in a carefully constructed plan. Hai Yunfan often felt humbled by him, but now, he could take pride in knowing that Wang Lu did need him, and he had the ability to reassure him that everything would be taken care of.
Wang Lu met his eyes, then relented and grabbed the bowl, downing it like a shot of liquor. He shuddered and made the disgusting taste known with an indignant groan. “Awful,” he coughed. He raised his teacup and drained it, his arm then slowly falling as his breathing began to even out. Anticipating, Xiao-hai refilled the cup, watching as Wang Lu’s entire manner slowed down. “What is in that? It’s. Strong.” He raised his teacup again but stopped about halfway through, spacing out. With a small, gentle laugh, Xiao-hai reached out and touched the bottom of the cup, raising it as well as Wang Lu’s arm to close the distance. He tilted the cup while his friend drank, then took it from his hand. Wang Lu heaved a sigh, his eyelids falling.
“Maybe it’ll be different dreams this time.”
“So you were dreaming about something unpleasant.”
“Nn.”
“…If you tell me, we can cooperate. Who knows, it may be something I have experience with as well.”
“You?” Wang Lu rubbed his forehead and squinted at Hai Yunfan. “Actually. Yeah, maybe. Let me…ask you a question, Xiao-hai.”
“Yes?”
“You’re a prince.”
“That… I don’t think that counts as a question.”
“You’re a prince, so. Don’t they arrange…from birth. Your—your life? Isn’t it all planned out?”
Hai Yunfan went very still. “…It was.”
“Didn’t they ever tell you something—want you to do something, with your future, that you just…couldn’t agree with?”
Wang Lu was staring down into his empty hands with an expression Xiao-hai had never seen before. It was. Well, it was sad. The closest he could compare it to was the way Wang Lu had looked on the day he was told his Void Spiritual Root was unsuitable for cultivation. He was crestfallen back then, full of self-doubt, but at least held out a bit of hope. It wasn’t the same as the way he looked now. Resigned. As if he’d given up. He’d never given up on anything. What could make him do so now?
“Wang-xiong…” Hai Yunfan tested the water, carefully. “Your mother…while she thought you were asleep. What did she say?”
Wang Lu went quiet again. He exhaled a short laugh, then another followed with a sardonic smile. “Xiao-hai, Xiao-hai. People think you’re always peaceful, but you can be very cunning when you want to be. You avoid my question, and you take advantage of this strong medicine to ask me something instead. You’re learning to be quite clever. Being with me must be making you a better strategist.”
Even now, drugged and half asleep, Wang Lu still couldn’t let down a wall. Couldn’t even find a door to open. But…Hai Yunfan saw no need to push. It might just push him away. Anyway, even if he wanted to cross that threshold and travel deeper into Wang Lu’s heart…what good would that do, in the end? It wouldn’t be safe. It wasn’t good to spend too long in the sun.
His eyes stinging, he reached out to touch Wang Lu’s shoulder. “…I think it’s best if you go to sleep now, Wang-xiong.”
Wang Lu kept staring as his eyes unfocused, making no indication that he even heard.
Xiao-hai stood up and walked around him, taking away the outer robe draped around his shoulders. He shivered, crossing his arms against the cold. Hai Yunfan draped the garmet across a chair and returned to help him up. He grabbed the other boy’s arm, tugging, but Wang Lu was dead weight. Hai Yunfan sighed and glanced to the ceiling. “…Wang-xiong.”
Wang Lu huffed and looked up at him, his eyes glassy. “Hahh…what was that stuff, Xiao-hai? It works so fast. Oh no—this can’t be. I’m afraid I…can’t move...” He lolled his head around like it was too heavy, tossing a hand up in the air towards Hai Yunfan. “You’ll have to drag me…”
Hai Yunfan tsk’d with a breaking smile and knelt down beside him, hooking Wang Lu’s arm around his own shoulders, and reaching his other arm around his back. He could feel the fever still going strong, and the slack of Wang Lu’s muscles as he stood up with him in tow. He felt a skipped beat in his chest as the other slumped against him, so heavy, entirely pliant. His head falling onto his shoulder in such a way that his nose came dangerously close to brushing Xiao-hai’s cheek. The dry and warm smell of his fever-heated skin. Wang Lu’s hand weakly grasping a handful of his sleeve, his hip fitting neatly beneath his own. This may have been the closest he'd ever gotten to Wang Lu. But it was also the farthest Wang Lu had ever reached out for his help. And god, it felt nice. It felt natural, it felt right. What relief just to let go and allow this closeness to take its own form. He even allowed himself to indulge in pretending it would last. It was relief and thrill and it was succor and it was a god damn blade through his heart.
God. Divine, vicious god. Get away from me. Right now. Leave.
…Stay.
Hai Yunfan shivered, bit back a whimper, and pulled Wang Lu back to the bed. He carefully lowered his body down, cradling the back of his head. He groaned softly as Xiao-hai pulled the blankets over him. It wasn't a sound of distress. “Xiao-hai,” he breathed as his eyes began to close.
Fearing his voice might reveal something, he answered with a “Hm?”
“I’ll be…back soon.”
Xiao-hai watched as Wang Lu’s consciousness floated away, leaving behind everything that he couldn’t take along. The room was quiet. The sun had set. In that cold recession, Hai Yunfan was beset with a vast loneliness that made him, for one impulse, one wild fraction of a second, want to crawl into that bed as well, if for nothing more than the sake of following him. Of staying within his warmth. Of not being alone.
He reached down and took Wang Lu’s hand in his own, turning it over and back again, opening the slender cage of his fingers, tracing the creases of his palm. He raised his eyes to Wang Lu’s face and could only wonder at all he was hiding behind it.
“I’ll be waiting.”