Archive of Our Own ^beta

“A-Ling, please, there was no one involved—“

“But don’t I owe it to him. DON’T I OWE IT TO HIM?!”

Sizhui caught him before he could fall. Jin Ling clutched him like he was the last stable object in his life, like if he hung on for just long enough he could drift ashore to Lotus Pier and everything would be fine again. He would go back and Uncle would fuss at him, and everything would be okay again.

“I’m sorry, A-Ling. I’m sorry,” Sizhui murmured. He ran a hand through his hair, comforting him, and some fragile piece of Jin Ling wanted to break further, to unravel completely in his arms. The only thing that kept him back was the pride his Uncle instilled in him, which was now one of the—one of the only things left—

Jin Ling took a trembling breath. “Uncle, he-“

Sizhui quickly cut in. “It was painless, A-Ling.” At Jin Ling’s pained, shudder of a gasp, Sizhui pushed back his bangs and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “It was so swift, he didn’t even know.”

Somehow that made it worse. His proud, strong Uncle, fighting all alone, only to be squashed when he couldn’t move, couldn’t see. No matter what anyone said, Jin Ling still believed he was conscious. And to be forced to die, knowing no one could hear your screams, it—

A long, mourning sound burst from Jin Ling’s aching chest, and he felt his entire body give into Sizhui’s. His husband stumbled a little from the sudden weight, but his Lan strength that Jin Ling always joked about saved them both from falling to the floor.

Jin Ling openly sobbed, felt that vulnerable piece in him shatter, felt his pride crumble and cringe while he cried hideously. He was thankful to be hugging his husband in this moment. He didn’t want Sizhui to see such a horrible, ugly sight.

His Uncle described him as crying with his full body. First it would start with a tremble, then his face scrunching up, his hands clenching, and finally his eyes would tear up and he would cry. But this—it felt like crying with his soul. The strong grief hit him like a wall of pain, and suddenly his whole body was lurching, hurting, bleeding. It was only Sizhui’s arms that kept him up, kept his body at bay from turning into a monster.

Warm, wet tears stained Jin Ling’s shoulder, but he didn’t notice it. All he could do was cry uselessly, loudly, and cling even tighter to Sizhui.

“I’m sorry,” Sizhui whispered, holding him tight, making sure all his frayed pieces wouldn’t float away and leave him broken forever. “Uncle was very strong in the end.”

Jin Ling’s breath hitched, then another ugly sob bubbled out of him. “What am I going to do now?” He hiccuped hoarsely. “What am I going to do now that Uncle’s—he’s—“

Another cry ripped from his throat, but Sizhui didn’t stop it. Instead, he slowly guided them towards their bed, and sat them down. Jin Ling clung to him, burying his face in his shoulder. Sizhui slowly took out his hair piece, then massaged his scalp. It helped comfort him, made his sobs weaker and weaker until they were only broken cries of a child from a grown man’s lips.

“I never thought this day would come,” Jin Ling whispered into Sizhui’s wet neck. “I always thought—I always thought that Uncle would live forever.”

Sizhui rubbed a hand up and down his back. “It’s hard to be immortal, A-Ling.“

Jin Ling laughed bitterly. “But it’s easy to come back to life, isn’t it?”

“A-Ling,” Sizhui sighed. “How many people have you seen come back to life besides Uncle Wei?”

Jin Ling stayed quiet for a moment before saying in a small voice, “He shouldn’t have—gone, like that.”

Sizhui hummed in agreement. “I know, A-Ling. I’m sorry he had to go this way. But there was no other option.”

Jin Ling wanted to fight, wanted to say that no, there was another way, everyone was just too cowardly to chose the other option. But he felt too boneless, too disconnected from his own body in his own bed to say anything. Instead, he slowly moved back from his husband, got a painful breath of air, then quietly asked if they could just lie down for a bit. Sizhui agreed, and they laid there, all day long. People tried to come in, but Sizhui sent out a talisman god knows when, and told them not to come. It did its work, and for the entire day and night that Jin Ling laid still, no one disturbed them.

The next morning, Jin Ling woke up, put on his robes with trembling hands. He almost threw a fit at being unable to do his hair, but Sizhui kissed his shoulder and did it for him. Jin Ling sighed, and softly kissed him back in appreciation.

“You don’t have to push yourself,” Sizhui murmured against his lips.

Jin Ling closed his eyes and pushed their foreheads together. “That’s why I have you.”

He knew getting over the death of his Uncle, his rock, his only parental figure in his life wasn’t going to be easy, but if Sizhui kissed him every morning, helped him do his hair until it wasn’t necessary anymore, kissed comfort so deep into his skin it bled into his core and allowed him to relax, then Jin Ling thinks he can come back to life again.