Actions

Work Header

Rating:
Archive Warning:
Categories:
Fandom:
Relationships:
Characters:
Additional Tags:
Language:
English
Stats:
Published:
2023-09-26
Words:
1,862
Chapters:
1/1
Comments:
39
Kudos:
720
Bookmarks:
97
Hits:
4,350

& despair has the knife at your throat, but hope will kill you first

Summary:

“So you lied to me,” said Cheng Xiaoshi. To that Lu Guang could say nothing—he only looked away, pained. Cheng Xiaoshi felt sick. He didn’t know whether he needed to sit down or throw up, or beat his fists bloody against Lu Guang’s silence.

The worst part was that he had started to come around to it, near the end. Maybe the past didn’t need to be changed; maybe everyone who was dead was already gone, maybe everything was done and past. He’d met the ghosts, he’d carried the messages. It was supposed to be enough. But all this time…

Or: Cheng Xiaoshi finds out.

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Work Text:

“So you lied to me,” said Cheng Xiaoshi. To that Lu Guang could say nothing—he only looked away, pained. Cheng Xiaoshi felt sick. He didn’t know whether he needed to sit down or throw up, or beat his fists bloody against Lu Guang’s silence.

The worst part was that he had started to come around to it, near the end. Maybe the past didn’t need to be changed; maybe everyone who was dead was already gone, maybe everything was done and past. He’d met the ghosts, he’d carried the messages. It was supposed to be enough.

But all this time…

“All this time,” he said, fists balled at his side, “It was already over? I was already dead?”

“No,” said Lu Guang immediately. “You aren’t.”

“So you changed the past,” Cheng Xiaoshi said.

“No,” said Lu Guang, and failed to elaborate. Cheng Xiaoshi really did hit him this time; Lu Guang made a soft cry at the back of his throat, surprised, and staggered as his back hit the wall. “Cheng Xiaoshi—”

Cheng Xiaoshi ignored him. He strode forward and seized him by the collar of his shirt, hauling him roughly up against the wall; his hands were shaking, he was so angry. “You let me think—all those people I tried to save—everyone that’s dead, everyone that’s died—you…”

“Death is a node that can’t be changed,” Lu Guang said, falling back into those old routines, but his facade was cracking straight down the middle. Cheng Xiaoshi could see it plain as day. His gray eyes, illuminated only by the weak moonlight pouring in through the window, were clear and afraid. Then his voice broke: “Cheng Xiaoshi, you died.”

Cheng Xiaoshi swallowed.

“So did everyone else,” he said. “Emma—she died because of me.”

“She died because Liu Min wanted her dead,” Lu Guang said fiercely.

“Fine,” said Cheng Xiaoshi. “But I couldn’t save her. When Chen Xiao’s mother was dying on top of me because of that stupid camera…when Duoduo was kidnapped….when Chen Bin died…when Li Tianxi was hurt, when her parents killed each other in front of her, when she died, when I thought you—Lu Guang, when I thought you were dead, I—”

He couldn’t continue. He’d begun to cry. With one hand, he wiped his tears angrily away. It seemed too deeply profound, too unabashedly vulnerable to bare that kind of weakness to Lu Guang, now that he knew the depths of all that Lu Guang had hidden from him. What was he supposed to say? What the hell was he supposed to say?

“I hate you,” he said, through his tears. “Lu Guang, I hate you so much.”

He wanted Lu Guang to say it back to him—to prove in some twisted way that he’d hated him all along, that that was the reason he’d lied to him and hidden everything from him. That there was nothing in him except some kind of sick loathing, some kind of awful desire to watch Cheng Xiaoshi fail over and over, to drain all the hope and all the wanting right out of him. But even as he thought it, he knew it wasn’t true. It wouldn’t ever be true. Lu Guang had held his body while he was dying. Lu Guang was here, now. With him.

“I didn’t want you to be hurt,” said Lu Guang slowly, painfully, like pulling teeth. His mouth was flat, emotionless, but his eyes were desperate. “The past is inflexible. Not everyone can be saved. Most people can’t.”

“But I can be,” Cheng Xiaoshi said.

Lu Guang shut his eyes. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

Not that it mattered. Because even if Cheng Xiaoshi was dead—even if he was unsaveable, even if he’d been dead this entire time, still he lived. The clock moved against his life, and for it. Lu Guang ran circles around it, threw his whole body against the stream of time for it. He’d held his body while he was dying. He’d watched him die, like he’d watched everyone else die. And all those people that Cheng Xiaoshi couldn't save…all those people he hadn’t even really tried to save because he didn’t know how to try, what trying even was…

“It matters to me,” Lu Guang said quietly.

“Still,” Cheng Xiaoshi said, all anguish, drawing away; Lu Guang’s body sagged against the wall as he let go, and he slid unresistingly down to the floor. “I trusted you.”

He’d followed Lu Guang blindly into the dark with his throat bared to the world. Now look where they’d ended up, both of them with their eyes closed. Looking up at him, Lu Guang’s face was a perfect mask of despair.

“When I thought you were dead,” he said lowly, “Lu Guang, after Li Tianchen had stabbed you—I thought you were dead. The police told me you were dead. And I…”

He grit his teeth, clenched his jaw to stop himself from bursting into tears again.

“You wanted to turn back time,” Lu Guang said, very softly.

“Yeah,” said Cheng Xiaoshi.

He was breathing hard now, and fast, and he was sweating and burning with the feeling trapped inside him, like a caged animal. He couldn’t make Lu Guang see. He couldn’t make Lu Guang understand the breadth of his pain. They’d both died for each other but Lu Guang had never been in a photo of someone else’s body, had never been, had never held himself perfectly still in the shadow of the future, which hunted sharp-eyed and predatorial above him like a hawk. He could never understand.

“I didn’t,” Cheng Xiaoshi said, “because you told me not to.”

He’d seen Emma die in front of him when he tried to save her. And Chen Xiao’s mother had died anyway. And the past was supposed to be in the past, unchangeable.

Lu Guang was supposed to be better than him—he was supposed to know more, keep the balance, save the world. Selfishly, Cheng Xiaoshi hadn’t wanted to break his trust like that. Even to save his life, he hadn’t wanted to go back and face Lu Guang’s anger, or his disappointment.

Ha. Well, look at him now.

Despite everything, Lu Guang’s lips twitched into a smile—so small and so brief that Cheng Xiaoshi nearly missed it. It was fond and a little bitter, too; a little ironic.

“I’m glad,” Lu Guang said, like the honesty was being scraped out of him in ribbons. “You have no idea. I’m so glad.”

“Then what?” Cheng Xiaoshi bit out, a fresh wave of hurt and anger crashing down on him. It blazed through him, white-hot. “You’re allowed to save me—but I can’t save you? I’m the only one who’s not allowed to get hurt? Everyone that’s living their lives, everyone that’s died—Lu Guang, grow up! I’m alive, so…so…”

His voice broke. He didn’t know what to do. He wanted to drop to his knees and crawl into Lu Guang’s embrace, like a child. He wanted the entire world to kneel down beside him and stroke a hand through his hair. There was nothing he could do. There wasn’t ever anything he could do.

“Lu Guang,” he said, close to tears again, “Why did you save me?”

Lu Guang said nothing. Perhaps he didn’t know, or there wasn’t any reason; or, more probably, there was a reason and he couldn’t say it, or wouldn’t. Lu Guang would never tell anyone anything without a gun to his head and even then, he’d squirrel his secrets away behind his silence. Like the bars of a cage, Cheng Xiaoshi saw clearly the divide between them: Go back. Look forward. Keep circling the same spot for years, unmoving.

Finally, Lu Guang said, “I wanted you to live.”

“So it’s about your wanting,” said Cheng Xiaoshi.

“No,” said Lu Guang. His voice was very tired. “I don’t know. Maybe. Cheng Xiaoshi, I—” and he stopped, face stricken.

He really was so afraid, so terrified of that vast unknowing between them. The great chasm upon which their friendship and their partnership rested upon had opened up; it had swallowed everything. Both of them standing on opposite sides, looking in; both of them unable to see anything at all.

“I needed you to live,” Lu Guang said. “It’s not about my wanting, because I needed it. I need you. I couldn’t live without you. When I was dying, I thought—selfishly, I was glad. If someone had to die, I was glad it was me instead of you. Even if you died, I was glad I didn’t have to watch it.”

Cheng Xiaoshi flinched like he’d been shot. “You can’t be serious.”

“When someone dies, their body stays warm for a while,” Lu Guang continued, like a man possessed. His expression was steely, desperate, cracked completely open like an egg. “But even when it’s cold, you don’t stop feeling the warmth. Sometimes the blood in the wounds keeps flowing, even when the pulse has stopped. If it’s on your hands, it dries pretty fast depending on how much you have on you. And it smells like iron. You can’t ever stop smelling it, even when you’ve washed it all off. When it dries on clothing, it stiffens up. It browns. The longer you wait to wash it, the worse it gets. You can get that off if you try hard enough, but it’s difficult so good luck. And you can call the police, but the body’s still going to be on the floor where you left it. You can get rid of the person, but you can’t get rid of the ghost.”

“You haunt me,” Lu Guang said. “Cheng Xiaoshi, you haunt me. Is it so wrong that I want you to live?”

Even in the darkness, his expression was painfully honest, like it hurt him. Cheng Xiaoshi had never seen him like this before—so open and vulnerable and wanting. Full to the brim with some kind of feeling that surpassed them both to line the bones of the calendar and stride side-by-side alongside the years.

“I really,” Cheng Xiaoshi said, stunned, “I really used to think that I knew you.”

“You do,” said Lu Guang, rising to his feet. He was unfolding right there, in front of him. And Cheng Xiaoshi did know him, in a way. He knew the sound of Lu Guang’s footsteps on the stairs, and the sound he made when he was frustrated, and the sound he made when he was tired and wanted to go to bed. He really did know Lu Guang backwards and forwards, from the start to the end of the world. That had to count for something. Surely that counted for something.

“All those people—” he said.

“And you,” Lu Guang said.

“You haven’t saved me,” said Cheng Xiaoshi.

Lu Guang smiled bitterly. He looked out the window. Cheng Xiaoshi was falling into the open grave, and Lu Guang was chasing him into it. Lu Guang was dying, and Cheng Xiaoshi was already dead. What a pair the two of them made.

“No,” he agreed. “I haven’t.”

Notes:

whew im so glad im normal about this show and theres nothing wrong with me at all haha. anyway that finale huh. <- trying with every cell in my body not to start shaking and crying just thinking about it. haolin owes me rent money for the real estate in my brain. im also not completely happy with this one but if i dont post it i might actually explode

thanks for reading! im on tumblr as sunslants. any spare comments or kudos you might have rattling loose around in your pockets would be greatly appreciated too, for the benefit of all the sickly orphans (braincells) i employ in my shiguang mines (my google documents).