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90108s · 11 days ago

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It would be easier for Lu Guang to simply swallow it down and bear it. But it wouldn’t be right.

In truth, nothing felt right. Heels of his hands pressed against his swollen, dry eyes, a crick in his neck, his heart trapped in his throat. One side of his head felt like it was being pulverized, the pain of the migraine stirring up trouble in his stomach. And Cheng Xiaoshi’s dulcet tones in his ear, his pleas no longer endearing.

Lu Guang squeezed his eyes shut at Cheng Xiaoshi’s insistence.

“Lu Guang, come on,” he said urgently. “We need to finish this.”

This was a pile of photographs lined up across their coffee table, marked in chronological order, detailing the lifespan of a relationship between two cousins. The boys had grown up together like twins, Qiao Ling had told them when she outlined the case for them, but then grew apart after one of the cousins developed a gambling addiction. The last straw was when he stole money from his cousin’s mother to feed the insatiable beast, and the cousin cut ties.

He suspects that his cousin also stole their grandmother’s jade, Qiao Ling told Lu Guang in preparation for the case. He wants us to help confirm if that’s true, and if so–if he sold it.

Which would have been straightforward enough, if the gambling cousin was still alive. Unfortunately, he wasn’t.

Hence, the ten plus photographs on the living room coffee table.

Lu Guang shifted his hands from his eyes to his temples, giving them a sorry massage that only made him more miserable. He had been poring through photos for hours now, each of them a photo uploaded to the gamblin cousin’s cloud that the client had managed to pull, dating from five years ago–when the grandmother’s jewelry had gone missing–to five months ago, when the cousin had been found dead in his tiny apartment reeking of alcohol and debt. He scoured every interaction the cousin had with their elderly grandmother for any sign of theft, while Cheng Xiaoshi dived into any photo where he could root around the cousin’s apartment for proof.

Even after five hours straight, they could neither confirm nor deny anything. The instant noodles that Qiao Ling had brought over to them had grown cold and untouched on the side. Lu Guang’s scalp scalded with the migraine, and Cheng Xiaoshi stank heavily of eucalyptus oil smeared under his nose to assuage the nausea that came from back-to-back diving. Lu Guang could smell its medicinal chill when Cheng Xiaoshi came too close to his ear.

“Can you please back off?” Lu Guang said through gritted teeth.

Cheng Xiaoshi huffed as he threw himself backwards on the chair. Lu Guang avoided looking anywhere in his direction as he unscrewed a bottle of soy milk to ease his chapped throat. Cheng XIaoshi fared none better, but he had the self-perception of a goldfish to mask it.

“We’re so close, though,” Cheng Xiaoshi said. “There were addresses to jewelry shops on his Baidu Maps search history. If we can find a photo that happened either right before or right after that one, I’m sure I can find more–”

“Cheng Xiaoshi, we’ve been at this for almost six hours,” Lu Guang groaned. “Taking a break for at least thirty minutes won’t make a difference.”

Cheng Xiaoshi huffed until his bangs flopped carelessly across his forehead. Lu Guang wiped his lips with the back of his hand, gagging slightly.

“What if I forget?” said Cheng Xiaoshi.

Lu Guang exhaled deeply, teeth clenched and nostrils flaring so that it came more as the exasperated hiss of a steamer.

“Then write it down, idiot,” he snapped. “Am I your mother?”

Cheng Xiaoshi’s jaw clenched instinctively, just as Lu Guang’s did the same–for a moment, hesitating, ready to bite down on the words before they escaped his mouth. But they had punched their way through his teeth nonetheless, and at the end of the day, Lu Guang would have let them. Even if he knew that, while he never commented on it, it stung Cheng Xiaoshi.

Because Lu Guang had said the same the first time they had this argument.

The first time they had this argument, Lu Guang was still only twenty years old. He and Cheng Xiaoshi muddled through their abilities with curiosity and bravado. The only thing Lu Guang was afraid of was drowning, and it was abstract.

The first time, Lu Guang grumbled at Cheng Xiaoshi. I’m tired, asshole, he said. Can’t you give me a break? Cheng Xiaoshi said something tone deaf–but you don’t even have to dive, you can just sit there and tell me what to do, it’s easy for you–and at that, Lu Guang stomped up to the bedroom, muttering it’s useless trying to argue with you to himself as he locked the door behind him. He burrowed himself angrily in the bedsheets and didn’t emerge until Cheng Xiaoshi cooked an entire apology dinner.

I’m sorry, Cheng Xiaoshi said quietly when Lu Guang stuffed his mouths with softened carrots. Do you–do you want to talk about it?

He said it with his back straight, even though his spine was shaking. Arguments rarely ended well in his experience–usually with a fist to the cheek, or a door slammed in his face while all the neighbors looked disapprovingly at him with full assurance that he was in the wrong. For Cheng Xiaoshi to be able to talk to Lu Guang took a bravery and a faith that he had to fight for, that he had to learn with blood, sweat, and tears to get through this life.

Yeah, Lu Guang mumbled. I do, and they had finally laid their abilities on the table next to the pot of pork shoulder soup and small bowls of dipping sauce. This was new to the both of them, their magic of a great price, and they were learning their breaking points together. Lu Guang shared his needs to be met, Cheng Xiaoshi his fears of being of no help to others, opening their hearts to make space to grow, and at the end when Cheng Xiaoshi asked Are we okay now? Lu Guang said, Even better.

So Lu Guang couldn’t grin and bear it, as much as he hated this frustration, this headache, the thought of tossing and turning on the top bunk with a heavy, hurting heart. He and Cheng Xiaoshi needed this moment where they grew so that the other could take up more space in their lives. Cheng Xiaoshi needed to learn that he would be loved even if he was upsetting. Lu Guang needed to learn to be honest. They were precious truths that would have carried them through the rest of their lives, if Cheng Xiaoshi had lived long enough for it.

Except this was the second time Lu Guang was having this argument. Everything should be the same, but he wasn’t.

He wasn’t because Cheng Xiaoshi was dead, and yet alive for now. Because Cheng Xiaoshi’s mission-driven stubbornness was what got him killed, and Lu Guang now could see the all bloodred flags leading up to September. Because Lu Guang could now name the anxiety that drove Cheng Xiaoshi into doing things now, before the wait of them consumed him alive, but Cheng Xiaoshi couldn’t yet and Lu Guang had to keep it to himself. Because he and Cheng Xiaoshi were plunging into the photos of a dead man over and over again, and every time Cheng Xiaoshi said something honest about it, Lu Guang had to swallow down how sick it made him feel. It’s so messed up, Lu Guang, Cheng Xiaoshi had said, that this guy has been dead for half a year, and I feel his heart beating in my chest. Lu Guang buried his face in his hands and tried not to cry, even when Cheng Xiaoshi was not here to see it.

“Then write it down, idiot,” Lu Guang said, only realising belatedly he never said the last word the first time round. “Am I your mother?”

Cheng Xiaoshi flinched. Lu Guang didn’t remember that. He thought Cheng Xiaoshi only gritted his teeth. There was a gleam in Cheng Xiaoshi’s eyes that could either be tears or nausea, but Lu Guang knew better than to point it out. Any time Lu Guang pointed out where Cheng Xiaoshi was falling apart at the seams, he would dismiss them like they meant nothing, like they weren’t the reason Lu Guang couldn’t sleep at night, terrified of morning.

“The hell is wrong with you?” Cheng Xiaoshi muttered.

“I’m tired, asshole!” Lu Guang snapped. He didn’t need a script for this. He felt sick to his stomach. He felt like nothing was ever going to be right, and he didn’t know how to make it better. He didn’t know what to do. “Can’t you give me a break?”

“But you don’t even have to dive!” Cheng Xiaoshi protested. “You can just sit there and tell me what to do, it’s easy for you!”

Was it easy? Was it easy to watch Cheng Xiaoshi throw himself into the past over and over again and shrug off Lu Guang’s concern as unnecessary, until he ended up on the wrong side of the bullet? To try again and again to look for what went wrong in the past, obsessing over each detail and torn butterfly wing until he scrounged for the right answer? To feel old and young at once, helpless and culpable simultaneously? To constantly lie, even though he was supposed to have grown to be honest?

Go upstairs, his memory urged him. Lock the door behind you. Go.

But something fiercer, louder than his memory took hold of him, balling itself into a fiery pit in his throat and scalding its way out of him.

“It’s easy for me?” Lu Guang choked out. “Is it? I’m the one who has to try and figure out how to fix everything! I have to fix everything, and you never think twice!”

Lu Guang felt the tears bully their way to his lashes, no matter how much he tried to fight them back. He stared at Cheng Xiaoshi until his vision blurred with sickness and fury, the boy he was supposed to save and couldn’t help but fail. I don’t know what to do, his soul cried out. I’m the only one who can fix this and I don’t even know what to do.

“Useless!” Lu Guang hurled.

He didn’t know to whom he was shouting it, but he knew as soon as it landed that he aimed it at the wrong place. Cheng Xiaoshi froze, breath stuck midway up his throat, eyes wide as if he had been shot in the stomach, and Lu Guang knew that look too well. He went as still as stone, scarcely breathing as Lu Guang’s voice settled like the remains of an earthquake, leaving behind silent wreckage.

Lu Guang caught up with his breath, dizzy with the catharsis, until its tingling numbness gave way to sudden realization. This was not how any of this was supposed to go.

Cheng Xiaoshi blinked rapidly, looking away–the tightening of his jaw could not mask the way his lips shook.

“Forget it, then,” Cheng Xiaoshi muttered. “Let’s just–yeah. Break. Sounds good.”

He stood up from the seat and left the room quickly, shoving his hands into his jacket pocket. He hurried out the front door of the shop, the twinkling of the door bell the only thing keeping Lu Guang company as he was left behind in the sunroom.

#AHHHHHHHHH #i’d read this the other day and then saw it on ao3 and was like !!!!#WAH.... excited for the rest #this is going to be so painful

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