#one day I'll have a coherent and consistent tagging system but not today

[veifei]

WIP wednesdaying again!!! this time xia fei is going through it <3 also pls ignore that it's technically thurs ok time got away from me

as always, excerpt also under the cut!

Proper goodbyes were too sentimental, he once thought: to linger was to give what they had too much focus and too much weight, so earnest he might trip up over the formalities, the see you later, or tomorrow, the I'll be going now, you rest well, I'll make sure to rest, I'll message when I'm home. The good night — good bye. I'll miss you, I love you, I'll see you soon. He mouths the words in his not-sleep, holding fistfuls of his linen sheets, trying not to tremble as his vision blurs, rendering the darkened silhouettes into misshapen creatures of the night, tears wetting his pillow case and trailing down his cheeks and salting his lips. He would give up just about anything to be sentimental now, so that must be part of why he turns the key in the lock of the door and slips in, as the sun sets and it's like he's tumbled into a picture from the past. Nothing much has changed -- Xia Fei's invaded Vein's place plenty of times and then been left to his own devices -- the silence is the same. But knowing it's not, not truthfully, is a carving in his heart, slow, steady and painful.

He hadn't actually taken the key, that day. Stubborn in his conviction that such a thing crossed a line of unprofessionalism he couldn't stomach for the moment, he placed them down on one of the low, glass coffee tables. But, it remained there, winking at Xia Fei when the light hit it, almost like a challenge. Finally, he gave in and swiped them after Vein had gone away on a business trip for three weeks, which had meant Xia Fei couldn't be let in to watch movies on his flatscreen TV, couldn't use Vein's bath and body wash, enveloped in his clean scent hidden under the smoky overtone, on his soft L-shaped sofa in his silk robe, indulging in these little luxuries. That was the only reason he swiped the keys, of course. Not because he missed Vein, wanted to crawl into his bed even if he wasn't in it -- wanted to be there, laid out for him in his clothes, his scent, his possession, for when Vein got back. A welcome home.