Archive of Our Own ^beta

~o*oOo*o~

“O little one,
My little one,
Come with me,
Your life is done.
Forget the future,
Forget the past.
Life is over:
Breathe your last.”
Abarat (Clive Barker)

~o*oOo*o~

By now the surviving headlight had been extinguished altogether. The pungent rush of smoke and burning metal still lingered in his senses- poor Ruoye, poor Ruoye, poor, poor, poor, Ruoye —as he waded into the yawning forest. All the waving bare boughs seemed to be hundreds and hundreds of hands, reaching for him. 

For a foolish split second in time Xie Lian was again a little child, whom had jumped into too-deep water at Isle Bianca. As his lungs burned and wrung themselves he’d fumbled frantically for the light of the surface in a flurry of bubbles. If ever there were an incentive to kick, it was the fact the bottom couldn't be seen-there was only darkness all the way down, down, down. 

Now, it was descend, or die.

Xie Lian staggered through the brush and waded through knee-high snow, staining much of it red from the fire-and-teeth gash on his thigh. But the man's amused calls still rang sweetly in his ears, along with the fresh sounds of snapping dry leaves and branches as the black silhouette followed. Almost at a leisurely pace. 

Tilting back his head the terror of his existence sweetly called after, mocking and singsong, although taut around the edges with obvious fury:

"OLLY-OLLY-OXEN-FREE!"

By now the snow glittered underneath the stars like a threat. It was scarcely light enough besides for Xie Lian's own hand inches away from his face, and he kept smacking into trees and getting tangled in branches, liberally scratching him. Again he felt for his phone in his pockets, and again scrabbled at empty space. He'd dropped it. His one lifeline and he'd dropped it.

His ragged breathing appeared in the frosty air in puffs that swam over his face as he hurried downhill, slipping more than once and soaking himself in the process. He forced himself up and running again, heart beating so painfully in his throat and blood pounding so prominently in his ears he wondered that the noise hadn't given him away yet. The moon and stars watched through the trees as he swallowed the cries for help that he knew would only kill him in the end.

There was no one here in these parts. No one. 

"DON'T MAKE ME DRAG YOU OUT, YOU DIRTY LITTLE FAGGOT, DON'T MAKE ME COME FIND YOU!"

However deep he went,  Jun Wu's voice was not getting any further away, and he was clearly following the evidence Xie Lian could not erase in the snow drifts. He stopped cold and looked round, clutching at a searing stitch in his side. Chest heaving, the young man went deeper, mind blank with futility and hot with terror. He choked on dry sobs, his clawing hands angry-red, aching and burning fiercely.

"I'LL KILL YOU! GONNA RIP THIS KNIFE THROUGH YOUR ASS AND FUCKING CUT YOU!"

Better to give up now—it was the only thing left to do, besides hanging himself with his coat—he had his pick of trees—but his treacherous feet kept moving automatically as he rushed through several bare branches. No good, no good, no good, was the mantra his slipping feet kept stamping through the snow. 

Xie Lian tripped over a tree root, and his vision briefly turned white as he fell for the third time, this time feeling an awful pop in his ankle. There was a brief, horrible moment before the pain fully registered that he understood that he'd been hurt badly before he hit the ground.

A crucifying jolt surged in his throbbing-madly ankle. Voice catching in the lump in his throat, he lay crumpled and winded, wet hair falling messily over his face. Any moment now there would be Jun Wu and his knife and he would tear out his throat and it might be a relief, compared to what else the man might like to do. Especially because he'd shown a proclivity towards assault before. Xie Lian pressed his bitterly-cold hands against his mouth to restrain the primal shriek of despair that rattled inside his ribcage like a pinball.

After some time—he couldn't tell for how long—he rose again, dripping, smarting with cold and hurt, and hobbled forward. There was a retaliatory stab of pain in his ankle with each step, as if he were the mermaid in the original Hans Christen Anderson story. 

Gritting his teeth, a fine sheet of sweat on his brow despite the extreme chill, he managed ten steps before he was forced to clutch a tree for support, every inch of him crying for release as he shakily limped away again, spotting a fallen branch. Xie Lian quickly broke it into an adequate staff, limping with the birch over his shoulder as he came into a small clearing.

Jun Wu's shouts and intermittent curses had faded somewhat, but he couldn't have got away so easily. Xie Lian came to a stop before a yew tree, sagging against his support, face deathly-white. Gasping, he looked up to find a small well. The weathered, cracked stone and splintery wood looked positively ancient, but perhaps it meant there were buildings somewhere not far away.

And inhabitants.

Xie Lian plunged deeper into the heart of the forest, positively-malefic gales pushing him back. By now the branches had grown so thick and so clustered overhead he couldn't see the moon or stars anymore; he was running near-blind as the Earth lurched off its axis, nearly sending Xie Lian falling back into the snow. 

His path narrowed into a thicket-tunnel, and he forced himself to crawl through it, blistering hands rapidly losing feeling in them. Jun Wu was still yelling what sounded like lewd promises in the distance, but maybe this pass would be too small for his pursuer to lumber through.

For what felt like a very long time the inky tunnel seemed to narrow in its plummet into the earth itself. But eventually it began to expand, and soon Xie Lian was able to shakily rise, wincing as he forced himself upright, rushing to an enormous hill. Xie Lian narrowly avoided rolling down the frosty slope again twice-what he wouldn't have given to be there with Mu Qing and Feng Xin under different circumstances-as he hauled himself up to the top. 

It was then he came upon a house. His erratic breathing hitched into a gasp.

The building's silhouette was a greater darkness than the gloom surrounding it, shivering in its own shadow. It was an enormous, Victorian beauty, pillared and with brick-red shingles lacquered so distinctly even in the night Xie Lian could see they looked like scales. The roof and dilapidated window panels were a dark slate, and upon the roof and ground floor there was iron fencing. Somehow they managed to look both delicate and threatening, the intricate spirals in the metal belying their sharp arrowheads.

But with panels scattered on the snow about it like missing teeth, the faded paint, the splintered wood and the fact that the distinctly-unwelcoming looking place seemed sunken into the snow, the ruin had a foreboding feel of neglect. Had Xie Lian not been so frightened, he might've sensed how the whole perimeter had the stale taste of neglect to the air.

But he was, and he didn't, so Xie Lian ran faster than he ever had in his life, his injuries nearly unrecognizable in the face of overwhelming adrenaline. He had to shove himself against the rusted-fast gate before it last reluctantly slipped open a crack with a shuddering, dry creak . Beside him was a snow-colored sign that read, in fading letters that might’ve once perhaps not invoked irony: Paradise Manor. 

And with that Xie Lian dragged himself up the pass to the door, pounding furiously. "Hello? Hello, please, is there anyone here?!”

And there was silence in response, save for the wind as it fretted to itself. Tearing, Xie Lian seized the rusting doorknob and wrestled with it—but it was locked. His voice shot up a few octaves as he implored: “ Please! Please, help me! It's an emergency!"

Somewhere Jun Wu bellowed his name. Tears dashing down his face, Xie Lian frantically hammered the door with both fists.

"Please, please, please open up, he's going to kill me," Xie Lian wept, hot tears splashing on the door. "He's come to kill me and I've got nowhere else to go, no phone, so please—"

The dark windows suddenly lit up like jack-o-lantern eyes, painting the outside billows yellow. A second later Xie Lian squawked as the door he'd been leaning against disappeared and he crash-landed face first on a carpet. Hands immediately seized his shoulders and Xie Lian instinctively recoiled, looking up with terrified eyes.

The stranger jerked back as if burned, his own dark eyes dilated and fervid. He was a tall, pale, and wiry young man—he scarcely seemed older than Xie Lian—and he reluctantly backed away, shoulders squaring. Xie Lian slowly held up his trembling scratched hands to show he was unarmed, biting the inside of his cheek until he tasted rust.

“Please, sir. I know it’s late, and I’m sorry for intruding. But there’s a maniac o-out there. He’s s-says he’s going to k-kill me. He-he followed my car and I just wanted to get away but it was icy and he rear-ended me and I skid off the road into a ditch and he got out and—“

Oh right. Breathing was good. Xie Lian gasped for air before abruptly plunking on the floor again, limbs eagle-spread.

The boy didn’t speak or move. Then, as tentatively as if approaching a wounded animal, he slowly knelt, expression still stony. Xie Lian sprung up to a sitting position, squirming underneath the stranger’s unblinking gaze. His own eyes uneasily flicked to the closed door. 

It briefly registered to Xie Lian that hadn't heard the door open or shut, but the stranger must've opened and closed it in a hurry. They warily considered each other, and Xie Lian wondered if the stricken-looking boy had wordlessly initiated a staring match. He kept his hands held aloft, praying to whomever might be listening that Xie Lian would not be turned out into the night to meet his fate. 

Xie Lian was not hopeful; learning the stuff of a B-rated horror film was lurking in your woods because of the stranger shivering on your front porch couldn’t have made an excellent first impression. Xie Lian briefly pictured being hurled back out into the snow, and the idea made his insides freeze over in a way the bitter cold hadn’t. 

“Please,” Xie Lian pleaded, voice painfully soft. He even bowed. “Help me. I promise I’m not here to h-hurt you.” 

The only indication the boy heard him at all was the fact that he quipped a thin eyebrow. 

“Um,” Xie Lian broke the silence awkwardly. “So, speaking of bloodthirsty stalker maniacs—“

The boy started as if Xie Lian had overturned water over his head. He reached out for Xie Lian again, hesitated, and then grabbed his forearm anyway. Xie Lian winced; the stranger’s hold was positively vice-like.

"Why does your pursuer want to kill you?" The stranger rasped, voice as dry and rumbling as a disused motor engine.

“Why? Because he can!” Xie Lian cried, jerking in the boy’s harsh clasp with all the success of an animal in a trap. “Because—because—“ Something that truly sucked sometimes about being queer was the fact that you came out not once, but over a hundred times. “—he thinks just because—I l-like guys as much as I do girls—“ The stranger’s hand immediately slackened and Xie Lian at last succeeded in prying his arm free. “—that means I’ll…I’ll sleep with anyone. O-or that I o-owe him somehow b-because he’s…older, because he has p-power over a lot of people, and keeps sending these a- awful letters , and sick g-gifts I don’t even want—“ He buried his face in his hands.

Silence once again. Xie Lian dared peek through parted fingers. The strange boy’s suspicion had melted away; now he looked upon Xie Lian with pained sympathy.

“Very well.” The stranger looked so young-just slightly older than Xie Lian-but sounded so much like an old man at that moment. Despite the severity of his own circumstances, Xie Lian ached to hear the weariness in the stranger's voice. “I understand. You may seek refuge in this place. You will be safe here.”

Exhaling, Xie Lian slumped over into a bow of gratitude. "Thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you." The stranger looked him over carefully again. At least he seemed convinced Xie Lian was not a burglar. And judging by how his brow furrowed, worried. “Oh, you're hurt —" Xie Lian wondered if he looked as bad as he felt. "—you really are hurt, what did you do? You look like you got into a fight with a bear on the way here—"

"Please," Xie Lian whispered again, ashamed and angry as the tears continued to fall despite his shock. He couldn't stop babbling, everything that he'd kept silent for months slipping out from rapidly-crumbling defenses. The stranger said he could stay, but he had to hear it again. "All I wanted—all I wanted was for him to leave me alone, but h-he knows where I l-live, he kept calling me every time I changed my number, Feng Xin and Mu Qing tried scaring him off and it didn’t work, fucking—mama tried calling the police but he— he found me—"

The young man hushed him, holding out a hand Xie Lian didn’t take. “Can you stand? Do you need help?”

“…um, probably! Just a few scrapes.” Xie Lian tried and failed to stand. “But I think I just feel like scooting around now, to be completely honest. All the rage now; don’t you worry about a thing.”

The stranger’s hand remained extended. 

Xie Lian blushed, and then hesitantly allowed the young man to tug him upright. He was becoming acutely aware again of just how badly his ankle hurt. He could only perch like a stork on one good leg, and he hissed through his teeth. The stranger nearly dropped him in his haste. 

“Uh, it’s really nothing, just a— ah!“

A second later the boy grabbed his free leg and was gently prizing off Xie Lian’s shoe. Xie Lian flailed at the air from his ballerina-esque pose, very nearly sending the two crashing to the floor. The young man inspected the swelling bulge that was Xie Lian’s ankle, and scowled before tentatively looping one of Xie Lian's arms around his shoulder. Xie Lian cautiously tolerated the contact, and the stranger's eyes closed for a brief moment.

"The door’s double-bolted." He pointed toward the door with his foot. "And I have a knife." Xie Lian flinched, partially out of insinuation and from guilt over the drowsy wave of relief that passed over him at the words. He normally objected to violence. "No one is coming to hurt you, I promise. I won’t allow it.” The stranger’s tone darkened considerably and he leaned in much too close to comfort. “I shall kill anyone who tries breaking in here.”

“Um…ooookay.” Xie Lian managed a strangled smile. “That’s…that’s good. Yay?”

“Anyway, let’s get you cleaned up.”

“Sir, begging your pardon, but I'm-.”

“If you’re also bleeding all over my carpet, you probably could use some cleaning up,” The young man pointed out dryly. Xie Lian looked down at his thigh and blushed.

“Relax…just relax. I’ve got you. You need to rest.

"Um." At least the stranger sounded as sheepish as Xie Lian felt. “My name’s San Lang. I…” He paused, seemed to think better of it, and he and Xie Lian dazedly allowed himself to be led to another room as spots swam over his vision.

“My name’s Xie Lian…at least that’s what I’ve been told…God, I hope my parents haven’t been lying to me.”

Something like a snort beside him. "Good for you. You can explain more once we get you down—easy, easy now, you’ve lost a lot of blood—I’ve got you—"

And while Xie Lian scarcely drank in anything but a blur at the moment, he felt himself gently lowered—softness. He was sinking in an impossibly-squashy sofa that seemed intent on eating him.

“Xie Lian?” Someone was gently shaking him. “Xie Lian, it’s alright. I already said I wouldn’t let anything touch you.”

“I remember." 

“Then why did you turn white as a sheet all of a sudden?” 

Xie Lian closed his eyes, opened them again because a terror was embroidering itself inside his eyelids. Nope, he wasn’t going to imagine anyone or anything eating anything or anyone tonight.

He remembered one of the terrible notes he’d received in the past month alone he couldn’t forget even if he’d ripped it to pieces-

Violets are blue, your cheeks are red—

Your eyes are so pretty. I want to eat them.

San Lang reluctantly released him, muttering beneath his breath as he hurried away. "Water, hot water, bandages, and ice—"

Xie Lian's head sagged back against a pillow, and he took in the background with a mite of curiosity. There was a small brass chandelier with glass bulb-frames that looked as if it'd been recovered from an antique shop. There were two small chintz armchairs sitting near a beautiful mantle, beneath which was a fireplace. It was surrounded by two enormous shelves filled with leather-bound books with beautiful, peeling gold lettering on their spines.

There were delicate tables scattered around the room, and velvet curtains with heavily-hung tassels before the windows; he was grateful the drapes were drawn. The wallpaper was an intricate, vintage floral pattern. He thought of San Lang’s bruque mannerisms and let out a brief chuckle; this delicate home couldn’t seem like a more improper fit for someone whom looked like he haunted Hot Topic. This place looked more like his grandmother's house with the innumerable family photos and watercolor sailboat paintings sucked dry.

In a corner there was a cabinet filled with delicate-looking teacups, and on the coffee table before him was an empty decanter and two glasses. There was even a grandfather clock ticking dutifully in the corner with a swinging pendulum. Place probably belonged to some old white lady whom smelled like a Protestant church. 

His eyes fluttered dreamily as he heard San Lang's approaching footsteps. San Lang suddenly seemed very interested in admiring the drapes, bearing a small tray with two bowls and what looked like the contents of a first-aid kit. "I like your home," Xie Lian lied as San Lang set the tray on the table and knelt beside him. "Very…uh, old-fashioned chic. Yeah. Good stuff, early 1900s chic."

"That in all great likelihood was my mother's intent," San Lang said lightly, sounding amused as if enjoying a private joke. He dipped a small rag into a bowl of icy water and wrung it. "She always liked to keep it just so. It belonged to my grandparents before they died. Sorry—this might hurt a bit."

Xie Lian sucked in a breath as San Lang carefully dabbed his ankle, touch surprisingly gentle. "I'm not a doctor, but if you can still flex it—can you flex it? Very good. Then it seems to be a bad sprain in lieu of a fracture." He wrapped the compress around the swelling foot and Xie Lian watched him, eyes filling up again.

"Thank you," he choked out again. "I can't possibly thank you enough. You saved my life tonight." 

San Lang didn’t respond. His eyes wandered to the rip in Xie Lian’s black pants where the angry scarlet wound glistened. His eyes positively slivered, and there was a near-ballistic spasm at his mouth. “We’ll have to clean that. Can you…” He tucked a hand behind his head. “…uh, take your pants off?”

Xie Lian immediately scooted back until his back thumped against the couch end. San Lang wasn’t the first one to ask that. 

“You don’t have anything I haven’t seen before!” San Lang snapped, grabbing Xie Lian’s leg. Before Xie Lian could cry out, San Lang propped Xie Lian’s foot atop a pillow. “You’ve got to keep that elevated.”

He thrust a rag and a tube into a startled Xie Lian’s lap. “And you must dress your wounds before there's an infection. I’m not asking you to—to take everything off, but if it troubles you, I’ll just look away.” San Lang grabbed a book off the shelf and hastily looked inside despite the fact it was upside down.

He spoke again, much more quietly, “If you need help with your bandages, let me know. Otherwise, you can do it yourself, and let me know when to turn around.”

Xie Lian contemplated him warily, but San Lang remained where he was.  He shimmied clumsily out of his clothing, cursing quietly under his breath as the fabric brushed against his gash. San Lang’s head gave the slightest of twitches, but otherwise he remained where he was.

Xie Lian’s hands shook all the while and his teeth grit as he saw to his injuries; the glistening red gash was deep, although wading in the snow had slowed the bleeding somewhat. Xie Lian still thought it was liable to leave quite a scar.  After wiping his grimy hands clean on a damp towel from the tray, he smeared the gritty antiseptic on his injury.

And it promptly turned into liquid fire.

San Lang was babbling something somewhere, but Xie Lian could scarcely hear him over the tortured cry ringing somewhere nearby. Wait, that was—

San Lang was by his side in an instant, voice split with urgency. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

Abashed, Xie Lian rubbed at his watering eyes. "I'm sorry. I took myself aback just now. But I'm really fine."

But San Lang was once again unhappily inspecting Xie Lian’s wound. Xie Lian was beginning to wonder if San Lang had fifty shades of scowls in lieu of any additional human expressions.

“Will you at least allow me to bandage this?” He asked shrewdly, and Xie Lian only prayed San Lang hadn’t noticed how badly his hands were trembling at this point. He couldn’t hold them steady.

“I’m fine!” insisted Xie Lian once again, before uncertainly glancing over at the roll of cloth bandages beside him. Oh, if only he’d become a Boy Scout and learned to do this sort of thing at camp. But he had demanded to be accepted into Girl Scouts, mainly because Xie Lian had torrents of relatives to sell cookies to and could rock that sash and beret better than anyone else. “Um. Sort of. Well, really great. But I’d…I’d just like to see if you know how to do it. If…that’s alright with you.” 

For the briefest of seconds Xie Lian wondered if he saw a shadow of a smile. But in a blink it was gone, and San Lang silently began unwinding the bandages. “That’s…some cut. Um.” He placed a hand behind his head for a moment. “He…your pursuer…did he…?”

Xie Lian didn’t trust himself to speak for a long moment, for fear the lump moving its way up his chest and lodging itself in his trachea might burst open. San Lang lowered his eyes and began spinning the fabric around the wound, touch as light and precise as a spider’s.

Xie Lian’s ears went bright pink and he wildly wondered if one could die from sheer mortification. But San Lang’s ministrations were gentle, though his hands were curiously cold, and Xie Lian was grateful for his kindness. 

“…you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” San Lang said, a slightly apologetic edge creeping in.

“It’s okay,” Xie Lian lied again. He owed San Lang this much. “Like I said…I saw  Jun Wu’s car following me from my rearview mirror.” He rolled his eyes and waved his hand as if to say that was so yesterday’s news. San Lang had quite the poker face though, so it was impossible to tell if he bought it or not. “I was kind of late getting out of school because um, well, my friend Mu Qing was sick a few days ago and I couldn’t borrow his notes for a test we had.” San Lang hid his mouth behind a hand and Xie Lian glared warningly at him. 

“So, the teacher made me stay late and re-take the test. I did really well, if I may so myself, considering I just read the movie review instead of the book.” His proud grin slowly evaporated.

“I got out, and then headed home. The roads were nearly deserted—probably cause of the wind chill and blizzard warning—“ He impatiently swiped at his eyes. “Man oh man, is it bright in here. And Jun Wu just came out of nowhere and started tailgating me. I tried digging my phone out of my pocket—“

“…your phone?” Now San Lang sounded skeptical.

“Well, yes, I know you aren’t supposed to use your mobile phone behind the wheel, but I didn’t feel like I had a choice! I dug around for it and it wasn’t there. Shortly after-" His voice swallowed itself. 

San Lang tied the bandage ends in a knot, and Xie Lian carefully sat up with a soft murmur of thanks. To his bemusement San Lang pressed a hand on his chest and firmly pushed him back down again. “Ah!" 

"Lie down, gege." The nickname startled Xie Lian, but not unpleasantly so. Certainly not compared to the menagerie of horrific surprises that had swept this day into chaos. 

“If you get too lightheaded you could pass out. Just…keep going.”

Xie Lian sighed, obeying, warily continued: “I remember I had to shove my phone in my bag pocket fast before the teacher caught me, and I buttoned it shut. I couldn’t have dropped it.” His moistening hands curled into fists, knuckles turning pearly-white. “I think he… Jun Wu must have taken it before I went home. Seems like something he’d do.” A humorless chuckle broke free. “Somehow, probably while I was at gym. It’s not the first time he’s…dug around in my l-locker.” 

San Lang settled down beside Xie Lian, drawing up his knees and hugging them. “So… Jun Wu was in your school…and has power over people. He’s a teacher?”

“Principal, actually.” Xie Lian was unaware of the fact he was clutching a pillow to his chest. “When the letters and gifts started appearing in my locker they were actually kind of sweet, though Mu Qing was creeped out by the fact someone could break into my locker.” Xie Lian's smile was wistful. “I was just psyched to have an admirer. But she was right. She always is…figures that the first person who ever hit on me was crazy.” San Lang let out a noncommittal grunt, but said nothing.

“When the admirer asked me to meet after school one day in the gymnasium I did out of curiosity's sake. But of course it was Jun Wu.” He felt a flood of acid in his mouth.

“I really, really hoped it was just some sick joke or some misunderstanding, but he approached anyway. I…guess he f-found out somehow that I was bi. He told me he was in love with me…and that if I came over to his house like a good boy, I’d get some compensation…” Xie Lian let out a twisted, bitter laugh. “Like just because I’m bisexual I’m some prostitute that’ll jump anything for cash or b-better grades! Sounds like a really, really bad porn film…

“Anyway, he’s some forty-too many years older than me and just…greasy looking. His face is always pink and kinda shiny. And I swear he slimed his way over to the middle of the gymnasium. He has hair growing out of his ears, these…beady little eyes, like a pig’s. And…he just...leers at people. All. The. Fucking. Time. No wonder he can’t keep a secretary.” He winced. “And honestly?  Jun Wu’s cruel for cruelty's sake."

“…I know.” San Lang said quietly. “Xie Lian, I’m so sorry.”

“I’m standing in the gym, praying I’m just having a horrible dream I’d have to share with my future psychiatrist. But I could smell him coming… Jun Wu just literally and figuratively stunk, and you could smell the cheap body spray he used trying to cover it up. His…what he did that day…was the grossest thing that ever happened to me.”

He’d have to hurry; this story would soon be eclipsed with tears that came from a place that made him worry he’d never stop crying ever.

“Actually, I’m wrong. He grabbed me, f-fucking shoved his t-tongue down my throat and started groping m-my hips…that probably wins the ‘grossest’ category…I’m sorry, I’m probably making you sick right now, aren’t I?”

He thought he felt San Lang shudder violently beside him, and positively scalding vibes pierced the air. When Xie Lian curiously glanced at him he very nearly slipped off the sofa. San Lang’s clenched teeth were bared, and his hand had twisted into the sofa upholstery so much there was white stuffing now in his grip. 

With a sickening jolt that nearly set him dry-heaving, Xie Lian wondered if maybe San Lang thought he were some dirty, contaminated fag now. It’s okay. I hate me too.

At least they had something in common.

Xie Lian warily contemplated asking where the bathroom was. Then he could bunny-hop safely away to the backyard, though it was probably littered with corpses. And maybe San Lang would give chase on a tricycle and force Xie Lian to play a twisted survival game. Like making him uncover a key buried in a trussed-up  Jun Wu’s lower-intestine to unlock a bomb vest strapped to Xie Lian’s chest. Oh God. Holy Maria. I’ll say a rosary. All the rosaries. I’ll maybe stop sleeping through Sunday mass sometimes if you just let me get through tonight.

But despite San Lang’s ill-concealed fury and disgust, it didn’t seem as if any of it were directed at Xie Lian himself. Xie Lian pictured a ring of knives encircling them both, violently darting out at the rest of the world entire. He felt his head. Moly Hoses, but he probably had a concussion, though he didn’t remember hitting his head. Maybe that was just how badly concussed he really was. 

“…yes.” San Lang choked out at last, resting his chin atop his kneecaps. “I…feel sick. But for your sake.”

A not unpleasant rush of heat flooded Xie Lian’s face. “Well, thanks. I pushed  Jun Wu away and ran the hell out…I just…I couldn’t tell my parents. Saying it would just make it more real, and…” His voice broke. “I couldn’t deal with it. And my papa had enough to think about, because his twin sister was really sick. Dying sick. I mean, she was his best friend. I started seein’ white streaks appear in his hair and I didn’t wanna worry him for anything. But you better believe I didn’t sleep that night…

“I told Feng Xin and Mu Qing the admirer was just playing a practical joke on me. B-but the principal called me over the intercom to his office the next day…I was so scared but the teacher m-made me go…he got really nasty after that.” He pressed his fist to his lips and bit down hard on a knuckle.

“He told me what he would do if I told anyone. He’d flunk me. My friends. He wouldn’t let any teachers write me recommendation letters for college. H-he’d hurt me. And D- Jun Wu said that people would just a-assume if I talked that I was just t-trying to frame him because I w-wind up in the principal’s and guidance c-counselor’s offices a lot. Like I said, I..I have a h-hard time in class sometimes, even with my meds. The school won’t really d-do much to help me there. And because Jun Wu’s fucking brother is the chief of police in our town, there isn’t much I can do,” he muttered thickly. “And  Jun Wu said….well, after that, he—he said I had—to crawl under his desk, and—and—“

Sure enough, the words had all the effect of Moses tapping at the rocks for water; the tears came in torrents. 

“I’m sorry…I can’t talk about it anymore. Long story short, I actually got this cut when I crashed my car.” He heard himself with a dying fall. “Oh God, Ruoye—that was the name of my car-is gone now.” He threw an arm over his face. "Poor thing!"

“…well, um…I’m sure Ruoye would want you to. And Xie Lian?” San Lang turned, and he suddenly looked so heartbroken Xie Lian ached for him immediately. How could he have assumed San Lang was some kind of robot? “Again, I know it does nothing, but…I am so, so sorry. I…” His grip loosened on the upholstery, and San Lang actually buried his face in his hand. “Never mind…I wish I knew what to say.”

San Lang deliberated, and then added carefully: “If it were me though, I wouldn’t want anyone to say anything.” He seemed to be talking to himself now. “Not in the face of something that…despicable. Anything would just seem…cheap. Too small and insincere.”

“You mean like a platitude? Oh, I totally get you there.” San Lang suddenly looked as confused as if Xie Lian were speaking another language. “Honestly, when people notice I’m sad they’ll always tell me everything’s okay when it’s not. Who are they to tell me the sun will come out tomorrow when they have no clue what’s happening to me? It’s just…I dunno, it seems really insensitive.”

“Perhaps they tell you everything’s well to convince themselves more than anything. Maybe they tell you to cheer up without asking because…they don’t truly want to know why you’re unhappy. With a situation like yours, the truth would make them…uncomfortable. I guess you’re the type who wouldn’t go out of your way to do that to anyone for anything.”

“How do you know?”

“Lucky guess,” said San Lang dully. He brightened a bit.

“By all means, be uncomfortable. Be sad…if anyone deserves it right now, it’s you. I won’t hold it against you at all.”

“…thanks, I guess? Wow, you look pretty miserable right now. Sorry about that.”

“Should I be happy?” The sour words dropped off as heavily as a bowling ball from San Lang’s lips. 

“I hope not,” Xie Lian said, clearly offended. “Otherwise I’d think you were a sadist. But it’s completely fine if you need to feel crummy for a bit. So do I.

“Tell you what, let’s both feel sorry for ourselves together. We’ll wait it out. Then, when we feel less sad, we’ll figure out what to do about it.” 

San Lang did chuckle a bit at that, and Xie Lian beamed; it felt seldom that he managed to say the right thing. Maybe he’d only said what Xie Lian had so desperately wanted to hear for the longest time.

The two sat in a silence that was more companionable than awkward. Then Xie Lian scrubbed at his face and continued: 

“…well, Feng Xin and Mu Qing were mad as hell when they finally dragged the truth out of me. They noticed I was completely off for awhile. And they did try to help me, they really did, but nothing worked. Like I said, even the police weren’t any good. Feng Xin and Mu Qing would flank me like the secret service in the halls and try to cheer me up, but they just couldn’t really…”

“…really understand.”

“Right. You see, my parents eventually found out I had a stalker because these awful letters kept coming in the mail. I wasn’t even safe at home. And then p-packages kept coming. Just…things like b-broken glass, dead insects, creepy outfits, or a b-baby doll in pieces. My mami=a eventually found out because she found the stuff I kept shoving at the bottom of the garbage can…my folks freaked.”

“How nice for you.” The words were dripping in sarcasm.

Xie Lian shot San Lang a dark look. “Hey! What else were they supposed to do?”

“What indeed?” San Lang murmured, bowing his head until his bangs fell over his eyes. “I’m sorry. Really, I am. Just…please. Go on.”

Xie Lian didn’t want to continue in the slightest, and he very nearly said so again. Still, this had festered inside for so many months and he couldn’t stand it any longer. Not after tonight.

“My parents put me in the hot seat. I said I d-didn’t know whom the stalker was…if they knew, they’d at least try pulling me out of school. At least. I honestly thought mami was ready to recant her general disapproval of decapitation. But pulling me out of school wasn’t really wasn’t an option. F or starters our town is tiny, if you remember correctly. My parents would have to move to get me to a new school, and I didn’t want that. My dad wanted to be near my aunt’s hospital. The next town over is Westwood, and that’s over an hour away because we have the privilege of living in nowhere. I just…even if I were away from  Jun Wu, he’d find some way to get revenge. And anyway, what happened to me just wouldn’t…aagh! God, it’s impossible to say what I mean!” 

“The worst thing about something as ghastly as what happened to you is the fact that even after it’s technically over, it doesn’t stop happening to you. You don’t stop reliving it.” Slowly, as if of its own accord, San Lang’s hand reached for Xie Lian’s, paused, and then hurriedly drew away again.

“No. You don’t. So I just…didn’t see any point in telling them the truth. I really thought I just had to wait until graduation. I had no idea he was going to go…this far.”

San Lang bowed his head. “Thank you for that.”

“Ah...you're welcome?" 

San Lang cleared his throat. "You're still dripping wet. I can grab you a blanket to wrap in if you like.”

"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to get your furniture wet—"

San Lang shook his head. "Seriously, don’t worry. I just don't want you to catch your death."

Humming, Xie Lian happily peeled off his coat and shirt with a sigh of relief. San Lang stared at him with eyes the size of dinner plates before he grabbed the wet garments before hurrying out the room. Strange boy.

The sound of a snap made Xie Lian jump, and he turned to look at a roaring fire which had certainly not been there before.

"Oh, you have one of those cool modern electric fires," he said eagerly as San Lang returned and tossed him a quilt. Xie Lian happily bundled up like a caterpillar. He thought the fireplace looked ancient, but you could make anything look like anything for the right amount of money. "That's awesome—you can just flick on one anytime you want. My dad makes me haul wood inside if we want one. Pretty sure that’s a violation of child labor laws.

"Yeah. Yes, um—that's a relatively new addition. This house is historical, so this town can't raze it. Not that anyone would care to, anyway—this place is in the middle of nowhere, just as you said."

"The middle of nowhere in the middle of nowhere," Xie Lian pointed out, and was pleased when San Lang laughed. A little more color did trickle into Xie Lian’s face as the stranger poured what smelled strongly of anti-septic into another cloth, and leaned forward to wipe it on his face. It stung fiercely; he must be raked raw. "Sorry, sorry," he apologized as Xie Lian yelped, fanning himself desperately. "Have to clean these."

Xie Lian inwardly whined, but the prospect of looking like someone whom just attempted to give a cat a bath made the pain semi-worthwhile. "Does it look bad?"

"This will just take a moment. Promise.”

"Wai—“ San Lang cupped Xie Lian’s cheek to hold his head steady. He prayed the latter didn't feel it burn as San Lang dabbed at the slashes.

San Lang slowly withdrew, reaching for a glass on the table which was filled with something dark and pushed it into Xie Lian's hands. Xie Lian was still too distracted by the stinging to notice the glass had been empty just seconds before. And San Lang had not poured anything. “Here—this’ll warm you up a bit more.”

Xie Lian’s eyelashes brushed his cheekbones. This was contraband, but well-deserved just the same. He took a tiny sip of the maroon contents and coughed at the dry tang; he seldom this tasted outside of communion.

San Lang wandered away to lean against the wall, perching his foot against the wall and folding his arms under his head. The picture of nonchalance.

"You know," He turned to look at the flames, expression inscrutable. "I've never met someone whom just…came out and said that before, like it was nothing." He gazed at Xie Lian again, looking almost hungry and nope, Xie Lian was not going to even consider that. "It's not something I've managed yet."

Xie Lian frowned, confused. "Come out and—" His eyes widened. "You…"

San Lang dipped his head in the smallest of nods. "Yes. Though I've never told my parents. It—" Now it was his turn to visibly struggle. "I'm certain you already know how hard it is."

"…you can't tell them? At all?"

"I never could. Not if I wanted to stay in this house."

Xie Lian’s heart broke not for the first time tonight. Here was a math problem: How many more fractures did those pieces have left in them? "Oh God. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

“Me too.”

Xie Lian squirmed with discomfort as he took another swig of wine. He had to admit he’d simply taken it for granted that supporting your kids to the death was just what parents were supposed to do. Parents whom were ready to disown their queer or trans kids normally belonged in sad movies or TV dramas wherein at least one of the gay protagonists died.

Before he could think about it Xie Lian hurled a pillow at the wall. Ironically, he thought for the first time that night how unfair life really was.

“Was that really necessary?” San Lang asked, sounding more perplexed than upset. “The least you can do is not throw my stuff everywhere. Are you some kind of lightweight?

“Yes it was, No it isn’t, and no I’m not,” snapped Xie Lian, swaying fists rising at the ready. He jabbed at the air like a boxer. ‘Bitches, I will fight you.’ “San Lang, it’s not fair, you don’t deserve to live like this!” His voice rose to a shout. “No one does! You saved me!”

San Lang admired his shoes. His brow was creased, but he almost looked pleased. “In case you haven’t noticed, the universe doesn’t exactly work on a bartering system. It’s an arbitrary genetic lottery. It’s no good complaining about it; what matters is how you work with what you’ve got.”

“Not when other people are getting lemons and you get dealt…something way nastier than lemons. Like grapefruit. Or my friend Shiro’s cooking; I once tasted something he tried cooking for the martial arts bake sale. After I handed out some free samples, people paid him to never bake again.” Xie Lian reflexively smacked his fist against his wound and nearly doubled over in agony.

San Lang mutely plucked the wineglass out of Xie Lian’s loosening grip. Xie Lian looked up at him with his copyrighted get-out-of-jail face. “Look. Just because you got dealt a crappy hand at birth doesn’t mean you’re helpless to change things. Or that other people can’t hand you a card or a lemon from their backyard tree.”

“You’re seriously being solipsistic here. How much do I have to pay you to put a cork in it? You can’t do anything to help me. No one can. And you don’t need to get involved. It would be pointless at best.”

“I don’t know what ‘solipsistic’ means, but if I can somehow help you out with your situation, I have to. And it’s not just because you saved me, but because no one deserves to live in fear. Well, okay,  Jun Wu makes a compelling case. And if your parents are holding a knife over your head, then I want to protect you.”

San Lang made a derisive noise. “You. Protect me. That’s rich.”

Xie Lian refrained from chucking a pillow at San Lang’s face with great difficulty. “My parents always told me if a PFLAG friend found themselves living in a toxic environment or out of a home, they’d have a place in our guest room and a space at our table.” Now San Lang’s face was chiseled with grief. “A person’s job is to help a sister out.”

“Hey!”

“And that’s not some big favor you need to feel ashamed or too proud to accept. When you took me in, I bet you didn’t do it because you wanted me to owe you a solid or that it made you a saint or something. You helped me because it felt like basic human decency right? And you’d never have bothered if you thought it was useless to try. Look, decency’s just your job as a person. So it should be mine to stand in your corner and sock your mean folks if you need me to. Or if you don’t need me to, actually. Mu Qing would actually probably be happy to bite them for you if you asked.”

San Lang placed a hand on the grandfather clock, and Xie Lian wondered if San Lang were trying to steady himself this time. “Wow. You’re some idealist, Xie Lian.”

“Thanks.”

“It’s not a compliment, just an observation,” he said shortly, glancing over as the clock struck seven: Dong, dong, dong, dong, dong, dong, dong. “I’m afraid you’re much, much too late to help me with my parents and living situation, but I won’t pretend I don’t appreciate the sentiment.”

"Do you know for sure?" Xie Lian couldn't help but ask. "That they wouldn't…ever accept…"

"One hundred and ten percent," San Lang said offhandedly, though there was a slight tremor. "My parents have made it perfectly clear to me what they think of homosexuals."

"What's that?"

"That they should be gassed."

Xie Lian attempted to stand. San Lang strode back to the sofa and pushed Xie Lian down again. “What about ‘you need to stay down’ says ‘try, try again?’

But as San Lang leaned over him, Xie Lian took his opportunity to hug him. San Lang froze, arms gluing to his sides, bony frame abruptly tensing as if for a fight. His hand plunged into his pocket and grasped long knife handle. But Xie Lian let out a muffled sob from where his face was buried against San Lang’s jacket. “Oh. Oh my God. K-San Lang, I…”

San Lang’s grip loosened as Xie Lian’s grip tightened. The sobs started ripping free again, making his own thin frame quake as if he were on the verge of a rupture. Xie Lian garbled something utterly unintelligible as San Lang helplessly looked around the room, eyes dilating.

Hiccupping, Xie Lian reluctantly pulled away. With any luck San Lang didn’t notice his black shirt was now shiny from tears and mucus.

“And you had to grow up with that? Oh…” He bumped his forehead against San Lang’s midsection, snuffling. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

San Lang hurriedly tapped his palm twice against the crown of Xie Lian’s head. Hot tears were falling thick and fast against him. Slowly, very slowly, San Lang’s shoulders drooped from where they’d hunched at his ears just seconds ago, and managed another pat on Xie Lian’s back. Then he lightly rested a hand there.

“This is happening?” Xie Lian blubbered something and San Lang unsuccessfully tried deciphering it. “Um. This is happening. Are you seriously making this much noise over someone you literally just met?”

Xie Lian fell back, arms still wrapped around San Lang’s frame. “Of course I am! How are you still alive? Please tell me you’re almost eighteen and can get out of this hellhole soon. Again, if you need help, I’ll help you escape.”

San Lang still hadn’t really relaxed in the embrace, but he did tolerate it. Xie Lian was briefly reminded of how bewildered Mu Qing when he and Feng Xin first introduced her to hugging that would shame a full-grown bear. Soon after her reciprocal hugs were just as tight (i.e, tighter) and she clung to them like a koala.

“Seriously. You really don't need to apologize for something that isn’t your fault. But…thank you.” San Lang gently extracted himself, and Xie Lian had a refresher of that fixated stare from their initial meeting reappearing. He wasn’t certain if it were flattering or slightly disconcerting that now San Lang was looking at him with all the fascination of a zoo patron finding an exotic species. He suddenly felt himself wriggling under a pin.

"Are they…are they here tonight?" Xie Lian asked nervously. “Your folks.” 

The flames suddenly surged with a roar in the hearth. "No. For better or for worse, it's just you and I. Let’s say they're away….they’ve been away for awhile." He snorted near-inaudibly. "And I'm afraid they took the car with them."

This was a chalk slash on Xie Lian’s mental board for ‘Reasons to be Relieved’ and ‘Reasons to Accidentally Drop the Nearby Fire Poker on San Lang’s Parents’ Heads 11 Times.’ "When will they be back?"

“My parents are actually…out of the country right now." He grinned weakly. Xie Lian didn’t realize until much, much later that San Lang never answered the second question. “They're on their own winter vacation, and I'm…I'm on mine. It's peaceful enough here and I can do all the reading I like, but it's felt like a very, very, very long vacation."

"…I'm…"

San Lang actually poked Xie Lian on the forehead and Xie Lian reflexively swiped at him.. "I'm going to start charging you money every time you apologize for things you can’t change. But don't worry; even if they're not here, I have enough food to last us through a nuclear holocaust and life in a post-apocalyptic society."

That wasn't very reassuring to Xie Lian. The sentiment must've registered on his face, because San Lang added, "You don't have to worry about anyone tossing you out. They haven't been back for ages, and even if they were headed our way, the snow would keep them from coming. I honestly haven't seen so much in years."

Suddenly Xie Lian remembered his own situation, and mentally awarded himself the title of the stupidest person alive for having briefly forgotten it. But he'd been genuinely moved for San Lang's troubles and his mind whirring with possible solutions; how much he wanted to call in the calvary to take San Lang away from here. "Do you have a phone? I need…"

He was faced with the awful truth;  Jun Wu couldn't be allowed to threaten anyone else and he'd have to speak up. Maybe he could bypass the police and contact the FBI instead; they’d certainly be more impartial than Jun Wu’s stupid brother. “I’ve got to call my parents. It’s way past my curfew now, and they’re probably losing their shit already.”

San Lang's face fell a little at that. "I'm afraid…we do not. Have a telephone, I mean."

Xie Lian’s mind wiped itself immaculately clean.

"How do you…" he began, and the concept was so utterly alien to him he briefly considered the possibility that San Lang were an alien too. At least half-alien. "Your parents left you here alone without a phone? Not even a cell phone?"

"…I don't have a…cell phone." San Lang faltered. "I mean, we did have a phone once, but it was disconnected. And no one ever really bothered to replace it."

"…but you have Wi-Fi," Xie Lian heard himself croak. It sounded like a strangled plea. "And I can still send a message to the authorities via email—"

"I'm afraid not. I don't have any of these things."

Xie Lian waited to hear an added ‘Early April Fool’s!’ Or, ‘Late April Fools!’ But as San Lang steadily held his gaze and looked so genuinely contrite, Xie Lian re-learned the cruel lesson that however much you wanted something there was certainly no guarantee that you would get it. Just the opposite, really. The story of his life.

Xie Lian inhaled sharply, but the air didn't seem to reach his lungs. Inhale. Inhale. Inhale. Something was missing. His head wobbled on his shoulders and his teeth rattled a little.

"Xie Lian? Xie Lian, breathe. Look at me."

Oh. Breathing was good. He barely managed to obey. San Lang’s dark eyes—they were warmer than Xie Lian imagined up close—held his own. “Steady. Hold your breath, just for a moment, just a moment…let it out again. Hold—I know, I know, it's hard, but it will be okay, hold, that's good, hold, and slowly release. Very good. Another. And again. Remember, slow, deep breaths. And a bit deeper than that, from your diaphragm. That's good.” San Lang gave him an approving shoulder jostle. “You've done very well tonight.”

“....I don’t know what I did well, but I’m sure I did, thanks. Uh, what was it again?” 

“Call it intuition, but I suspect anyone else in your situation would be dead by now.” Xie Lian suddenly felt a glass being pressed into his hands. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but you should probably have a few more sips.”

Xie Lian held his glass in both hands like a sippy cup, and unsteadily gulped it down, sloshing on his front. Why did wine connoisseurs pretend they could taste notes of orange peel or oak when wine really just tasted like wine? But he was profoundly relieved that someone else was more or less in charge for a change because he was on the verge of falling to pieces. He savored the warm bloom in the pit of his stomach and the quickest sensation of San Lang’s hand stroking his back.

"There really isn't…you sure you really don't have wii-fii at all?"

San Lang hesitated again, and then drew a wet strand of Xie Lian's hair back. "No."

"…any neighbors nearby whom do?"

"I'm afraid not. This house was built by my grandfather to be a summer home far, far away from his business partners at the logging firm he owned in town. Otherwise, they were forever calling him for help and advice even when he was on vacation…I think that's why my grandmother disconnected the phone to begin with. No one else has bothered building out here since, and believe you me, I've wandered the area a long time."

San Lang rose and went to look out the window. Xie Lian wobbled as he stood again in alarm, arms circling like windmills to stay upright.

"What are you doing? Close them! He might see you!"

"Not in this snow, he won't," retorted San Lang as he pulled back the drape a bit more so that Xie Lian could see. Xie Lian gawked, and wondered faintly if what he saw now was proof of the existence of an all-powerful, omniscient deity. Although whether or not said deity loved or hated him tonight remained entirely yet to be seen.

Enormous, fat snowflakes, the kind that looked like they belonged in a snow globe, were spinning from the heavens in droves. The wind was rising, whistling, and while Xie Lian’s spirits lifted slightly with the knowledge that an incoming blizzard might deter Jun Wu from pursuing him, it would also strand Xie Lian here.

For who knew how long.

He swayed. He was in the middle of the wilderness, with no phone, no internet, no neighbors, his car miles away and concealed near a forest no one was likely to visit anytime soon. Not in this weather. Only San Lang's soothing admonitions that he remember to breathe kept Xie Lian from another full-scale panic attack.

Xie Lian closed his eyes, the full implications washing over him.  Jun Wu certainly wouldn't divulge that Xie Lian was missing because he'd tried to assault and disembowel him. His mind spun with dread; Feng Xin and Mu Qing would make a beeline for his old haunts when Xie Lian failed to return home that night, but no one could tell them anything definitive.

Even Xie Lian didn't know where he was.

He’d so been looking forward to the prospect of having a snow day after watching that morning's forecast. Christ, but that seemed so long ago. There had even been the prospect of a few days off, considering the wind chill factor that was going to hit…

"Where's my coat? I should go, while I have the chance." Xie Lian said faintly, opening his eyes again. "I…I have to make my way back, before it gets too bad…follow the tracks I left before they disappear tonight."

"Don't be ridiculous," San Lang retorted at once, letting the curtain fall again. "And lie back down, Xie Lian."

"I managed before."

"Barely! It's a wonder you escaped at all from that menace!"

"…do you have a snow-blower? I'd accept a dog sled team at this point."

San Lang’s pitying eyes told him before he'd finished speaking that it was no use. "It's already looking terrible out, and I'm not about to let you go into a storm hurt and with a…a devil out for your blood." San Lang shook his head in a firm no. "I'm sorry, Xie Lian."

Xie Lian knew San Lang was right, but that didn't stop him from nearly toppling to his ground like some stupid Victorian woman with the vapors and why did he feel so fucking fragile tonight when he'd made it a point for so long to be strong? Even when he'd been physically sick in the mornings with fear before school, Xie Lian hid it. Now he couldn't stop feeling as weak as if there'd never be anything again.

The back of his knees hit the couch and he fell back upon it again, hands gripping his hair. Admittedly, temporary confinement didn't seem like such a bad trade-off for not being killed, but snowbound. He was snowbound, for an entire night—possibly many. Though he understood  Jun Wu's insanity was not the least bit his fault, there was a hot rush of guilt and panic as he imagined his parents frantically waiting for a son who wouldn’t come home that night.

A second later San Lang was standing in front of him again, thumbing away the fresh wave of tears. "Whatever it might mean from someone you've never met hither to tonight, I won't let Jun Wu in, and I certainly won't allow him to harm you. I promise. Oh…I'll protect you, I promise."

And at that moment San Lang cradled him and allowed Xie Lian to bury his face in his shoulder. He rocked back and forth, murmuring comforting nonsense. It was well (or really, really not) that Xie Lian didn’t care how tightly he was being clutched, or that he couldn't see the large, dazzling smile slowly unfurling on San Lang’s face, burning eyes bright with near-manic ecstasy.

~o*oOo*o~

  Much later, Xie Lian was wrapped in a wooly afghan, holding a hot mug of milk and honey (and possibly something a little stronger, judging by the smoky, bittersweet aftertaste.) A plate of untouched cookies sat on the table. The two remained curled up on the sofa, gazing at the fire in silence that was blessedly more companionable than awkward. 

San Lang was absently gliding his hand soothingly up and down Xie Lian’s back, albeit much more slowly now. The two were close enough that their thighs glanced off each other, a fact Xie Lian was acutely aware of. His stomach was turning somersaults once again, but certainly not unpleasantly so. And his face was beginning to hurt from smiling, although he was only dimly aware of it.

Being the only openly-gay student in school, or one of so few in this tiny thicket of gas stations and fast food joints of a town for that matter, occasionally made Xie Lian feel like some sort of rare, exotic bird behind glass people gawked at. And while Xie Lian had no problem flaunting his inner-Rainbow Brite, as Mu Qing so thoughtfully coined it, the fact there was simply no one openly like himself within a thousand-mile radius occasionally made him ache with quiet desperation.

When he climbed out of his bedroom onto the roof and looked at the stars, every inner-inch protested that he wasn’t meant to live here, even though he recoiled at the idea of leaving his family too-far behind.  

Xie Lian flicked his eyes over to San Lang, whose eyes were reflecting the firelight. Xie Lian shifted closer by a hair of an inch.

And as dear as his best friends were, they could hardly really grasp the reality that so much of the world despised Xie Lian for simply being alive.

His head sagged and very nearly bumped against San Lang’s shoulder; Xie Lian all but squeaked and straightened like a soldier at attention. He wished on Ruoye’s dearly-departed soul that San Lang owed any trembling on his part to be due from his ordeal, and not from the fact that another gay man was willingly touching him.

Without wanting to bury him alive.

The clock ticked soothingly nearby as the wind roared and whimpered outside. This safe-soft-stillness with someone so irrevocably-kind, however much San Lang would protest the charge, was delightful. Xie Lian inadvertently made himself wistful in wishing to stay frozen in this moment.

Xie Lian fought against eyelids which seemed determined to sew themselves shut. But at last he self-consciously cleared his throat and San Lang looked at him. It was still difficult to speak.

"I'm…" San Lang thumbed a stray tear away, touch lingering in a caress. Xie Lian’s breath hitched. "I didn't mean to sound ungrateful earlier," he apologized fervently. "Or that I minded spending a…little while here. Thank you." Somewhat timidly—after all, he'd never held another guy's hand since it mattered—he took San Lang's, their fingers tangling. "I would’ve died without you. If not because of hypothermia, because of homophobia." He snorted quietly. "If I had to run into another gay person on the run, I'm glad he isn't the murderous, self-loathing type."

Slowly, the earnestness on San Lang’s face melted, and his mouth abruptly spasmed in a near-berserk contortion. Furious pupils split open wide, and he spat, "Hypocrites." 

Spooked, Xie Lian uneasily made to draw away but San Lang’s hold on Xie Lian’s hand tightened.

The room's temperature seemed to plummet as the flames shuddered warningly, but that was probably Xie Lian superimposing his own growing dread as San Lang ranted, “Filthy, conniving hypocrites. They always manage to point a finger at someone else. It's not just disgusting, it's evil. " He shook his head and leaned in close, close, way too close for Xie Lian’s comfort. His voice dipped into a snarl.

"Hell isn't enough, not when they make hell on Earth. Someone has to do something about it."

"...um…that'd be nice," Xie Lian agreed warily, disconcerted by the fact that San Lang’s voice was stained with venom. And for a fleeting, frightening instant he wondered if he ought to have taken his chances out in the forest.

San Lang’s lacerating gaze kept Xie Lian wriggling like an insect pinned to the wall. Not at all sure what to do, Xie Lian settled for pulling San Lang into another careful hug, timidly patting his back. 

Why was he catnip for crazies? Did Xie Lian force kittens to burrow into the Earth for blood diamonds in a prior lifetime? Maybe I forced orphans to do that. Not just orphans, but musically-inclined orphans. The worst kind of orphan there is!

"But for every Jun Wu there's someone like you, and that does give me some hope for mankind." The heat in the room rose perceptibly by a few inches. "And trust me, that hope can be in short supply, especially when there’s so much scum about that’s about as useful as a ham sandwich at a bar mitzvah.”

San Lang let out a startled laugh, and Xie Lian smiled faintly as he pulled back. To his profound relief there wasn't a trace left of the antagonism that had chiseled San Lang's features into something Stygian and cruel. It was like comparing cherubim to an actual angel of death.

Xie Lian’s eyes wandered back to the windows, and with a nasty crash remembered again where the real fear was. "I wonder if he's lost by now." His cold-blistered hands twisted in wool. "If he is and stumbles on this place, he's…he's going to break in.  Jun Wu's…calling him a complete psychopath is generous."

San Lang’s eyes scissored into Xie Lian's again. "He won't come in. No. If he tries, I'm prepared."

Xie Lian bit his lip so hard the skin nearly broke. The idea of San Lang harming anyone, even the likes og Jun Wu, was appalling.

"Okay. Needless to say, I don't want you to...resort to that." Was it just Xie Lian’s imagination, or was San Lang suppressing a grim smile that said But I very well would?  

"We are allowed to defend ourselves if he breaks and enters."

“Why do I get the feeling you’d do that even if we weren’t?”

“I think my estimation of your IQ just rose a few points.”

“Hey!” Xie Lian dipped his fingers in his mug of milk and flicked them at San Lang, whom flicked him in turn in the forehead in turn. "Ow! That's not—are you sure you don't have—"

"I'm afraid not." San Lang said seriously, propping his elbow atop the couch. "The most we could hope to do is go outside with some seed, hope a carrier pigeon spots us in the dark in the dead of winter, and send a message for help that way."

At first Xie Lian goggled at him; a second later a giggle bubbled out despite himself. San Lang tilted his head, looking pleased.

"Right now your wet things are hanging over the radiator, so you’ll need some new clothes. I, ah, wouldn't mind you letting you borrow some of mine. They might be a bit big on you, but a preferable alternative to you getting sick. But before that, you can take a bath if you like.” 

A bath sounded heavenly, as did new clothes; Xie Lian was still wrapped up in a blanket burrito. "Thank you," he said hoarsely, knowing he could hawk every item in his wardrobe and it still wouldn't be nearly enough to repay San Lang. "Do you have a dryer? That might work faster than drip-drying."

"Well, they should be dry by morning in any case. We have a spare bedroom you're more than welcome to use."

Xie Lian’s eyes rolled back in barely-suppressed glee. "God, you're an angel and a saint, and I don’t know if I believe in either. You've got to have a boyfriend."

San Lang’s face steadily darkened again, and Xie Lian almost asked if San Lang could kindly point him to the nearest window for him to throw himself out of. Then again, the snow might break his fall. Maybe San Lang would dare him to try. Maybe Xie Lian wouldn’t blame him.   

"…no," said San Lang bitterly, voice barely perceptible. “I do not. Anymore.”

He helped a sheepish Xie Lian to his uninjured foot and wrapped a bracing arm around him. Giddying at the contact, Xie Lian hoped the trip would take some time yet.

They hobbled to the foyer, and Xie Lian now noticed a fiercely-sparkling chandelier that was a veritable spider-web of glass stars, with trickling ropes of pearl and crystal.

The exact preservation of this house must’ve been San Lang’s grandmother’s dying wish. Xie Lian thought that the commitment to authenticity in this home was incredible; the black and white portraits on the walls were all in sepia-dulled frames. The floral embroideries were a bit much though. This place seemed like a historical home bored students might troop through during a field trip.

"San Lang.” He frantically noted that his mouth seemed to be moving of its own accord. He was a dummy after all. "Your parents would've left you…here alone …without any point of contact, whatsoever." It came out as a statement rather than a question.

"Yes." San Lang shrugged. "It's just the way things are."

"I'm..." He shook his head as they came to a stop, peering up the stairs. "I'm just…concerned on your behalf." Another deep breath. "And sad. For your sake. You must've been so lonely."

"…I don’t want your pity, Xie Lian. But thank you for that anyway."

"There's nothing to thank me for," Xie Lian muttered grudgingly. He couldn't help but wonder why in the world San Lang's home lacked such vital connections to the outside world, especially so far away from civilization. And he'd never visited a house that didn't have at least one television. Maybe San Lang’s family belonged to an ultra-strict religion that prohibited modern conveniences? It might explain why this stiff and starched excuse of a house was some social conservative’s wet dream. “Hey San Lang? Are your parents seriously religiously-observant, or something?”  

"In so far as Episcopalians are, which is a far cry from being an observant Baptist. Do you like it?" San Lang asked, gesturing around. He looked a bit worried.

"I do,” Xie Lian said, a little too brightly. “When was the house built, if you don't mind my asking?"

"It was started in the late 1890s, and finished around probably 1908 if I remember correctly. So that means….this house is…how old now?"

Xie Lian did some mental math. "Somewhere between ‘Oh God’ and ‘Whoa.’ Over a hundred years old."

San Lang froze. A violent shudder passed through him a second later, and his arms promptly fell.

Xie Lian flapped as futilely as a penguin attempting flight to stay upright, but nearly toppled over before San Lang grabbed him by the scruff of his neck. 

"Sorry,” San Lang’s voice came out much too small. “I’m sorry ….I just….”

Eyes watering, Xie Lian’s surprise nonetheless abated somewhat as San Lang draped an arm around his shoulder again. While San Lang avoided his eyes, Xie Lian thought he almost looked on the verge of tears. “Hey. It’s nothing to be embarrassed about. In fact, I think it’s fascinating. Even if the décor doesn’t really seem like…you.” 

"So you say. And well, you can certainly argue my parents won't get with the times." San Lang gave him a small smile, and did Xie Lian's mouth have to go dry every time he did that? "But you know what I think?"

"What?"

"That you're still wet and will die of pneumonia soon if you're not careful," San Lang teased, and without warning he scooped Xie Lian into his arms.

"Aaaah!”

"Sorry." San Lang gestured cheerfully up the spiral staircase. "It's going to take forever to get you up otherwise."

"I—oh for the love of-I’m not an invalid! I promise I can lean on the banister."

"Yes, well, you can also tumble down the stairs. You're hurt enough as it is."

"But I'm too heavy," protested Xie Lian breathlessly as San Lang slowly ascended. 

“Nonsense.”

Flustered, Xie Lian lay still in San Lang’s arms, mentally altering the ugly wallpaper in order to distract himself. He was admittedly hoping he didn't swoon against San Lang's breast with excitement. Goodness, years of nothing, not even a girl whom ever really wanted anything to do with him save for that classmate Xie Lian gave a cupcake to in second grade. And now there was a near-stranger carrying him up a tower.

Or basically up a basement’s steps, considering just how deep this building’s bones sank in the snow, but that was close enough.

Xie Lian silently contemplated San Lang. This kind of sentiment would’ve made him positively swoon whilst reading one of the romance novels he stashed underneath his bed like contraband. In real life however, it was mildly…well, if certainly not-unwelcome, it took him aback. 

Being carried up the stairs, being so carefully held as if he were something precious , was baffling. San Lang was baffling.

Probably sensing his stare, San Lang peered down at him in surprise and Xie Lian inspected his fingertips with an inflamed face. He went back to imagining the walls had an astronaut-dinosaur-fighting-robots print.

This moment left him at a loss, struck dumb. It was downright disarming to be looked at with such fascination when he felt he’d done precious little to earn it.

When they reached the second floor San Lang carried him down a long hall lined with doors. Xie Lian was admittedly relieved there weren’t any torches or portraits with moving eyeballs to be seen.

"My advice to you is to take a long soak and come out when you're feeling better. In the meantime I'll make you some soup."

"Oh, you really don't have to go through all tha—"

"No, I'm just heating it up, really. Please don't worry. I imagine sprinting through the woods has a means of building up an appetite." A second later San Lang looked utterly mortified and he cursed under his breath, shaking his head. "God, I didn't mean to make light of your horrible experience. I'm sorry."

"We should get an 'Overly-Excessive Sorry' jar. We'll have it filled by morning."

San Lang chuckled and they entered the bathroom, which was an enormous and near-empty chamber. This time the walls were pale, bare and cracked. The toilet had a rusty chain in lieu of a tab, the porcelain sink was tiny, and above it was a very large mirror with tinted glass in a baroque-style frame. An enormous bathtub which looked larger than Xie Lian’s bed at home rested on clawed feet.

Xie Lian carefully dropped to one foot to lean against the sink as San Lang retrieved towels and extra soap from behind the mirror. "Here's an extra toothbrush. I'll get some pajamas. Um." He ran a hand through his hair and cleared his throat more than what Xie Lian thought was strictly necessary. "I'll just…lead you to the tub and…yes. You can…run the water…while I…while I cook. And things. You’ll—you’ll like the things. Ah, food. I’ll cook food. Food is good.”

San Lang extended his hand, which Xie Lian looked at blankly for a long moment before slowly allowing San Lang to lead him to the tub. San Lang to his credit stepped away the moment Xie Lian grabbed the rim, his knuckles turning white. "Just shout if you need anything.”

"Thank you. I can't tell you how much I appreciate—"

Xie Lian lapsed mid-sentence as he turned; San Lang had already disappeared. There was a set of folded pajamas neatly lying on the floor, toiletries stacked atop them.

Xie Lian slowly picked up the red, black and white-striped shirt. Faded but warm. They smelled like San Lang, and he pressed his cheek against the fabric.

Then he clumsily stripped and filled the tub, eagerly sinking in the hot water and hissing sharply through clenched teeth as it rushed over his poor scratched limbs and the inflamed stub of an ankle. His lips parted slightly as he hummed dreamily, eyes rolling back as steam wafted around him.

This was the least-likely scenario Xie Lian could've dreamt this nightmare would’ve ended in.  He was and wasn't pleased to stay; San Lang was slightly-peculiar, but attentive and gracious to a fault, and Xie Lian would've loved having dinner with him.

Under drastically different circumstances.

Pruning fingertips wandered to his spine, and then to his lips. What might that kind of touch be like, in lieu of a dangerous sociopath’s whom—

Xie Lian immediately plunged underwater, opening his eyes in the gloom as his hair swirled lazily around.

He re-emerged, frowning slightly and flesh prickling. He hastily lathered his soap in hopes of creating some foam to cover himself; he felt curiously exposed, as if he were taking a bath in front of a live audience. Maybe it was due to the fact that he was naked in a house with only one other occupant, one he couldn’t stop thinking about.

These walls couldn't talk, but it felt as if they had eyes, one for every cell and nerve ending of him. All fixated on him. Xie Lian cursed as the grainy soap kept slipping from his fingertips, and tried not to remember why he stopped showering at school shortly after Jun Wu graciously declared a vendetta on Xie Lian’s life.

And, Xie Lian sadly acknowledged as he scrubbed his face (he felt like Lady Macbeth, unable to remove the filth regardless of however much he scoured himself) his right to feel safe anywhere. He’d been reduced to a wild rabbit whose best defense was to bolt when he saw Jun Wu waving merrily at him in school, or temple, or the grocery.

That lazy smile, those eyes that twinkled as if he and Xie Lian were sharing a particularly good joke, found their way into every room Xie Lian triple-checked was locked. Xie Lian hadn’t dared inspect the bathroom mirror tonight, because he knew they’d be lingering over his shoulder, contemplating him with patient amusement.

They shone in the dark of a seventeen year old’s closet, and beneath his bed. And they said, I am everywhere, and everything, including your sleepless nights. You are alive for now, but your having that life is enough to make me want to tenderly take it apart, piece by piece. Because I can. Because I’m bigger than you. 

But I love you. In my little way.    

There were no safe spaces left. Just people naive enough to believe in them.

Xie Lian’s heightened paranoia was probably a natural response after his flight, and he couldn’t help but wish his arm was wound over San Lang’s shoulders again. Without it being weird. Being carried like he was all of five had actually been a little weird. It was too vulnerable a position for him to be comfortable with. That sure as hell better not have been San Lang establishing himself as Alpha-gay of this household.    

There was something mildly unsettling about this home, and about San Lang himself. Certainly that wasn't fair, not when San Lang was his savior and there were dentist waiting rooms more intimidating than this doily-draped house was on the inside. But it was true just the same.

Why though? Maybe it was just because San Lang had creepy, homophobic and neglectful parents whom deserved nothing less than what Feng Xin called cancer-aids. But you couldn't pick your parents; it was hardly San Lang’s fault. Part of Xie Lian’s unease could obviously be attributed to the fact that this place was clearly unsafe for a gay youth, despite the fact the culprits were away.

 ('That they should be gassed.') 

That was very possibly the worst thing he’d ever heard. Xie Lian pressed his brow against the warm tub. San Lang needed to be taken away from those pernicious people, and this lonely house. There could be nothing for him here. 

o-O-o

By the time the water ran tepid and Xie Lian unwillingly pulled the chain-plug free, he realized he was trapped; his puffy pink ankle hurt so much he knew it wouldn’t bear his weight any longer. He gingerly perched on his good foot and gripped the bathtub rim for purchase as he attempted to roll over the side.

But the porcelain was much too slippery, and he kept sliding down the long walls of the tub like a toddler. After several attempts Xie Lian swore and banged his fist against the porcelain floor in pure frustration. He must look completely ridiculous, and if San Lang saw him he’d die out of sheer shame if nothing—

—he caught a flash of black and Xie Lian’s eyes swiveled up and San Lang was gazing down at him. Xie Lian’s back hit the tub wall as he let out a a strangled noise; no, not San Lang, just his eyes, those dark eyes glittering in the ceiling—

But just as Xie Lian opened his mouth to scream he blinked and the eyes vanished. Breathing spiking, pupils shrinking to pinpricks, he curled up in a painful ball and remained as deathly still as a child whom believes their blankets provide some protection against white-eyed monsters waiting to eat your screaming too.  

There was a knock at the door. “Xie Lian? Everything okay in there?”

Xie Lian wondered frenziedly if this heart-battering was what his aunt experienced during her cardiac arrest. At the prolonged silence, San Lang knocked again, sounding worried:

“Are you decent? Um…do you need anything?” At least San Lang had the courtesy to sound half as uncomfortable as Xie Lian felt.

It was hard to know which was worse: The fear or this profound humiliation.

 “Xie Lian? Please tell me you’re okay in there.”

He couldn’t speak or move. San Lang spoke again, sounding genuinely apprehensive. “I just wanted to let you know the tea and food is ready. Did you want me to take it to your room?”

A pregnant pause—a taxi throbbing, waiting.

“Um, you’re really scaring me right now. Is something wrong? Please tell me you didn’t drown in the bathtub.”

“If I did, I’d hardly be able to tell you that,” Xie Lian called back at last. Maybe he ought to just stay in here all night; it would be a decent tradeoff for any remaining shreds of dignity. But the prospect of imagining a colony of eyes surrounding him here won out. “Uh, San Lang, I think I’m…stuck.”

“….what?” The other boy sounded stunned, as if he’d never heard of such a thing. “What do you mean stuck? I…oh.”   There was a thud, as if San Lang had head-doored. “I’m such a thoughtless creep. I ought’ve—I don’t know, have given you a broomstick you could’ve used as a crutch, or a chair…. Xie Lian, I’m so sorry. Did…did you need some help? I can help you towel off and dress.”

Oh, God. Oh dear God. This was the stuff of never-ending nightmares: First being chased through the woods by a maniac, and then being buck-naked in front of a young man whom had to heave him out of a bathtub as if he were an old person whom Had Fallen and Couldn’t Get Up.

“Um…sure, sure.” His nonchalance was clearly forced.

“You can come in.”

San Lang obeyed, eyes to the tiled floor as he shuffled to the tub, throwing a towel over his shoulder as he bent over Xie Lian, whom reached for him in turn. He couldn’t but notice that San Lang’s eyes, like the imaginary ones, on the ceiling lingered over his naked form longer than strictly necessary. There was a starvation in those eyes that had nothing to do with the craven sexual desire that had been in  Jun Wu’s face ever since Xie Lian was just a freshman. 

Thank heavens Xie Lian’s body remained unresponsive, else his next request would’ve been for San Lang to toss him down the steps.

With surprising strength San Lang hoisted him on the mat and inattentively started toweling Xie Lian off as if he were all of five. Xie Lian gaped at him as San Lang drew the towel away from his hair, which was now ruffled in all directions.

”Um. Thanks…?”

Thankfully San Lang took his cue to look away as Xie Lian lowered himself to the floor. He awkwardly shuffled into the pants with a pained huff, and fumbled to roll back the overlong ends. But they simply flopped back over his feet. When he pulled on the shirt, the sleeves slid back from his elbows and drooped over his arms. He now resembled a paraplegic, or a child playing dress up as San Lang cradled him in his arms. 

 “I hope that feels better. Let’s get you to your room. I have to insist you eat.”

“I don’t know if I can hold anything down,” Xie Lian admitted honestly.

 “You feel sick?” A hand at his sweating forehead.

Only a considerable time later when Xie Lian was in bed, binge-watching the ceiling and thinking wordless thoughts he recollected later on only in colors, did he acknowledge that a small, very unwilling part of him had wondered why San Lang wasn’t warm. It had been all the warning of the roar of an incoming train, but ultimately just as immobilizing. As useless.

“…no.”

The honest answer was that he didn’t feel the slightest bit hungry even after his prolonged run. And Xie Lian realized with another guilty pang—was there anyone more ungrateful than he was?—that he wasn’t entirely sure if he wanted to eat anything San Lang cooked.

But if San Lang wanted to hurt him, he had every opportunity and he’d been nothing but a gentleman.

“Then I’m still going to have you insist you eat. It’s chicken and rice soup, by the way, so you should be able to keep it down.” 

“Thanks. You’re amazing. But you seriously don’t have to carry me,” Xie Lian pointed out as San Lang carried him down the hall again.  

“I think I do.” San Lang threw him a charming smile. “Looks like you escaped a rabid dog and wound up in a serpent’s coils, Xie Lian.”

“….snakes are fine with me,” Xie Lian said uneasily, slowly back-stepping from the potential landmine that entailed. “My friend Mu Qing has a snake named Green that likes me a lot. She’s cool with just hanging out on my shoulders. Feng Xin is terrified of her,” He chuckled, shaking his head. “Although Green’s real chill and gentle.”

“Would you really want to hold a snake that had a chilly disposition, let alone allow it to be draped around you?”

“I take it you’re not familiar with slang. One of the reasons I’m busting you out of here the moment we get an opportunity. Just so you know, when Mu Qing calls you a ‘ho,’ she means it endearingly.”

“What’s so endearing about being called a laugh?”

Xie Lian was buying San Lang a slang dictionary at his first opportunity. 

They entered a dimly-illuminated room, and the smell of dried flowers rushed into Xie Lian’s senses. It was a bedroom, and while Xie Lian supposed he no longer ought to be surprised by anything at this point, he wondered that it resembled something from a movie set. Maybe something from Pride & Prejudice: A fancy minimalist scene with softly-polished wood floors, a large wardrobe, billowing white sheets for curtains, a four-poster, a tiny bedside table, and (to Xie Lian’s delight) a large shelf filled with small, dark volumes.     

“Bookshelf!” He exclaimed happily, pointing.

“Very good, Xie Lian.”

“You think you’re funny,” Xie Lian sighed, wriggling in San Lang’s hold until he dropped to his good foot again.  

“On the contrary. I know I’m hilarious.”

Xie Lian made a face at him before hopping over to inspect the collection. “If you want to really understand someone, you have to look at their books. Some writer guy who’s dead now probably said that.”

Xie Lian was a voracious reader.  The books themselves were much smaller than most Xie Lian encountered these days, and they felt heavier, probably because many of them were bound in leather. Many had onionskin-thin paper covers, and uneven, yellow pages.

Their authors had their names stamped on, and he ran a finger over them curiously: Kipling. Barret-Browning. Voltaire. Baudelaire. Shakespeare. Keats. Wordsworth. Wilde. This looked more like a collection of antique books you weren’t actually supposed to hold or touch belonging to some fussy collector than anything a Hot Topic kid would own.

“Wow. I see you’re quite the classical lit aficionado!” Xie Lian murmured, his fingertip skimming the book spines, pausing on a tiny volume marked The Waste Land. Xie Lian was both amused and perturbed to see that this book appeared to be the most recently-released item among its fellows. “Which of these books is your favorite, San Lang?” 

But San Lang frowned, opened his mouth, and then visibly-flinched, eyes squeezing tightly shut as his hand flew to his temple. Xie Lian turned when no answer was forthwithcoming, puzzled as San Lang neither spoke nor moved. Xie Lian immediately was swept up in concern; he unevenly hopped upon one foot to San Lang’s side, whom still seemed in a daze. "Is everything well? Does your head hurt? Can I get you some water?”

San Lang did not respond; he appeared not to have heard at all. Another visitor. Another cosmic joke of an instance. Yet San Lang could feel their approaching footsteps dimly pressing into the edges of his subconscious, as his soul was interwoven with the bones of this forgotten land. Another guest was coming. Xie Lian had fled here on bloodied feet looking for sanctuary from the clutches of a brute. At once San Lang understood; hearing white noise; the static sound of falling snow-but something is breaking through just now-

“San Lang?” Xie Lian was beginning to sound truly troubled. Partially to comfort his host, and partially to balance himself as he perched like a crane, he laid a hand on San Lang’s back. 

At once San Lang remembered himself. There was no need, to frighten this little one whom looked up at him with large brown eyes, soft and warm like freshly-tilled springtime earth. No, He’d keep that particular mask out of sight for right now, content with being the monster watching vigil beneath Xie Lian’s bed.

And then San Lang smiled demurely at a still-visibly concerned Xie Lian, flashing his pearly whites in a wolfish smile. The salacious thrill of what was soon to come was immediate, intoxicating.

"I’m very well. Forgive this San Lang’s silliness. Just a headache." He gathered up Xie Lian in his arms, and gestured welcomingly to a steaming tray on the bedside table. He hoped, with all his heart, that Xie Lian wouldn't be able to taste the addition to his tea. 

First things first. Xie Lian had to be safely tucked out of the way, and made to rest. San Lang’s dark eye glistened a fiery scarlet, pupil as scarlet as if it were on the cusp of shedding tears of blood.

The little bunny that had fallen in this lonely place would sleep, safe and sound, in the shadow of the serpent. But as for the rabid wolf that had come to feast upon the terrified little rabbit….. Well . 

As Xie Lian tentatively blew on his tea, Sang Lang’s eye shone with the fervor of an inquisitor about to lay a heretic upon a bed of coals. 

Xie Lian had chanced upon San Lang, a name he’d spun on the spot. It was not the name of a weakling whom had been slaughtered at the shambles. But the Jun Wu Xie Lian had spoke of would chance upon Hua Cheng tonight.

~o*oOo*o~

“My mother told me long ago…” 

By now his lips were so cracked it hurt to speak. He could scarcely hear himself over the wind, which by now had reduced his ears to two stinging stars of pain. He wet his lips again. A mistake, but a reminder that some part of him was still warm. 

“When I was a little tad…” 

He rubbed his neck ruefully. His throat had become a liquid line of fire much earlier, when at last his crooning escalated into screaming. Embarrassing, that; what Xie Lian must’ve thought. Jun Wu’s sheepish smile widened as a trickle of blood trickled down his chin. 

The snow was falling thicker and faster now, catching in his eyelashes. Reminded him of tossed rice and the sentiment made him chuckle slightly. He patiently raised his lantern a bit more and watched the twinkling snow drafts building up around him. 

“That when the wind went moaning so…”

He spoke mainly to amuse himself, puffs of air swimming over his face as he continued forward. His mind disinterestedly wandered back to yesterday, when Xie Lian’s mother had tearfully begged Jun Wu’s brother Pei Mei at the station in broken English to ‘Help my boy, he—he is—this is—destroying my family—he is sick with fear, his grades are falling—‘

The fuck did the bitch expect? Her boy had tested positive for ADD, or whatever shit-fuckery Alphabet Soup Clause that meant her little brat deserved special treatment. A hint of wistfulness crept into Jun Wu’s eyes and he tutted.

“That someone had been bad…” 

Oh, and Jun Wu had been so willing to give Xie Lian some special consideration. He had the decency to offer generous compensation to Xie Lian for what Jun Wu was already entitled to. Still, he’d offered to raise Xie Lian’s grades that day in the gymnasium, when Jun Wu smilingly approached the boy rooted to the spot in the center.

Xie Lian’s pupils had been shrunk to pinpricks and Jun Wu positively squirmed with joy when he paused in front of him. And if Xie Lian had any hope of entering the academy upon graduating, he’d need a generous letter of recommendation, which he wasn’t likely to receive from any of his teachers. 

 Jun Wu would never have allowed it in any case.

Yes, that was fair, and as he demurely waited for Xie Lian’s lips to unglue themselves,  Jun Wu dreamily considered a few other treats he could award to a good boy whom knelt at his principal’s feet and properly groveled, loved him, crawled underneath Jun Wu’s desk, and—  

Jun Wu’s smile hadn’t quite faded, but his eyes dilated as he continued his trek through the woods.

But Xie Lian had shoved Jun Wu away that day in the gymnasium and tore out of there. Rejected his love. As if Jun Wu were some living, visceral disease . Oh, that had hurt, and that was why Xie Lian’s gifts from his admirer steadily evolved into broken doll parts and dead animals.

A laugh bubbled free; a warm ecstatic sound. Xie Lian’s whore mother could cry at the police station as much as she liked; Xie Lian’s father could shout at the chief of police as much as he wanted. Jun Wu lovingly fingered the knife handle still hot in his hand.

He slowly came to a stop as his light finally fell on heavy indentations, muffled by fresh snow but there nonetheless.  Jun Wu chuckled merrily.

Someone forced their way through these banks very recently. There were tracks.

Yes.

He’d clutch Xie Lian to himself so gently, despite everything. After all, nothing would be so awful as to not be killed by someone whom loved you. He’d pin the boy down and murder him in one way and then another by cutting his heart out. Feel the hot rush of life in his hands, those lovely eyes have the light shot out of them. And then Jun Wu would—         

“Fuck!”  

A low-hanging bough struck him dead-on in the face. He pulled himself free, but lost his footing and fell in a snowbank. Growling, Jun Wu hoisted himself back up, hesitantly pressing a hand to his stinging eye. No blood. He swore quietly again, sticking bitterly cold fingers in his mouth to warm them.

He took his lantern back in hand, squinting around the dense thicket of forest he'd wandered through for what now felt like hours. He had to give this much to Xie Lian; the once high-inducing game of hide-and-seek was steadily becoming annoying.

 Jun Wu felt a tremor of dark, hot fear. Xie Lian couldn’t possibly get away. Not with his dear Ruoye smoldering in a ditch, not with the limp Xie Lian had sported as he rushed into the forest.

 Jun Wu waded through the snow after the prints, snorting at a particularly large indentation. And another. Xie Lian had clearly lost his footing a few times. The humor evaporated quickly though;  Jun Wu was thoroughly drenched, colder than he'd ever been in his life. Everything fucking hurt, and he'd made Xie Lian pay in kind. He'd cut open small animals before, watched with bright, breathless anticipation as the doomed creature howled or squealed as he slowly sliced into them. He always saved the inner organs for last, timing how long he could keep an animal alive before sawing into its intestines or brains. Once he'd hung a dog with its own intestines as a kid, and how appealing would it be to do that to Xie Lian?

For this prolonged wait,  Jun Wu just couldn’t give a naughty boy a quick death. He would cut him open so slowly, almost tenderly so. He would feed him the broken glass he kept in his trunk, make his eyes bubble out of his own head with the chemicals he'd swiped from the school lab. But Xie Lian had escaped amongst the thorns like a hare, and now things were steadily devolving deeper to pot. Gritting his teeth,  Jun Wu yanked at his own hair and roared.

"FUCK!"

He couldn't go back; not now. Not now, not when instinct told him that Xie Lian was running blind, not least due to the fact he no longer had his cell phone, which  Jun Wu fingered in his pocket along with his switchblade.

To Jun Wu’s dismay the marks eventually led to a tiny, thorny tunnel that seemed to borough into the earth itself. Xie Lian must have been truly desperate. But he obediently bowed and crawled after, albeit with no small amount of difficulty.

After what felt like a long time of being thoroughly raked and scratched in every direction, Jun Wu heaved himself free, scooping up his lantern and weapon again. Yes; these footprints had sneaker zigzags.

The tracks eventually led up a hill.  Jun Wu knelt to touch pink snow, pressed it against his cheek. Blood. And judging by the long skid marks, Xie Lian was hurt and falling more than ever.

 Jun Wu lumbered through the path, up another hill (he himself slid several times) and he at last came to a halt, all but gasping for breath as he raised his lantern again.

The barely-visible silhouette of a house. In this fucking forest. What the actual fuck. The cold had to be hemorrhaging his brain. But Xie Lian’s tracks led straight on towards it, and  Jun Wu went deathly still, biting the inside of his cheek so hard he tasted rust.

His hand slowly curled into a trembling fist. Against his better judgment, he slid down the hill, the flurry improving to a fury and the wind buffeting  Jun Wu back with all its might. Let it try.

Well. This place was uglier than an open wound, but Xie Lian in all likelihood crawled in here for shelter. If there were another occupant, someone whom wanted to help Xie Lian, they were just as culpable as he and deserved to be strung up in the trees too.

The first time he tried opening the icy gate the fucking thing slammed shut, and he all but ripped it open in the gale. He strode up the walkway, now so freezing  Jun Wu for the first time worried about hypothermia. But if he died out here, he'd take Xie Lian with him. But maybe he could try taking a note from Star Wars and rest in Xie Lian's warm entrails for the night. It was a good thought.

He set down the lantern and tried the rusting doorknob, which was locked. Hissing angrily, he pounded his fists against the battered door before ramming into it with his shoulders in a frenzy.

And at last the thing came crashing down, the aroma of must and rotting wood rushing into his senses. He tentatively stepped inside; the carpet was damp and filthy, spotted with mold. He could taste the smell of mildew. The flashlight beam slowly rested on a destroyed chandelier on the floor, shattered glass glinting in all directions.

What had once been a fine-looking home seemed to have been turned inside out; there wasn't much furniture about, and much of it seemed to be in pieces. He wrinkled his nose as the ray fell on rodent bones and droppings, and everywhere there were fallen planks and bricks from a dilapidated roof. He threw wary gXie Lians at the ceiling, hoping the wind wouldn't knock debris atop him.

The windows were cracked and he could see his breath in here. He wandered into what might've been a sitting room, sofas overturned, chimney a yawning pit. He passed by a mirror with such-grimy glass he almost didn't recognize what it was at first. His reflection was so murky and distorted he could scarcely make out his own silhouette at all.

The lantern light floated over the water-stained wall paper, which fluttered from faded walls like ripped skin.

"Xie Lian," he said, his honeyed voice echoing. "I know you're hiding in here, you little shit," He turned back to the main hallway, observing the frosty steps.

This place was disgusting, but it would have to do for shelter. The snow would have to stop by morning, and he'd make his way back.

“Come out, my love, come out and play.”

Silence. He carefully headed up the stairs, which groaned under his weight. "Playing hard to get? Daddy’s so hurt, sugar pop. I’m going to butcher you if you don't come out now. I thought coming out was what you did.

"Xie Liany?" He chimed in a singsong voice. "Come out, come out, wherever you—“

A second later his foot plunged through the wood and  Jun Wu howled in shock, falling on his knees. With an animal bellow he wrenched his foot free of a splintery hole, and gingerly crept up to the second floor. 

Drip. Drip. Drip.

His light rested on an ajar door. He very slowly entered the room, ears pricked. A bathroom. Colorless, cracked walls. His light rested on an enormous bathtub; its faucet drips echoed.

The tub could make for an excellent place to hide.  Jun Wu approached, knife still held at the ready. But when he stood over the tub he saw that it was full, only with something that looked like ink instead of water.

Both squeamish and curious, he put his knife in his pocket and dipped a hand into the tub. When he drew it out it came back red.

Not a second later a gore-spattered hand shot out, seized Jun Wu's collar and attempted to drag him in.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!”

There was a warm rush of piss down his leg as  Jun Wu pulled back against the wrenching hand, brow glistening in the effort of escaping its iron grip. He blindly socked and scraped the emerging arm with his free hand, and at last managed to stab blindly into something solid.

The hand slowly withdrew under the surface once more, and Jun Wu frantically plunged his knife down after it. But the blade scratched against the tub bottom as he fumbled for flesh, icy blood sopping down his front, and hands gleaming red.

But however much he cut at the water, the blade came into contact with nothing at all. There was nothing there, now.

He grabbed his fallen lantern and strode backwards, shaking like mad. "JESUS H FUCK!” 

He tore out the bathroom and slammed the door shut, wheezing. Mind neatly erasing itself, he slammed his hands against the door, grimy hand slipping, leaving bloody handprints. "The fuck is this sick shit?"

His escalating pitch nearly became a sob, but instead became an enraged bellow: "THE FUCK ARE YOU UP TO, Xie Lian? I'M GONNA KILL YOU! I'M GONNA FUCKING KILL YOU!"

He swiped his hand on his wet pants, but none of it came out at all. As  Jun Wu began desperately scrubbing his hand against his front, his pant legs—almost licking his palm in his haste—

The spattered blood wouldn't come off. It wouldn't come fucking off.

He jolted around, spotting another door at the end of the hall. Eyes bulging he made for it, stopping cold as he heard a throat clearing behind him.

"Good evening."

 Jun Wu cried out, whipping around and sliding on the rotting floor in the bloody-puddle accumulating beneath him.

His frantically-darting lantern fell at last in front of a pale, dark-haired young man whom surveyed him icily, his eyes cold. For a moment the whites of his eyes seemed to turn black, pupils reduced to over-bright red balls. But a second later  Jun Wu blinked and they were normal once more.

"The fuck are you?!" He demanded weakly, dripping free hand extending his knife threateningly. To his mortification his hand was shaking. If he hadn't been prepared to kill a stranger before, he certainly was now.

The stranger's expression remained stony.

"This is my house." He said quietly, hand resting lightly on the balcony over the stairs. "And you're not welcome here."

"Yeah, I see you live in the fucking Ritz, you squatter,"  Jun Wu sneered, piggish eyes narrowing to slits. "If you're hiding that little fuckboy Xie Lian here, you better point me in the right direction if you don't want me to plunge this into your ear."

"You might perhaps want to consider being quieter," said the stranger dryly. "Yes, Xie Lian is in my protection tonight, but he's sleeping now. You must not disturb him. These are atrociously-poor manners on your part.”

 Jun Wu gawked at him for a long, terrible moment.

"What the—the fuck, did you two finger each other's pussies here?" he jeered, his mocking voice belied by the bellicose jealousy chiseling over his face. "I assume you’re Xie Lian’s boyfriend?"

"One thing at a time,” the strange boy muttered, dipping his head. “As of right now, I'm his guardian."

"Fuck, you got some kind of daddy kink?" He took one menacing steep forward, and another. His voice reached a dangerously-sweet register. "I can understand, poppet, I can understand.”

 Jun Wu slowly reached out, gleefully imagining twisting thosedark  locks between his fingers as he slit the boy’s throat. “Tell me where he is. You can’t hide him from me forever. Remember that, and I won't kill you."

"No I won't, yes I can, and no, you won't," the young man said flatly, crossing his arms. "You're over seventy years too late for that one."

" GIVE HIM TO ME !"

And San Lang smiled a smile that could cut. It grew wider and wider until his mouth began to tear, ripping apart his lips and mouth until he was quite literally grinning ear-to-ear in an enormous gash, teeth and the insides of his cheeks visible. His blackening eyes cracked open like eggs, and what looked like tar leeched down his cheeks.

He slowly rose in the air, toes just kissing the ground, contorting madly as his spine crunched in half with a sound that cracked like a gunshot. His encompassing arms widened, hands and nails rapidly lengthening.

The entity’s skin bubbled, and suddenly torrents of spiders exploded from every crevice, out his empty eye sockets, out the nose which had fallen on the floor, out of the huge smiling mouth. They all surged free with a series of near-deafening clicks, and on the floor and upon each other’s backs a wave of frantically-marching spiders rushed towards him.

Throughout all this,  Jun Wu had been paralyzed, lantern dropped, unable to make a sound, hot piss dripping down his leg. He fell against the banister and tumbled over it, slamming onto the stairs.

His vision blurred into stars, his shoulder and knees crushed with pain—one of them had given a sickening crunch beneath him. Dazed, breath effectively knocked out of him, he began sliding down the stairs before the steps began moving like an upwards-escalator, every rising step smacking him across the face, in such quick procession he had no chance to recover.

The specter leaned over the balcony above, Ruoye light in the holes in his face like two fireflies. And the spiders flooded through the bars and across the banister in droves, pouring on  Jun Wu and swarming over every inch of him.

He screamed and screamed, which only led to live spiders spilling into his mouth. They crawled their way down, down, down, tiny waving hands scratching his throat and trachea. His eyes bulged and he thrashed to and fro in an attempt to scatter them, only inviting the arachnids to propel themselves more quickly inside him.

With the biggest effort he'd made in his life he hauled himself to his feet, threw a leg over the balcony and slid down the banister.

When he came to a stop his legs almost failed him. Swaying, catching himself, he vomited twitching spiders and ran for the door, only to have his ankle yanked sharply back, sending him crashing down.

Dazed, agony searing its way through every fiber of his body, he managed to turn his head in time to see a rotting, white-eyed corpse with its jaw hanging off its hinges shred its way through the splintering wood of the floorboards. It clutched a graying-pink lasso—intestines from its torn open stomach—that was tangled around  Jun Wu's leg.

The creature roared as it wrenched him backwards with Herculean strength. Shrieking, he clawed at the snare and hopelessly scrabbled at the floor as he was pulled within reach of the monster, only to look up and find an abomination already floating over him, bones in its mouth as mismatched as if they'd been drawn from different people or animals, jammed into bleeding gums. The shadows flaring epileptically about its skull looked like slashing black crayon marks.

And then the thing descended on him.

-O-

 Jun Wu's eyes flew open. He was surrounded in near-complete blackness. The only points of light were a few white pinpricks in the sky from a considerable distance above him, as if he were in a tunnel. Grunting, heart pounding, he attempted to sit up, only to flop back against what smelled like wet leaves. There was no part of him that didn't hurt, save for his legs, which were numb.

Everything hurt; his head was so tender he could scarcely lift it. He stared at the sky and tried desperately to figure out where he was, or if he'd slipped from one nightmare into another.

Scrunching up his face, completely flummoxed, he feebly propped himself up on his elbows. Slowly, a head came into view from above. 

Nearly shitting himself,  Jun Wu attempted to rise only to find that his legs would not move no matter how hard he pushed them. As a matter of fact, he'd lost feeling in everything beneath his navel. He bellowed like a wounded animal:

"YOU! THE FUCK DID YOU DO TO ME?"

San Lang tsked. Now his voice rang out on all sides, as if they stood in an amphitheater: "You act like I just snapped your neck. I aimed a bit lower. Although I'm surprised you had a spine at all, considering what a monstrous, pathetic coward you are.”

He let out a long-suffering sigh. "If Xie Lian didn't need me to check in on him soon, I'd be happy to put some sort of parasite’s eggs in your stomach." He hummed. "It's incredibly appealing, the idea of them hatching inside of you and feasting on your insides before bursting through your stomach walls. But leaving you in the well has some poetic justice, so I'm happy to let it slide this once."

"What the hell?"  Jun Wu sniveled hoarsely, throat constricting. He felt something jabbing into his upper back, and just barely managed to pry a long bone from underneath him. "Aaah, aaa, aaaa, aaaaaaaaa!"

"In case you're wondering whose bones those are, they're mine," called San Lang. "I was left here to die at the hand of someone I trusted." His lip trembled for the briefest of seconds. 

"So here is your tomb. It's more than you will ever deserve."

"I'm not a fucking cripple, not a fucking cripple, not a fucking cripple,"  Jun Wu snarled, clawing at the walls. "I'm not wheels, I'm a fucking—I'm a fucking…I used to be a football player, for Christ's sake—I'm not—a crippie—"

"Actually, you are," said San Lang firmly, dropping something on  Jun Wu's head. It bounced off, and  Jun Wu could vaguely see another bone, this one blackish red. "I saw to that. You probably can't feel it now, but I ripped part of your spine out."

Silence.  Jun Wu’s head turned against his will, watching as blood slowly oozed beside him. From underneath him. He screamed and started pounding his fists against the well sides, as if that would help.

"Let me out, let me out or I'll kill you—"

"Oh, shut up. Incidentally, I was left underground in the summer for days; it was a long and remarkably unpleasant end, I assure you. You're lucky it's winter. You'll freeze to death tonight and drift off into a pleasant sleep. You should be grateful Xie Lian needs me. The way he'll never need you , by the by."

"NO! NOOOOO, NOOOOO, NOOOOOOOOOO! LET ME OUT! LET ME OUT! PLEASE! YOU FUCKING PSYCHO —I'll kill you, I'll kill you—"

"Actually, those are my words. Goodbye,  Jun Wu."

And with that San Lang closed the lid over the well, listening as  Jun Wu's spiked screaming, the intermittent mix of cries, curses and prayers stifled. He stooped and cleaned his bloody hands off in the snow. Had he sounded that way, when Bái Wúxiàng threw him down there? More likely than not.

San Lang wandered away from the well, tilting his head to the sky the way one might to the sunshine after weeks of rain. The snow was near-blinding and the wind sobbed as his coat flapped about him, making him look like a strange black bird attempting to take off.

Somewhere very far away, a Hua Cheng sank to grief over the monstrosity he'd committed; a mortal and sadistic act of torture he had not believed himself capable of. Sealing away  Jun Wu the way he had was akin to tossing someone in an oven.

But that Hua Cheng was, after all, a considerable distance away.

He closed his eyes, holding out his arms. He felt peace, radiant with justice. A Bái Wúxiàng Zarkon would die tonight, and could never harm a San Lang or a Xie Lian ever again.

If he were to be condemned to eternal purgatory here on Earth, exiled as some Jacob Marley to wander alone in misery, why not give the punishment some merit?

He thoughtfully considered the stars. He liked to think the chill somehow made them brighter, though of course it was the intensified wintry darkness making them seem so. San Lang bowed his head, letting his nose sink into Xie Lian’s white scarf, which he’d borrowed though of course he didn't need it.

Here he had fallen, and here he remained, forgotten. What sin had been his, save for the fact that he'd been born? For in his lifetime he had wept and fasted, wept and prayed, wrung his hands at mass and implored innumerable saints to heal him of his attraction to men. Nothing came of it. For committing the crime of being human he’d ended with both with a bang to the well bottom and a whimper as the lid shut out the sky.

And even when he’d died and emerged from his tomb his parents fled from his specter, as had everyone else he’d ever encountered. San Lang had wandered this forest until he reached an invisible barrier he could not pass. And so here he remained, a fixture of his own shadow. 

His eye twitched. For what he’d discovered tonight had been just a little over a century. He grabbed a stray branch, and began drawing lines in the snow.

Inexplicable as a newborn’s ability to use their arms and legs, San Lang did understand that he did have it in him to make things if he wanted. People even, if he liked. But while they did everything he directed, these things ultimately were marionettes whom couldn’t move without San Lang pulling their strings, or have a voice unless he blew his own into them. Certainly these shadow-puppet silhouettes were incapable of being real company, or of loving him on their own. Their existence was worse than being alone.

He smiled, might’ve cried if he could. 

Somehow San Lang's ravenous mind remained perpetually-intact like the rest of him all these years, though madness would've been a most-welcome reprieve.

He could conserve the memory of the inside of his home if he wanted, but eventually lost all interest in doing so. And so San Lang had gone to sleep with the building and all but merged himself with it, praying to succumb to the steady decay of the old house's bones and crumble with it somehow. A prayer to nothingness: If there could be no heaven nor hell for the likes of myself, let me cease to be altogether.

And then, a near-century later, he jerked awake after what he knew was a considerable long time, felt Xie Lian hammering against him, crying out for mercy…

And San Lang had been needed. In his lifetime he had craved to be needed above all else, despite the fact that it had needed more than anyone he’d ever known. To find that Xie Lian likely would've died without him (though he was incredibly resourceful) was gratifying. More so than it should be.

San Lang felt a phantom stab in his chest, though he lacked a beating heart. Confined here in this blizzard, injured and with no way of contacting the outside world, Xie Lian had still wept for San Lang.

San Lang’s eyes flickered and he hugged himself. To be given this brief reprieve was nothing short of cruel—like throwing away a plate of food in front of a starving dog, or slapping a sleeping child.

His silhouette gradually began to fade, the only visible evidence that he or  Jun Wu had been there at all was the latter's blood in the snow. No meaning behind it. Just blood in the snow.

-O-

San Lang re-appeared outside his—Xie Lian's, he inwardly thrilled—door, the house restored as it was in its prime. He'd sealed away Xie Lian's room to protect the little nest while he pursued  Jun Wu.

He couldn't resist smirking. What satisfaction it had been, to enact some of the more-dramatic revenge fantasies festering inside him for decades! He would’ve dearly loved to play longer, but if Xie Lian’s wound opened again…

He was conflicted. It seemed like an invasion of the smaller boy's privacy to appear directly in his room, and there would be…awkward questions if Xie Lian woke and saw San Lang suddenly materialize beside him.

How much he would like to lie down with Xie Lian like the cursed prince from the fairy tale East of the Sun, West of the Moon. Or take him as Cupid took Psyche, himself unseen.

San Lang pressed his brow against the wall. Every pore of him was opening for the press of warm skin; his own touch-starved after…after over eighty years. How his mind had not torn itself to pieces with despair was a mystery he'd soon as not discover.

He slowly slid to the floor, prostrate as a supplicant. He'd been alone for so long, and his torment had never become any less unbearable. But tonight a cold gale threw a bird from the darkness to his feet. “I don’t know what ‘solipsistic’ means, but if I can somehow help you out with your situation, I have to. And it’s not just because you saved me, but because there’s nothing worse than someone just expecting to be treated like nothing for the rest of their lives! And if your parents are holding a knife over your head, then I want to protect you.” 

“Oh, Gege. You little fool….”

“You’re a good person, San Lang. Really, you are! I’m not dumb enough to believe that alone magically undoes all the conditioning you’ve endured all your life, but if it helps, I’ll tell you’re one of the good ones a lot. As many times as you need. And then a few more after that, because you’re just that cool.”  

And to the ruined tower came the Prince of Aquitaine.

San Lang smiled, sweet and just a little bit sad. Such naiveté. It was a wonder Xie Lian had survived this long. He was endearingly little out, large within.

If at last San Lang had gone insane, it was the sweetest kind of madness to tumble into. He pressed his forehead to his knees and gripped his hair.

He ached with longing; Xie Lian was everything he’d ever wanted. And he wasn't a criminal or a pervert like the homosexuals portrayed in newspaper articles about secret bar raids. He was the Gabriel meant to end San Lang's suffering. His arrival couldn't be an accident.

San Lang couldn't cry, but oh, how he wanted to. Then again, perhaps it was a blessing that he could not; he might never stop.

His mind raced. The storm confined Xie Lian here for now, but it would dissipate eventually. Xie Lian would certainly want to return home, and the idea was so catastrophic that San Lang longed to die properly more than he ever had in his existence.

He raked futilely at his skin, painless and indestructible as ever. He was doomed a second time; he couldn't keep Xie Lian here. Imprisoning him would be just as ghastly a sin as what had been done to San Lang. Worse. He savagely bit down on his knuckle to suppress the howl rising inside him.

And yet.

He suddenly saw Xie Lian's retreating figure on the moor, heard his fading footstep and San Lang’s voice was as useless as it was the day Bái Wúxiàng forced him down the well and threw that first handful of dirt on his face…. 

The unwinding tendrils of his hot, dark hopelessness thrashing like snakes in his mind steadily evolved into luminous threads, iridescent like bubbles. They reached for their prey like so many loving hands, cradling Xie Lian in gentleness and something as unbreakable as steel, dragging him back.

“…no…”

San Lang was seized by the worst kind of bitterness, the acute bitterness of those whom believe the universe owes them something.

Did God not owe some comfort for all he’d endured? Perhaps Xie Lian was just that, some cosmic retribution. San Lang’s unmitigated purgatory had been struck a crescendo tonight. 

Whatever life Xie Lian had before, San Lang consoled himself, it was all a farce compared to the real happiness Xie Lian could have. What was everyday existence when a sovereign of shadows broke themselves with adoration of you, waiting patiently for the opportunity to enclose you into their arms, in a paradise of everlasting devotion? In order to preserve Xie Lian from nightmares, San Lang would cheerfully unhinge his jaw like a serpent’s and devour them all, become their tyrant and the nightstalker of all whom would dare pursue a little prince who would watch the seasons change here. 

Xie Lian would be eternally safe and happy, a flower pressed behind the yellowing pages of an ol story. San Lang would see to it that Xie Lian was preserved here, forever young like himself. The world in all likelihood had not changed in its attitude to homosexuals, if  Jun Wu were any kind of indication. No, no, the only humane thing to do was to keep Xie Lian here for his own safety. Because people like Xie Lian attracted the Jun Wus of the world, because people intuitively wanted to destroy beautiful things. 

Of course, that would mean telling Xie Lian the truth and he'd be frightened—whom wouldn't be, Xie Lian might even hate him at first—but San Lang would not allow that to last forever. The young man might need a little careful cultivating, like a precious stone being shaped and refined for a priceless ring, but San Lang would have Xie Lian’s heart in his hands when Xie Lian eventually understood that this was for the best for them both.

Xie Lian was his by right. And San Lang would shower him with all the affection and gifts he could ever want and then some. Whom else would give him the attention he’d been so desperately seeking for so long?

He raised his fist, lowered it again. No. He would not broach the subject tonight, not when Xie Lian needed rest and time to recover from his injuries and ordeal.

Suddenly the crack under Xie Lian's door shone yellow and San Lang stiffened. Surely Xie Lian couldn't have heard him. He concentrated, felt his little bird's feet tentatively touch the floor, and that wouldn't do—the idiot—

He knocked, now holding a platter with a water glass and pitcher. "Gege?" he said, and he had to say it again, partially because he'd spoken too softly the first time, and partially because it was a pleasure to say his name. "Little one?"

Something between a muffled squawk and a yelp.

"….come in.”

San Lang obeyed, finding the youth sitting up and clutching a pillow.

"I'm sorry to be so rude. I was just using the bathroom and thought I'd check in on you. Need some water?"

Xie Lian gratefully accepted the glass and took a few cautious sips. San Lang looked him over. Twice, to be sure. And then once more, purely for aesthetic purposes.

"Forgive me. I have not disturbed you?"

"No. I was already up." Xie Lian’s hands twisted in the comforter. "San Lang, you weren't kidding about that chamomile tea being a knockout. I was dozing and then I thought I heard… someone wailing .” His voice shook. “I thought my eardrums would shatter, I—“

San Lang bent and enfolded him in his arms. Xie Lian clutched back for dear life.

"Shhh," San Lang soothed, resisting the urge to strain Xie Lian tighter against him. "You were dreaming, was all. Your nerves were frayed. It is to be expected, considering your harrowing journey here. But I promise you there’s no danger. I just checked all the locks again. Nothing's coming in."

Or out.

They sat there for a long time, each lost in their own thoughts. Xie Lian was the one whom slowly pulled back first, cheeks lightly dusted pink.

"I think I'd like to read for awhile, if you don't mind. That always helps me after a nightmare."

"Of course. I'll collect some books for us both."

"You don't have to stay awake on my account," Xie Lian objected, though the protest in his voice was insubstantial compared to the relief in his eyes. San Lang smiled.

"No, I was having a hard time sleeping too. We can just sleep in tomorrow; there's all the time in the world." 

San Lang retrieved some titles from a nearby shelf. When he turned he found Xie Lian perched against the window. "You shouldn't be up."

Xie Lian said nothing, face paling once more. San Lang dumped the books on the bed before gently but firmly tugging on the bony wrist. Xie Lian quietly obliged, and as he sank on the bed he cast another troubled look out the glass.

"I swear I heard something.”

San Lang sat beside him, gripping his shoulder as Xie Lian buried his face in a bandaged hand. "I heard someone crying. Like…nothing I’ve ever heard before—it was like they were being sawed in half."

San Lang sighed, humming inanely as he pulled Xie Lian back into his arms, hold as constricting as it was comforting. For a foolish moment Xie Lian imagined being lovingly smothered in velvet. San Lang hummed against Xie Lian’s skin, and Xie Lian shivered again. 

Briefly, San Lang’s hands closed themselves carefully over Xie Lian’s wide eyes, cold lips wandering to the shell of Xie Lian’s ear.  

"’Twas the wind," San Lang quoted, pressing his cheek against soft dark hair. "’Twas the wind, rapping at your chamber door.’

"'Only this, and nothing more.'"