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Cheng Xiaoshi would never possess Lu Guang.
There is a mountain’s worth of things they don’t talk to each other about, and this, too, has always been an unspoken agreement between them. Diving is a serious breach of privacy even with strangers – Cheng Xiaoshi is able to learn everything about a person when he becomes them, all of their memories, all of their needs and wants and desires. But when the person whose head he’s in is someone he spends most of his waking moments with... Itʼs too personal. They could never look at each other the same way afterward.
It’s no wonder, then, that it takes a little while for him to understand that Cheng Xiaoshi possessing him is exactly what Lu Guang has been planning. Even when it does click, Cheng Xiaoshi finds himself looking for alternatives – it seems ridiculous that after all the walls Lu Guang has built around himself, he’s offering Cheng Xiaoshi a way in. He knows as well as Cheng Xiaoshi does that this dive, more than any others, has a cost. There’s a part of Cheng Xiaoshi that doesn’t want a way in, the one that would rather continue in this quiet limbo that they have.
All of Lu Guang’s mysteries aside – the fairly one-sided “will they, won’t they” isn’t the optimal relationship status by any means, but Cheng Xiaoshi prefers it to seeing a decisive “they won’t” in Lu Guang’s head.
He’d like to keep the foolish hope alive.
Cheng Xiaoshi is nervous as he prepares, much more so than before any other dive. Of course, the one time when he doesnʼt have Lu Guang by his side for it, when he won’t have his calming voice in his mind, is also the time when he has to be in Lu Guangʼs mind. And save his own damn life. No big deal. He thinks the sudden spike in difficulty is a little unfair, but then again, he is not exactly spoiled for choice.
His whole process is backward, too. He usually gets ready by going through the things he needs to learn, the memories he needs to access, the goals he needs to reach; now, apart from learning how to hotwire a motorboat, he spends most of his time thinking what he’ll have to avoid. Of course he has questions. Of course there are things he’d like to know. But this is not the way to find those things out.
Some stupid part of him wants to know everything, which means he’ll have to run around in Lu Guang’s body with blinders on the whole time, following his and Qiao Ling’s adrenaline-addled memories of what happened by the river and trying his hardest to not pay attention to anything else Lu Guang’s mind contains. To everything Lu Guang has never told him about. It feels like the only way to keep their friendship intact.
If Lu Guang thinks that this fuckery is the optimal outcome, Cheng Xiaoshi doesnʼt want to know what the alternative is.
He’d like to drag his preparations on a little more, postpone the dive into his best friend’s life. There’s still so much to consider, so much to pack up and tape shut and turn his back on. But time marches on, and he needs to save himself if he wants to save Lu Guang. Whatever he sees will simply need to be collateral damage, and they both will have to be okay with that.
Cheng Xiaoshi has no idea how to be okay with that.
So, in the end, even though he doesn’t feel ready in the slightest, he closes the door to Captain Xiao’s office, eyes on the photo Lu Guang had taken in his hospital room, and with a deep breath, he brings his hands together.
***
From the first moment that Cheng Xiaoshi blinks into Lu Guang’s body, he feels a pull so strong it almost paralyses him for a moment.
The need to save Cheng Xiaoshi.
It’s not like Lu Guang is telling him to do this; and Cheng Xiaoshi is still reorienting in the body of his best friend, so the feeling isn’t his, either. (And it’s not as if he’d ever feel quite that strongly about saving his own life.) It feels almost like a reflex, like Lu Guang’s very DNA is urging Cheng Xiaoshi to get moving, and it’s an odd sensation. It’s like nothing he’s ever felt in someone else’s body before – one singular thought honed to a needle point, the thread run through it pulling him along. It’s dizzying and almost impossible to fight – he immediately feels restless between the crisp hospital sheets.
Some part of Cheng Xiaoshi hopes that it’s the last thought Lu Guang had before he took the photo, reverberating around in his body. It would be nice to be so entirely at the centre of his focus.
In slightly more worrying news, the curiosity that accompanies this new sensation is nearly overwhelming. Cheng Xiaoshi knows there is more to it. He knows that if he went digging, if he just shoved his fingers into the topsoil, he’d figure out why Lu Guang’s body seems to be so wired to save him. The answer almost feels like it’ll break through the ground itself, and Cheng Xiaoshi wants it to. The stupid hope for what it might be almost chokes him.
But he can’t think about that.
Because he needs to go, and more importantly, because he can’t invade like that.
Lu Guang is built of secrets. Cheng Xiaoshi can’t take them away from him.
With a stressed sigh that sounds familiar coming out of Lu Guang’s mouth, Cheng Xiaoshi forcefully pushes away the questions his mind is brimming with and looks at the numbers on the screen in his hands.
Time to get busy.
***
He keeps an eye on the clock as he speeds towards the river.
Lu Guang’s side is burning with pain, and while Cheng Xiaoshi feels a muted version of it, it’s enough to disorient him just a little. He’s repeating the directions in his head like a mantra, clings to them like an anchor that keeps him from falling apart against the walls he’s thrown up between himself and Lu Guang’s mind.
He can’t risk even a peek. Whatever he’s trying not to see keeps weighing heavy on him as it is, trying to break through the cracks. It’s getting more difficult to ignore, as if it wants to be seen. Cheng Xiaoshi has to shake his head as he runs to realign his thoughts.
He can’t do this to Lu Guang.
The curiosity hasn’t let up once. A dozen questions keep coming back around in the back of his mind. He’d like to know more about Lu Guang’s past, his family, the things that make him smile that specific way. The way he feels about Cheng Xiaoshi.
Nope. Nope. Nope, Cheng Xiaoshi admonishes himself as he runs. The river is in sight – not much to go now. He won’t have to hold out for too much longer.
If only the pressure on his mental barriers wasn’t increasing with every step he took.
As he steadies his breath on the small boat, looking for the right wires to connect to bypass its ignition, he feels a grateful moment of silence in the body he’s in. He finally has something except Lu Guang’s one thousand little mysteries to focus on, and it feels like taking a breath after running a marathon (which, to be fair, he also kind of did).
The engine whirs to life right on time, and Cheng Xiaoshi huffs in relief.
He’s almost done. Almost free.
As soon as he’s safely on the water, the weight of Lu Guang’s mind is back on his shoulders. He feels claustrophobic, almost, like tendrils of emotions and memories are reaching in through the gaps in the walls, and honestly, he can’t wait to get out. Once Lu Guang is safe, he’ll have to tell him that he is never doing that again.
(Of course he will, if he needs to. If this is what it takes to save Lu Guang, Cheng Xiaoshi would do it a hundred times over.)
The other shore approaches, and the feeling that grips Cheng Xiaoshi when he sees himself being blindly led away is not his own in the slightest. The desperation and ache he feels are entirely Lu Guang’s, and… that has to count for something.
Cheng Xiaoshi takes the leap.
Even beyond the wild thrum of adrenaline in his veins, Cheng Xiaoshi feels Lu Guang’s body being led on by something even stronger.
As he takes hold of his own hands, rips his own body free from Li Tianxi’s controlling grip, the feeling suddenly breaks past every barrier he’s been setting up for both of their sake, entirely uncontainable, and unravels in Cheng Xiaoshi’s consciousness, clear as day.
Love.
Lu Guang is head-over-heels, lay-down-my-life-for-you, I’ll-find-you-in-any-lifetime, soulmate-level in love with him.
The freight-train realisation loosens Cheng Xiaoshi’s grip on his metaphorical blinders, and for a moment, it all breaks through.
His own face in a thousand different frames, from high school to two days ago. His own smile above his outheld hands cradling a basketball. Him, asleep in the sunroom, his head on Lu Guang’s lap, a phantom feeling of warmth on Lu Guang’s thigh. His own fist, approaching at a speed that’s easy to dodge, and his own heartbroken face behind it that makes it impossible to. His own hair, all up close in a hug.
And then there’s the ones that aren’t real.
Gentle embraces. Legs tangled under a shared blanket. Hands wrapped tenderly around each other. Kisses, first ones and second ones and hundredth ones, sweet and heated, brief and seemingly eternal, so many of them that it’s dizzying, one daydream after another after another.
Moments that have been, moments that haven’t.
Moments that could be.
They tumble down to the ground, and the impact helps Cheng Xiaoshi realign himself. He’s almost violent in the way he wrenches his brain into the present, out of Lu Guang’s feelings. They keep bubbling under the surface, and Cheng Xiaoshi feels dizzy with their sheer amount. He looks down at his own face, confused and so ridiculously, hopelessly unaware of the magnitude of what Lu Guang is feeling, and wants to laugh in relief. It manifests in a victorious grin.
What an idiot.
(He’s not sure which one of them he’s thinking of, anymore.)
And then, another thought, an important reminder.
Lu Guang doesn’t want him to know.
The knowledge is enough to shake him fully free from the dazed headspace and into reality.
No matter how much he wants to stay right here, bring back every little memory, every little daydream to revel in each one, this isn’t how it’s supposed to go.
So, he drags Lu Guang’s body upward, right in time to parry Li Tianxi’s first strike.
It’s easy, now – he has good reflexes to begin with, but he also has the memory of watching Lu Guang – himself, really – do it. He can see every attack coming from a mile away. He can even remember Li Tianxi turning to run, and with the way his side is burning, he still isn’t fast enough to catch her right away. He stays on her tail, though, to keep his past self from doing something stupid. He’ll get her this time, she’ll stay right…
Darkness.
It’s disconcertingly familiar, this feeling of disconnect. It’s like a buffering anime episode – he gets a few frames, and then, it all skips forward. Once, twice – and suddenly, he’s back in the present. Back in Captain Xiao’s office. Back where he started.
He’s been kicked out, again.
He falls to his knees as the adrenaline fades and the emotion comes rushing in.
He’s safe, but Lu Guang is still in danger.
Lu Guang. Gorgeous, stupid, incredible, ridiculous Lu Guang, who’s carrying the heaviest baggage every single day, never wavering, never slipping up, never showing even the tiniest hints of what he feels. Lu Guang, who doesn’t want Cheng Xiaoshi to know.
Why doesn’t he want him to know?
He’ll know that Cheng Xiaoshi knows. He’ll know as soon as his mind is his own again. He’ll know he managed to save Cheng Xiaoshi, but he’ll also know that his secrets are no longer all his own. He probably knew this would happen when he took that photo, and he decided to do it anyway. To let it all bleed through, if that’s what it took to save Cheng Xiaoshi.
Lu Guang loves him, quietly and from a distance, day after day after day, never says a word about it. Cheng Xiaoshi heaves a dry sob at the ache. He’s not sure whose it is, his own or a remnant of Lu Guang in his head, but it weighs so heavy that it takes him a long time to drag himself up off the floor.
***
As their plan for retaliation (that’s what they’re calling another desperate rescue mission) begins to take place, Cheng Xiaoshi runs their reunion through his head over and over again, putting more effort in than he did at any level of his education. He has no idea how it’ll go, and it terrifies him. He wishes he had Lu Guang’s power of foresight so he could brace for impact.
The obvious solution seems to be ignoring it. They ignore everything about each other that might be out of the ordinary. Cheng Xiaoshi himself has spent literal years pretending his own feelings don’t exist.
And even if they do talk about it, everything is an uncertainty. Has Lu Guang kept it secret out of a fear of rejection? Some awful self-loathing? Maybe he doesn’t want to date a coworker? Or a friend?
He would be stupidly pragmatic enough.
In weaker moments, Cheng Xiaoshi allows himself to hope – that when they meet again, it’ll take a single look before they fall into each other’s arms. Now that he’s seen Lu Guang’s daydreams, he can’t help but come up with his own: relieved first kisses, second ones, hundredth ones. Lu Guang could look at him, know that he knows, see the happy smile Cheng Xiaoshi would give him, and fall into an embrace.
They feel sweet. They feel hopeful. They give him respite, and yet, he forces them down.
He can’t set himself up for failure like this.
***
Of course Lu Guang knows that Cheng Xiaoshi knows.
It’s clear from the first seconds of their tear-fogged reunion, from the moment Cheng Xiaoshi pulls Lu Guang into a tight, relieved hug, while Lu Guang’s answering embrace emanates nothing but exhaustion and sorrow. It’s obvious from the way Lu Guang clings to him as Cheng Xiaoshi half-carries him to the waiting police van, yet won’t meet his eyes. It’s evident from the silence.
The silence stretches, and Cheng Xiaoshi doesn’t know what he should do to break it without destroying his most important relationship in the process.
Lu Guang is taken to the hospital again, and when they’ve put him back together, intestines and all, Cheng Xiaoshi assumes his sentinel’s stand beside his bed, more determined than ever to not let Lu Guang out of his sight. With the help of plenty of pain medication, Lu Guang sleeps, long and deep, and all Cheng Xiaoshi can do is listen to the measured ticking of the clock and watch Lu Guang, thoughts on spin cycle in his brain.
Cheng Xiaoshi knows when Lu Guang wakes from the tiny catch in his breath, the furrow in his brow. And yet, Lu Guang doesn’t open his eyes for a long time – he’s pretending to sleep, prolonging the inevitable. Cheng Xiaoshi understands, tries to nap a little more, too, but it doesn’t work. They sit in silence, ignoring each other, until Cheng Xiaoshi needs to use the bathroom. Only when he gets back does he see Lu Guang awake. Tired. Downcast. He’s sitting up, now, staring into empty space before him.
“Hey,” Cheng Xiaoshi says, hates how foreign it sounds, like he’s talking to a stranger. “Are you feeling okay?”
“Mm,” is the only response he gets, and it’s only because he’s known Lu Guang for so long that he can decipher it as not great, but I don’t want to talk about it. He nods and sits back down, scoots close enough to the edge of the bed that he could hold Lu Guang’s hand if he thought it would help. He fidgets with his phone, looks up every few seconds, but Lu Guang won’t meet his eyes. He’s digging the nail of his index finger into the thin skin on the knuckles of his other hand, and Cheng Xiaoshi wishes he’d stop, but finds himself tongue-tied.
The silence stretches, and stretches, and stretches. It feels quieter now than it did when Lu Guang was sleeping.
“How much did you… How much did you see?” Lu Guang finally asks, small and insecure, and Cheng Xiaoshi slightly jumps anyway at the sudden noise. He looks up at Lu Guang again and wishes nothing more than to disperse the rainclouds seemingly gathering above his head.
The thing is, he has no clue how to navigate this, because he has no idea what Lu Guang wants. He’d be happy to give him anything, if only he knew what it was.
“As much as I needed to. As little as I could,” he finally opts for honesty. Lu Guang looks up at him and frowns, but doesn’t push it, falling back to silence. Cheng Xiaoshi doesn’t want to let it fester for too long.
“A little more than you would have liked to show me, I think,” he finally admits, careful. He wrings his hands, wishing he could do something useful with them, like take hold of Lu Guang’s trembling fingers. The need feels almost familiar, paralysing in its strength.
“I promise, I tried!” he continues as soon as Lu Guang sighs and drops his gaze again, defeated. “I tunnel-visioned my way through most of it, tried not to think about it. I wanted to let you keep your privacy, I know how much that matters to you. And I know you didn’t really want to let me in there, but you…”
“I had no choice,” Lu Guang finishes the sentence for him, flat and emotionless. The wall between them seems higher than ever, and Cheng Xiaoshi imagines slamming his palms flat against it, pushing with all his might, doomed to fail.
“I didn’t want to… I didn’t want you to feel like I’d stolen something from you,” Cheng Xiaoshi tries, and closes his eyes when the sight of Lu Guang’s impassive face becomes unbearable. “I wish you’d had the choice of when to share this with me. Or not share it at all, if you didn’t want to.”
Lu Guang scoffs bitterly, and it breaks Cheng Xiaoshi’s heart. He has a very vivid memory of how light, how uncharacteristically sweet Lu Guang’s love for him felt. He hates the thought of it being tainted by knowledge.
“Why didn’t you ever tell me?” he asks, scared of the answer, yet aching for one anyway.
Lu Guang is quiet for a while, digging his finger tighter into his knuckle. Cheng Xiaoshi thinks he might be about to draw blood.
“I didn’t want to lose you over it,” Lu Guang admits, voice cracking over the words. “I knew you wouldn’t feel the same. I figured you’d see what I felt – it’s almost impossible to ignore, really – and I was hoping you wouldn’t, but I prepared myself for it nevertheless. Keeping you out would have meant losing you anyway,” he continues after another stretch of quiet, his gaze somewhere far away. “Your life was in danger, and even though I’m selfish enough to not want you to walk out of my life, I’m also just selfless enough to drag my biggest secret out into the open to save you, even if it ruins everything between us.” Cheng Xiaoshi cannot even begin to argue before Lu Guang continues. “But hey – you’re alive, and you’re safe, and that’s all that matters. It was worth it. As for what’s next… I’ll understand. Wherever you want to go from here, I’ll understand.”
The abject heartbreak, the premature, entirely unwarranted grief in his voice is enough to break the deadlock Cheng Xiaoshi has been stuck in. He can see Lu Guang getting ready for the death blow, as if there’s a version of reality where Cheng Xiaoshi could bring the blade down on him.
He would never. But he can give him mercy, instead. They’ve both ignored this long enough.
He gets up from his chair and sits on the edge of Lu Guang’s bed. He can feel warmth of Lu Guang’s side against his thigh, and it’s grounding. “I wish you could see inside my head, like I saw in yours,” he whispers and leans in even closer, finally covering Lu Guang’s restless hands with one of his, like he’s been aching to for a while. “You’d be surprised at what you would see.”
Lu Guang whips his head up to look at him, eyes wide. All of a sudden, he’s trembling all over, his eyes full of endless hope, more emotion he usually shows in a week, and Cheng Xiaoshi wants to protect him, keep him safe so no one could hurt him ever again. He knows it’s ambitious, borderline impossible, but he can try.
He can start from what he can control. He can stop being one of the things that hurts the person he loves more than anyone else in the world.
“I feel it too,” he whispers, and smiles weakly at the whimper that leaves Lu Guang’s lips at the words. “I feel what you feel, Lu Guang, and I’m so mad you didn’t tell me all this time.”
He has more to say, but he can’t – in a rush, Lu Guang reaches up to kiss him.
It’s aching and desperate, a far cry from the romantic daydreams Cheng Xiaoshi caught glimpses of. Lu Guang’s lips are chapped, his breaths are frantic, his grip on Cheng Xiaoshi’s hand a little desperate, but the feelings shine through, bright as day. Cheng Xiaoshi’s mind bursts into a technicolour mosaic of memories again.
Moments that have been. Moments that will be. Past and future, intermingled.
Cheng Xiaoshi pulls away, already grinning. Lu Guang is red to the tips of his ears and scarlet splotches are forming on his neck, too, but he looks happy, and that’s all that matters. Cheng Xiaoshi takes his hand properly, finally finds himself able to, and leans their foreheads against each other.
“Really?” Lu Guang finally asks. This is all out of order, but what else is new?
“ Yes, ” Cheng Xiaoshi replies with heavy emphasis, a little exasperation. “I just … I was so sure you didn’t want me to know because… You didn’t want this. Real life is more complicated than daydreams. I didn’t dare to hope.”
“Idiot,” Lu Guang says, and it sounds like the most tender compliment. And, then, a beat later, “I want this.” It’s barely above a whisper, accompanied by his entire face turning another shade redder, but there’s his quiet confidence in there, and Cheng Xiaoshi knows he’s entirely sincere.
“I want this, too,” he whispers, presses a kiss to Lu Guang’s forehead. It’s warm and one corner of Lu Guang’s lips lifts upward by a fraction of an inch. Cheng Xiaoshi lowers his head again, presses their foreheads together, and looks down at their joined hands.
“Do you feel… like that… all the time? Every day?” he asks, and his voice is full of enough awe that Lu Guang doesn’t seem to mind the subject matter too much.
“Constantly. It’s a disease,” he responds in his usual exasperated deadpan, and seeing his wry smile is such a relief that Cheng Xiaoshi pecks his lips one more time. Lu Guang actually smiles, now, which is a rarity for him. Cheng Xiaoshi positively beams in response.
“It’s not as… all-consuming when you’re not in mortal peril, though,” Lu Guang adds.
“I’ll try to be safer, then,” Cheng Xiaoshi promises.
“We both know you absolutely will not,” Lu Guang responds.
Cheng Xiaoshi kisses him again to shut him up.