Chapter Text
It was morbidly fascinating, staring at a body that had been prepared to look as though sleeping. Hidden in a body bag as preparations for a funeral were made.
Technically, the corpse was supposed to be kept cold to prevent rot. As it was, Liu Xiao had freed him from his icy prison an hour ago. His skin was still pale, eyes closed. There wasn't any further discoloration, not yet.
Now, after unzipping the bag, he simply waited. Smiled to himself. Had anyone seen him, they would have assumed him insane.
His ears strained.
Then: a pulse.
It started out unsteady and sluggish. Brilliantly crimson eyes snapped open, staring straight ahead at the flickering lights at the ceiling. Unseeing. There was a fog there, the body restarting too fast for the mind to catch up.
It was morbidly fascinating, watching a man come back from the dead as if he'd just been sleeping.
Vein didn't move, not yet, aside from taking a shallow, shaky breath. A cough escaped him, and Liu Xiao's lips curled from a smile into something amused rather than fascinated. Pathetic, his mind couldn't help but supply. He was wise enough to never speak those words aloud.
The redhead shuddered, heart jumping from an unsteady and sluggish beat to something more akin to a frightened rabbit. Amusing, in Liu Xiao's eyes. This was the same man who'd prowled around bars and alleys like a wolf. Like an apex predator. Now, here he was. More prey than hunter.
His shallow breaths turned into ragged gasps, chest heaving with the effort. The fog didn't vanish from his eyes, but he seemed to grow more aware by the second. When his eyes finally turned to Liu Xiao, the redhead shot upright and reached out with stiff fingers as if to try grabbing him by the throat.
It never came to pass.
With his limbs stiff from death and mind out of sync from his body, all he achieved was that he toppled over and fell.
Liu Xiao found himself tempted to steady him, but decided to only prevent the man from hitting his head. "Careful," he smiled, not even fully certain than the other could truly hear him yet, "you're very weak and fragile right now"
In any other situation, maybe that would've gotten him killed. Right now, the man simply hung loosely in his grip like a marionette with its strings cut. Most of his body on the floor, only his upper body held up by his shoulders. His head slumped, and Liu Xiao thought he saw him bare his teeth like a rabid wolf.
For a second, he thought the gesture looked pained. His heartbeat spiked again, and the young man couldn't help but think that the breaths he took were too fast.
Condescendingly, he pat his head. "Sleep later, we do need to get out of here. Tight schedule, and all" he told him calmly, knowing far too well that he wasn't likely to remain conscious for very long.
The redhead made a disgruntled noise. "I'll... kill you-" he all but growled, breath and heartbeat alike stuttering, before he simply went limp against the younger man.
Liu Xiao pat his cheek twice, just harsh enough to wake a person who'd fallen asleep. The older man didn't stir in the slightest, and he sighed.
"Guess I'll have to carry you"
~
Slowly, crimson eyes blinked open.
He felt horribly out of breath, sick to his stomach. The skin of his chest felt oddly tight, stinging with each shallow inhale. His heart felt as though it might give out any second.
The room was dark and quiet.
He waited, tried and failed to gauge how much time passed. Not even the tick of a clock reached his ears.
Eventually, the redhead decided to swing his legs over the edge of the bed and force himself to his feet. Used the bed to keep himself upright when his knees nearly buckled.
His body felt uncomfortable- stiff and weak. Every movement was more chore than anything else. As if his body wasn't willing to obey him correctly anymore.
Stubbornly, he made his way towards the window. Just that was enough to leave him fighting for breath, chest heaving. He didn't even make it halfway before he had to pause, trying to catch his breath.
As much as he loathed it, he was in no shape to fight... whoever had brought him here. He couldn't remember, his memories of what happened hazy starting from the moment Wang Qing had called out his name.
The memory came unbidden, the shout of his real name echoing through his mind, and he shuddered.
Point was, he vaguely remembered a pain in his chest like he'd never felt before, and then nothing.
If he concentrated hard enough, there was phantom touches. Lingering all over his chest and stomach. Lingering inside his chest, wrapping around his lungs and heart and feeling as though someone touched each and every one of his internal organs-
But that was ridiculous.
He couldn't have been asleep long, and even then, it was ridiculous. Impossible.
Still, his stomach flipped in a sickening way and he swallowed, hard. Told himself that it was stupid. He was being stupid.
As it was, he gave up on reaching the window he'd spotted and shuffled towards the small couch in the room. He'd seen a remote on the table in front of it.
Bending down sent fire alight along his chest, from his collarbones all the way down his chest and stomach. It took years of biting back each and every noise of pain to prevent a noise from slipping out.
Panting from the exhaustion of simply moving, and now pain, he glanced up. Remote in hand.
When he turned on the TV, it was on a news channel. That was good. He'd already dreaded having to navigate a foreign TV. Even more, he'd dreaded a TV that didn't work. Nothing of interest happened though, from the looks of it.
The weather, taking a turn to rain and storms after weeks of sunshine.
Yingdu's monarchy in yet another scandal.
The government making terrible decisions that immediately backfired.
A deceased's body getting stolen from- oh. That was him.
Vein's stomach dropped at the sight of his own face on the TV. Skin pale in a hue that wasn't normal for him, eyes closed and without his signature eyeliner, cheeks slack with lifelessness
That was him. That was a picture of his corpse.
Except, he was right here. He was alive. He was... not alright, not really, not when he felt like he was going to be sick and felt touch that wasn't there and with his body weak and unsteady as a newborn fawn's-
But he wasn't dead. He wasn't. He couldn't be.
He stumbled back, the remote chattering to the floor. He looked around for a mirror and found himself unable to spot one.
Somewhere, a door creaked. A lightswitch was flipped.
Vein hissed at the sudden change in lighting, breaths coming in ragged gasps. He turned, eyes falling on an all too familiar figure.
And Liu Xiao smiled at him. Soft and nearly pitying after his gaze darted to the TV ever so briefly.
"So you know, hm?"