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Feng Xin and Xie Lian are having a housewarming party for their new apartment. Mu Qing stares at the text and swallows sharply. He puts the phone down, curls up in his chair, and exhales shakily.
Normally, this wouldn’t matter. Normally, it wouldn’t be a big deal. Loathe as he was to count on such things lasting and continuing, he knows he is one of their closest friends. Of course they would invite him. Most likely, people like Lang Qianqiu or Pei Ming are invited as well, people more trouble than they’re worth in a party setting (in everyday life as well, but especially in a party setting). Of course he’s invited.
But it means Hua Cheng will be there.
It’s been two weeks since they broke up. Two weeks since Mu Qing had felt the pressure of the relationship hanging over him, the knowledge that it was going to come to a head soon, to a close, and decided to end it himself. Ending it ensured he kept his dignity. Ending it meant that he was the fine one, and not the one that would get drunk and text Xie Lian about it and have to swear him to secrecy.
Always like this. It’s always like this. Mu Qing isn’t… good with relationships. He never has been. And when he’s tried, the few times he tried to date in University, it all went up in smoke because of that. They pushed for too much, he pulled back, and they got fed up and dumped him. It’s a song and dance. A stupid, godawful song and dance that he should stop fucking trying in.
But Hua Cheng is his soulmate, and Mu Qing’s heart aches.
Everyone has fingerprints left from their soulmates, somewhere on their body. Mu Qing’s seen Xie Lian’s, scattered across the back of his neck, where Feng Xin likes to rest his hand. He’s seen Feng Xin’s, on his upper left shoulder and chest, where Xie Lian rests his.
Hua Cheng had held Mu Qing by the hips, let his fingers sit there, and marked Mu Qing for the rest of his life.
Oh, he doesn’t know. Of course he doesn’t know. Mu Qing hadn’t realized until he had returned home that evening and spotted them while changing, and he’s never let anyone see him in any state of undress since (not that he made a habit of it before, so it’s not like the change was conspicuous). But if Hua Cheng left his marks on Mu Qing… then Mu Qing must have left his marks on Hua Cheng, right?
Hua Cheng is shameless, utterly so, and yet he’s said not a word.
Mu Qing was stuck with both approaching intimacy he would not be able to handle and a one-sided soulmate situation and he had done the only thing he could do - dumped Hua Cheng before he got dumped.
And now he has to see him again, at this stupid party. Fuck.
Mu Qing isn’t the very first one to arrive, but he’s one of the earlier ones. He did buy a gift, just a box of coasters he picked up at a vintage store, and true to form Xie Lian is enamored. Xie Lian thanks him, eyes shining, and Feng Xin gives him a look. “He’s not here yet,” he says, and of course Xie Lian told fucking Feng Xin.
He grits his teeth but nods at that, and wanders over to go investigate the snacks. Shi Qingxuan was here before him, and she put cute little labels she’s slapped on toothpicks and shoved into everything. The names make it clear what she brought, what Feng Xin and Xie Lian made, and what’s storebought. Mu Qing avoids the fancily named dishes like the plague, even the ones that look somewhat edible, and hunkers down in the corner next to He Xuan.
She’s a good shield while Shi Qingxuan happily chatters at both of them, not expecting much of an answer from either, and it means that when Mu Qing sees Hua Cheng arrive, Hua Cheng doesn’t see him.
It’s not the biggest apartment in the world, but there’s a bedroom.
Maybe it’s cowardly, to duck out the moment his eyes caught that red, but he can’t. He can’t. He needs at least a moment to breathe, a moment to stop his hands from shaking, and he sets down his plate and drink on the dresser, sits on their bed, and tries to breathe.
He’s been in here before. While this is their housewarming party, he had helped them move their stuff in here a few weeks ago. He and Hua Cheng did. Back before he had…
Mu Qing swallows sharply, and smooths his hand over the bedspread. He looks around the room. They had both carried the dresser in, and Hua Cheng had teased him and then pressed him against the wall afterwards, leaning in-
He buries his face in his hands.
Mu Qing doesn’t know how long he sits like that, but the door clicks. He jerks his head up, immediately embarrassed even though he’s expecting Feng Xin or Xie Lian, but his heart drops. His body turns to ice.
It’s Hua Cheng.
He shuts the door quietly behind him and then leans against it, folding his arms and sweeping over Mu Qing with his eye. “So this is where you were,” he says, and Mu Qing scowls.
“Looking for me?” he asks, eyes narrowed. “I’ll take my leave. Move.”
Whatever Hua Cheng says, he doesn’t want to hear it. It won’t lead to anything good. Infuriatingly, Hua Cheng doesn’t move. “Not so fast,” he says, smooth as ever, his face giving nothing away. “Can’t we still talk? Aren’t we still friends?”
Mu Qing feels like he’s being mocked. “Are we?” he challenges, standing up, hands curled into fists.
“Yes,” says Hua Cheng bluntly, which takes the wind out of his sails.
Oh. Well. He can’t make himself sit back down again, doesn’t want to be looking at Hua Cheng from that angle, but the other man sighs and walks over anyway, brushing by Mu Qing as he sits down. “You didn’t need to block me, Mu Qing,” he says. Just his name. No nickname.
Mu Qing did this. It shouldn’t sting, but it still does. He looks away. “I’ll unblock you,” he says. “Is that all?” He wants to insult him. Wants to lash out and dig into him because Hua Cheng seems so untroubled by this, so utterly unaffected, but that would just make this conversation last even longer and Mu Qing wants this over with even more than he wants that.
Hua Cheng is quiet for a moment. He doesn’t look over to see what his face is doing. “Why?” he asks.
Mu Qing doesn’t look back. He folds his arms, pressing them tightly across his chest as if to shield himself. “I told you. I’m just not interested anymore.”
There’s a long moment of silence, before Hua Cheng stands up abruptly, grabbing a surprised Mu Qing’s arm and puling it towards him to press his lips to his palm. Mu Qing stares at him. It feels like every hair is standing on end, like his palm is electrified, and he can’t pull away. His arm flexes in his grasp but he can’t… he can’t pull away. Hua Cheng kisses his palm again, and then murmurs, his lips brushing it as he speaks. “Really?” he asks. “You’re not interested?”
Mu Qing doesn’t know what his face is doing, what it looks like for Hua Cheng to say that, and he finally yanks his hand away and turns around. He’s debating whether he’s going to open the door and just flee, to retreat like a coward, when Hua Cheng steps a little closer. “Baobei,” Hua Cheng says, very quietly. “Be honest with me. I know it’s not that.”
He wishes Hua Cheng would taunt him. Would tease him. That would make it all so much easier, but of course the bastard won’t do that when he actually wants him to. “Did Xie Lian tell you?” he asks, unable to stop the bitterness from curling out of his throat.
There’s a pause. “No,” says Hua Cheng. “But a dog left me some very pointed comments.”
Mu Qing exhales heavily, closing his eyes. “...You were going to end it soon.”
“What?” Hua Cheng sounds genuinely fucking surprised, which Mu Qing isn’t too surprised about. Things always go fine until they’re suddenly not. “What the hell are you talking about?” When Mu Qing doesn’t answer, can’t quite even find the words to answer, Hua Cheng slips his hands onto Mu Qing’s hips. They slot into place, right where the prints are, right where he’s supposed to be, and Mu Qing’s breath hitches. “I have no idea where you got that idea, but I wasn’t.”
“You would have,” Mu Qing insists, and he turns around to glare at Hua Cheng, though his hands stay on his hips. He can’t say it, can’t express the sheer humiliation that while Hua Cheng has marked him for the rest of his life, he has left nothing. He swallows sharply.
Hua Cheng takes his hands away and steps back. This is it - this is the moment he’s convinced him, right, that there’s no use in continuing? But Hua Cheng keeps his gaze on Mu Qing, before he starts pulling off his top. Mu Qing squawks, shielding his eyes. “What the fuck are you doing!?” he demands, starting to feel freaked out in a different way.
“Look,” says Hua Cheng. Mu Qing doesn’t move. “Seriously, look, why the hell are you like this.”
Mu Qing pulls his hands away to glare, mouth opening, and he freezes. There are fingerprints on Hua Cheng’s shoulders, across his collarbones. Hua Cheng reaches for Mu Qing’s arm, and he doesn’t have to yank this time - Mu Qing lets him pull it willingly, and he rests Mu Qing’s hand on his shoulder. His fingers slot right into place. They’re his.
For a moment, he just stares at them. He swallows again. “Why… didn’t you say anything?”
“You’re like a rabbit,” Hua Cheng says, and Mu Qing glares at him, but it’s said with a fond look. “Skittish. I didn’t want to push you.” He doesn’t ask why Mu Qing didn’t say anything, because he’s not stupid.
“...I thought it was one-sided,” Mu Qing says, gaze returning to his hand.
Hua Cheng slips his hands onto Mu Qing’s hips. “Here?” he asks, and Mu Qing nods.
They linger like that for a long moment, and then Hua Cheng leans in. He kisses him, and Mu Qing lets him - it’s soft, chaste but lingering, and then Hua Cheng kisses across his cheek, his jaw, and starts down his neck.
Mu Qing makes a frankly embarrassing noise and stiffens a bit. Hua Cheng pauses, and chuckles just a little. “See? A rabbit.” He pulls back, smirking. “If you need me to slow down, you can use your words, Qing-gege.”
“Shut up,” Mu Qing says, but there’s no heat in that. “I’ve tried that before. Assholes dumped me.”
Hua Cheng hums. “I’m not an asshole.” Mu Qing eyes him, and Hua Cheng continues, smirking. “An asshole like that.” Which, fair enough. Hua Cheng’s eye softens and he presses his other hand to Mu Qing’s cheek and Mu Qing can’t help but lean into it just a little bit. “Seriously. We can go slower.”
“...Alright,” he says, and he sighs. “Fuck, they’re going to be so insufferable about this.” At least Xie Lian is just going to smile excessively - he doesn’t want to hear what Feng Xin has to say, especially if he had to get personally involved.
“The longer we stay in this bedroom, the worse they’ll be,” Hua Cheng points out, which is a stupidly correct point. He pulls his shirt back on and they grab Mu Qing’s plate and cup, but Hua Cheng slips his free hand into Mu Qing’s free one, interlacing their fingers and gives it a squeeze. “Hey,” he says. “I’ll take you home after this, and we can talk?”
They do need to actually discuss this, but here and now isn’t the place nor time, and… no matter what, it will be fine.
“Fine,” he says, and they leave the room together.