my gift to danyans... MERRY HAPPY HOLIDAYS!!

[ninjawon]

Cheng Xiaoshi liked traveling.

He liked the idea of it, and often indulged during slow moments at the studio, picking destinations from the photos hanging on the walls and using them to map the routes he’d take. Never mind that he could simply materialize in those locations if he really wanted, but that wasn’t traveling. Traveling was that one summer he spent abroad with Lu Guang. It was checking their itinerary, struggling with luggage, sitting on the curb in the heat while watching Lu Guang try to flag down a car. It was Lu Guang, present with him. Flashing into photographs with only his friend’s voice in his head just wasn’t the same.

Cheng Xiaoshi liked traveling, but he’d come to accept that there just wasn’t enough time for it while running a business. It was what he liked to call the “curse of capitalism”, though Qiao Ling liked to call it “my excellent work ethic and discerning eye for business” instead.

Which was why, when Qiao Ling holds up the tickets in her hand on a bright, slightly humid Saturday morning, it takes a while for Cheng Xiaoshi to realize that she’s actually serious. A weekend trip? During prime summer time hours? Had he accidentally jumped out of last night’s photo into some kind of alternate universe?

“We’ve taken breaks before,” Lu Guang says in that tone he always uses whenever he thinks Cheng Xiaoshi is being dramatic.

“Yeah, on holidays.” Cheng Xiaoshi replies, in the voice he uses when he knows he’s right. “When was the last time we had a free weekend?”

Lu Guang doesn’t reply, which would mean conceding if he were anyone else, but since he’s Lu Guang his silence is as effective as a comeback. He finishes locking the front door instead, and Cheng Xiaoshi reaches up to help him drag the shutter down.

He’s still complaining even as he gets into the backseat of the car, Qiao Ling claiming dibs in the front, and as Lu Guang starts the engine of their rented car. The point is – Cheng Xiaoshi emphasizes as he drums his hands on the back of Qiao Ling’s headrest – that all of this is suspicious, and has Qiao Ling ever been willing to cut them any slack since they’ve opened up shop? Just watch, at any moment she’ll get a call, and then they’ll all waltz right back into the studio as if they’ve never endeavored to leave it in the first place.

“Cheng Xiaoshi,” Qiao Ling reaches up to adjust the rearview mirror, and his righteous paranoia must have shown in the reflection, because she sounds equally annoyed in return. “Just get out now if you’re going to sulk all the way there.”

“I’m not sulking. I’m complaining.” Anyway, he doesn’t sulk. He’s wary, cautious. A master at understanding all of Qiao Ling’s tricks and deceptions, with a memory of all the wrongs she’s committed against him since their youth. He leans back, squeezes his legs up onto the console, between the water bottles, and then yelps as Qiao Ling swats him.

“Gross! Put your feet down!”

Lu Guang doesn’t quite say the word “children” out loud, but his sigh is close enough. His gaze flicks from the right to the front, left to the front, as he maneuvers onto the highway, then briefly downwards where Cheng Xiaoshi’s legs are still dangling, then back up. It’s brief, but Cheng Xiaoshi immediately understands. He pulls his feet back, avoiding Qiao Ling’s next smack,and reaches for the water bottle, twisting the cap off with one hand.

“Here.”

He meets Lu Guang’s eyes in the mirror as he carefully moves the bottle towards him. Lu Guang leans forward a little, turning the wheel with careful precision, even as he presses his lips against the plastic. Cheng Xiaoshi can feel the pressure pushing up against his hand, keeps the bottle steady until he can see the slight bob of Lu Guang’s adam’s apple as he swallows.

It’s only when he puts the bottle back that he notices the look on Qiao Ling’s face.

“What?”

She shakes her head and sighs.

“Nothing.”

“Doesn’t sound like nothing.”

“If only you knew,” Qiao Ling mutters back, rolling down the window so that a well-timed blast of wind swallows up his snappy reply. From there, they engage in their usual back and forth, rolling the window up and down between them, which Lu Guang finally puts a stop to once they enter the parking lot. It’s surprisingly easy to find space, which doesn’t bode well for the popularity of their destination.

Then again, neither did the three tickets given to Qiao Ling, apparently free of charge. Cheng Xiaoshi can understand a complimentary ticket, but three? There’s promotion, and then just plain desperation. What was even the name of the place again? He can only remember the vague sense of it, half hash-tag, all cringe.

“There it is!” Qiao Ling sweeps a hand towards the sign.



Cheng Xiaoshi jerks back. He can’t help it. What looked like a dark smudge on the horizon earlier looks even more terrifying up close, broken up by not one or two, but at least five towers of innumerable spikes, like some kind of demented Gothic cacti growing right out the gates of hell.

“Wow,” He drags out the word as they trudge towards the entrance. “This should be fun.”

Lu Guang shades his eyes with one hand, hiding his expression, but there’s a quirk to his lips that’s an equivalent to a laugh. Cheng Xiaoshi is certain it is, after all, he is a connoisseur of all things Lu Guang. He can read him as easily as anything. This much is normal for partners.

He lingers in that self-satisfied feeling, the one he always feels when he gets Lu Guang in a way no one else can, up until he hears a loud click, and then looks down at the spiky leather wristband snapped around his wrist.

Wait no, not a wristband? The shape is longer, and there’s a chain that connects his hand to the pale wrist next to his.

“Handcuffs?!”

The screechy note in his voice is palpable, but honestly, well-deserved. He yanks at the cuff, the material – what was it, plastic? Leather? PLEATHER? – scraping against skin but clearly immovable, to his growing consternation.

“What’s with the freaky fetish bondage gear?! What kind of park is this?! Lu Guang, help me yank this off!”

Lu Guang looks up from where he’s frowning at his own wrist, then reaches out, long pale fingers sliding down his forearm, pausing as they reach the edge of the cuff, the inside of Cheng Xiaoshi’s wrist. He can feel the heat radiating from Lu Guang’s normally cold hands, the lightest of pressure as his fingers brush for the space between cuff and skin, and then – more pressure, hard against his now jumping pulse, before releasing.

His skin feels hot, ticklish. Itchy. He must be allergic to whatever they made this cuff out of.

“Congratulations,” the employee starts, cheery voice a stark contrast to Cheng Xiaoshi’s increasing heart rate, “as our one hundredth and one hundredth and one visitor to Baelial World, you’ve been given a special quest from Lord Baelial, Overlord of Hell, and Guardian of Romance! Please read the sign in front of you and step aside for the next customer. Thank you, and have a wonderful day!”

“What customer – we’re the only ones here?” He snaps back, but Qiao Ling’s laugh interrupts him. Her gaze is focused on said sign, her very normal wrist band slipping up and down her wrist as she digs around for her phone. Cheng Xiaoshi doesn’t spare the time to envy her, only chokes on his growing horror at the words flashing before his eyes. He sees “trap”, “cage of love”, and “Baelial”, but the gist of it is clear despite the questionable language.

They have to take and upload at least two “date” selfies, each with the hashtag #BaelialWorld, in order to get the key to their handcuffs from “Master Belial”, who is apparently waiting for them in the castle in the middle of the park. In other words, the so-called quest is just a social media stunt. Qiao Ling is still laughing as he reads it for a second time, which just makes him want to shove her.

“You wouldn’t be laughing if they decided to cuff us together. Or worse, you and Lu Guang,” He doesn’t actually know why it would be worse if it were the two of them specifically. Because you don’t like being left out. He rattles that thought around his head and lets it go, embarrassed. Anyway, it honestly feels like a park oversight to handcuff without asking any questions first.

Qiao Ling raises an eyebrow.

“First of all, ew. Second, all you have to do is take a couple selfies. You guys do it all the time.” She throws out the plural as if Lu Guang is also responsible for Cheng Xiaoshi’s enthusiastic social media reel, as if it usually isn’t him looking over at whatever direction Cheng Xiaoshi’s phone is in.

“This is completely different from that. This is date stuff.”

It’s so obviously not him and Lu Guang. Yes, they’re partners, and yes they’re best friends, and yes, the concept of friend dates isn’t shocking in the modern world, but if this were a friend date, then he wouldn’t choose public exhibition, no he’d think of something way more low key, something Lu Guang would actually enjoy – and now he’s too far sideways in his own head that he’s having trouble deciding what to say. He shakes his head and lifts his arm up to shake his cuff for emphasis, except he forgets Lu Guang is still attached to him, so all it does is bounce his hand off of his, pinkies touching.

He can hear a sudden intake of breath beside him, and then Lu Guang’s hand grabs hold of his. He’s held hands with Lu Guang before, all the time actually. Well, okay, less holding and more touching. He’s too distracted by the zippy sensation still skittering up and down his spine to do more than nod at Qiao Ling as she makes her escape towards the gift shop. Wow. He must really be allergic to this cuff after all.

“It’s not a big deal.“

Lu Guang catches him staring, shrugs one shoulder as he starts to move, resolutely tugging Cheng Xiaoshi along.

“Let’s go. We can order a parfait and eat at the same time.”

As if on cue, his stomach grumbles. Sometimes, it felt like Lu Guang’s actual ability was predicting the future. There were a lot of little moments like this one, where Lu Guang would just know. Like flicking on the lights in the middle of the night whenever the nightmares start to loom, or crossing the sidewalk the moment the lights turned green. Little things. So maybe this is like that. Maybe Lu Guang knows what’s coming. Maybe he’s actually enjoying this. Or maybe he’s waiting patiently for his partner to run out of steam, like he always does when Cheng Xiaoshi gets in one of his moods.

Or maybe he just wants to get all of this over with as fast as possible, Cheng Xiaoshi thinks, as he stares down at the glass on the table before them.

The parfait is some kind of ice cream cotton candy monstrosity with hot pink marshmallows in the shape of hearts – red syrup dripping down their middles. He’s not sure if this is meant to be a statement of love or a warning for the future. He looks down and sees the singular spoon on the napkin next to it.

Definitely a warning.

First the handcuffs, now the spoon, and the rest just a medley of borrowed romcom clichés. And in the middle of all of it, Lu Guang, who looks so out of place in this café that it lightens Cheng Xiaoshi’s irritable mood. He can see how funny it is, when he looks at him like this. As if he can read his mind, Lu Guang’s eyes narrow slightly, expression deadpan.

“What’s so funny?”

“You.” Cheng Xiaoshi picks up the spoon, waves it in the air. “The way we’re both here in a place we’re supposed to bring our girlfriends to.”

Lu Guang rolls his eyes in response.

“Take the picture already.”

But Cheng Xiaoshi has an idea. He aims for the biggest marshmallow he can possibly balance on the spoon, shaking slightly in his non-dominant hand, and then raises it to Lu Guang’s lips, mischief limning his voice.

“Say ahh.”

He bites the inside of his cheek to prevent the smile from forming. Lu Guang looks back at him, a wrinkle forming right between his eyebrows. It makes him want to press his thumb against it. Instead, he leans in, bats his eyelashes, and waits for the moue of annoyance or that familiar quirk of lips, for the Lu Guang who he knows would find this annoying or funny.

He gets only Lu Guang staring back at him, the light from behind the window creating mosaics in his eyes. Light has a way of finding Lu Guang even seated on their couch back at the studio, the hazel of his irises illuminated by the sun.

There’s only so much he can decipher from a single look, so Cheng Xiaoshi takes a risk, leaning further in, prodding the marshmallow against Lu Guang’s lips. Better than staring into his eyes, obviously.

“Come on, babe, say ah! Or are you too shy, huh, babe -- “

He yelps, jumping in surprise as Lu Guang snatches his hand with his free one, and before he can complain about wrist-grabbing as a cliché, Lu Guang’s lips part, open, and close around the spoon, heart and all. His tongue flicks out, pink against the cherry red of syrup clinging to his lip, and if Cheng Xiaoshi is riveted by the movement, no he’s not. He’s too busy gaping at what feels like his loss, especially when Lu Guang leans back and licks his lips again. He’s not smirking, but the left corner of his mouth is a little higher than the right, which is basically the same thing.

He can practically feel the color climbing up his neck as he jabs the spoon at him, indignant.

“You cheated!”

He’s not exactly sure how, but he feels like he did? But before he can explain it exactly, Lu Guang groans.

“Cheng Xiaoshi,” Hurry up.

Right. The selfie.

He keeps the spoon between them like a sword, and shakes their cuffed hands together for emphasis. A visceral “you take it”, which Lu Guang obeys, even as he lifts his eyes skyward in exasperation. He holds up the phone, presses the button.

Click!

Then he’s passing the phone back to Cheng Xiaoshi, who finally drops the spoon in order to survey the picture. They’re both in the frame, but it’s blurry. Worse yet, is the blush that’s clearly visible on his face. Whatever, must be from a filter he forgot to turn off. He taps out the hashtag and then determinedly takes a few more bites of the parfait, as if using the same spoon puts them both on even ground again. If this is a competition, then of course he has to win.

It’s that same spirit that pushes him up and out of their seats, determined to drag Lu Guang with him this time to their next destination. He doesn’t know what it is until they come across it.



The haunted house is just about what he expected. Dark, a fog machine on its last legs in the corner of the room, plastic skeletons posed as if they’re praying or suffering. Not that it matters which, since he doesn’t scare easy. Not from stuff like this, anyway. Lu Guang looks less than impressed as they make their way in, though he does jump when a fake bat flies at his head, making Cheng Xiaoshi cackle. It’s the most exciting thing that happens in the first fifteen minutes.

“Let’s pose with the next skeleton and then get out of here.”

He suggests, sneakers pressing against the uneven floor, which he notes is now sloping upwards. Lu Guang says nothing, his eyes warily fixed towards the ceiling, which presses down the further they go. It makes the space feel more cramped as they walk, claustrophobic in a way that Cheng Xiaoshi immediately doesn’t like, but it’s fine because this is just a haunted house at a stupid amusement park that thinks handcuffing random visitors together is conducive to romance –

He doesn’t see the net until he’s already tangled up in it, the ropes thick and heavy where they fall on top of him, exerting pressure in a way that narrows his vision, shortens his breath. Lead fills his veins, and his feet feel so far away from him, like he’s laid out on the ground and suffocating, like the only air is coming from the hole in the sky above him.

“Cheng Xiaoshi!”

The dim lights seem to barely penetrate the darkness around him. He barely registers the weight being lifted, net tossed aside to disappear into the fog below. The cuff on his wrist feels like a vise, yanking brutally against bone. He can’t breathe, he can’t breathe, he can’t breathehecan’tbreathe --

“Cheng Xiaoshi.”

And then his hand, pressed against something warm – his palm over the ratcheted beat of a heart, pulsing along, the rhythm at odds with his own at first, and then – settling. He breathes in through his nose, out. In, out. Deep breaths. He focuses on the hum of inhalations against teeth, the subtle reverberation. Lu Guang in front of him, pale like stars – as if he’s all the light in the room, like he’s the moon in the sky. His voice lapping at the shell of his ear, but instead of a lullaby, a teary plea, it’s just words. Methodical. Steady. Everything Lu Guang is to him and more.

“Breathe. Concentrate on me”

He was there then too, Cheng Xiaoshi thinks. But he hadn’t talked then, only stayed silent as Cheng Xiaoshi wailed and pleaded in another boy’s voice. He presses his hand harder against the heart he can feel in his palm. This is different. This is life. Life. This is the present, not the past.

Time passes, but he can’t tell how long he spends bracketed in Lu Guang’s arms, hand on his chest, as his voice laps at the shell of his ear, murmuring a stream of words that tug him back to reality. Finally, the world slots back into place. The fog, the stale air. The spikes from their cuff dig into his skin from where he’s clutching Lu Guang. It takes effort, but he releases him gradually, beat by beat, reclaiming space.

“Sorry.” He blurts out. “I just… It’s…” He swallows past his dry throat, the cotton candy taste from before unpleasantly sticky on his tongue now. Lu Guang is looking back at him like he can hear the sentence that doesn’t materialize in the silence. Like he knows the language Cheng Xiaoshi speaks as intimately as he knows his, always meeting him where he is.

Lu Guang reaches out, slow and steady as ever, and presses his hand onto his shoulder. There’s still a sense of shame, but it doesn’t feel as oppressive now. Instead, it’s mixed with gratitude, and something else, a snarled thread, tangled deep, and anyway, he’s pretty sure they’ve overshot their time with how long they’ve been here.

“Let’s go.”

They’ll talk about it later, when he knows he’s ready. For now, he follows Lu Guang as he leads them out, flagging behind if only so he can keep him in his sights the entire way through.

Once they’re out, he takes a moment to rest, breathing in the now cool air. He makes a list in his head to distract him, the photos on the wall, the places he’d like to go. He counts them over and over, and only on the fifth count does he realize that Qiao Ling has rejoined them. He can see her and Lu Guang speaking from where they’re standing next to him, and avoids her look of concern. Still, he doesn’t move when Qiao Ling approaches, even opens his free hand when she gestures for it.

“Here.”

She drops the key into his hand as casually as anything. He looks down at it, as if trying to reconcile the image of this plastic key with the entire afternoon.

When he looks back up, he meets Qiao Ling’s shrug.

“I went over and grabbed it. It was pretty funny at first, but enough’s enough. They seriously need to think about what their brand is, because it’s like they can’t decide whether to be creepy or romantic.”

Right. The quest, the pictures. He folds his fingers over the key, and the image of Qiao Ling scolding Lord Baelial, master of the world, is silly enough to tug a smile from him. He can feel Lu Guang looking at him, probably waiting for him to release them already. And he wants to, he really does. He’s over the handcuffs.

But, it was fun. Kind of. Not really. Not enough for him to want to keep them on, obviously. He can be with Lu Guang without using excuses. He touches the key to the lock, wonders when exactly this trial of an afternoon had turned into simply spending time with his friend.

And if the look in Qiao Ling’s eyes is a little knowing, well. He’s too busy shaking his wrist free, waving his hands around as Lu Guang discards the cuffs.

“Wait, the picture!”

Lu Guang shoots a look back at him. Really?

“We might as well. Qiao Ling, get in here.”

Her raised eyebrow vanishes once she realizes what he wants them to do, as he lifts the phone with one hand and flashes a gesture with the other at the camera. He can see Qiao Ling laugh as she raises both of her hands up, mimicking him, and then Lu Guang jostling in, his serious expression finally relaxing as he reciprocates.

One click, and there. Qiao Ling laughs again as Cheng Xiaoshi slaps an extra hashtag on it.

#BaelialWorld #F❤️ckYou

It’s a perfect caption for all three of them with their hands raised, middle fingers very obviously raised, though Cheng Xiaoshi censors them all with heart stickers, that way it can stay family friendly for the algorithm. He only realizes Lu Guang is still looking at him when he puts his phone away.

“I’m okay.” He pauses, amends. “I’m okay now. You helped.”

Lu Guang is silent, the look on his face the one he gets when he’s thinking of something, gaze cloudy with guilt.

It’s not a look that suits him, so Cheng Xiaoshi changes the subject, nodding at the cuffs still in Lu Guang’s hand.

“We should do this again.”

The guilt vanishes, turning into disbelief, and Lu Guang moves away an inch or two before Cheng Xiaoshi realizes what that sounds like.

“I meant taking the day off! Not the cuffs!” Great, now he feels hot again. “I want to go traveling again. It doesn’t have to be abroad, but I want go somewhere, anywhere. Maybe to a normal park next time.”

He rubs at his bare wrist as he babbles. He should feel lighter now that it’s gone, but instead he feels pinned down by something else, nerves probably. He can read Lu Guang so well, every page of him. But a part of him convinces him not to try this time, to keep his gaze front as he waits for his answer.

“...Yeah, okay.”

It’s short, to the point, but if Cheng Xiaoshi wanted elaborate replies and long answers, then he’d stick to talking to his reflection in the mirror. Something catches in his chest: a heartbeat, skipped. The smile spreads across his face. He doesn’t look back at Lu Guang, because he doesn’t have to. He'd only see the quirk of his lips smiling back at him.

“That’s a promise then. You can’t take it back!”

The breeze feels nice on his face, the tips of his ears, his neck. He turns smartly on his heel and makes for the exit looming ahead of them, where Qiao Ling is waiting, hands on her hips. He’s still feeling giddy when he turns around to where Lu Guang is walking after him, watching.

Because what could take from this moment, or from the future between them?

“Lu Guang! Hurry up!”

Nothing, obviously. Just the time they’ll spend between this summer and the next, Qiao Ling and him and Lu Guang, from studio to wherever they’ll go next. Hopefully without hand-cuffs.

And if it takes him a moment to agree, as he skims his hand up and down the red line of his wrist, then that's a thought he bats away in the cool evening air, back to the bright lights of the park behind them, and forward to the studio waiting for him, Qiao Ling, and Lu Guang.

Cheng Xiaoshi likes traveling, but the part where he gets to go back home? Even better.