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Guanheng stumbled out of the lecture building breathlessly, moving away from the door before sinking into a squat with his head in his hands. "I'm free," he muttered as Dejun followed him out, sitting down on the curb a bit of a ways away from Guanheng, well out of the radius of his post-midterm breakdown. "I'm finally free, holy shit."

Dejun rolled his eyes, tucking his face into his scarf as he did so. "It's anthropology, not prison, loser," he jeered, glancing at Guanheng before looking away again. Guanheng wanted to hit him— trust the guy double majoring in anthropology and theology to try to say that their exam was easy. "The exam wasn't even that hard."

"It was the worst ," Guanheng exclaimed dramatically, running his hands through his hair. Even with all of his and Dejun's late night study sessions, Guanheng wasn't convinced that he would pass. "I thought it would be easy— you know, anthropology kinda has to do with history— but it was... Whatever that was," he gestured vaguely at the lecture building, and Dejun snorted, "and it was terrible. I hated it."

"Whatever, it's done now," Dejun remarked, wholly unsympathetic, standing up and walking over to Guanheng. He nudged him none-too-lightly with his foot, snickering when Guanheng had to throw his hands down onto the cool, wet pavement to stop himself from falling over. He shot Dejun a betrayed look, but Dejun just ignored him. "Come on, you've got another midterm to study for still."

Guanheng heaved out a sigh at the reminder of the other exams hanging over his head, the next one two days away but still weighing down on him. "Don't remind me," he griped, but picked himself up anyway, looking at his best friend— and namely, the number 20 floating above his head.

Dejun noticed where Guanheng's gaze was directed quickly, used to it after all this time, and put his hands on top of his head in an attempt to hide the number. "Stop staring, you weirdo," he complained. "My birthday was two months ago. You should be used to it by now."

"Sorry," Guanheng replied halfheartedly, glancing down at Dejun's face to find his friend's thick eyebrows furrowed. "Just catches me off-guard sometimes."

Dejun shook his head, dropping his hands and starting to walk. "Catches you off-guard when you've been seeing this on everyone your whole life," he remarked, looking over his shoulder at where Guanheng was trailing behind him. "Whatever. I'm twenty years old now, and you need a coffee."

Guanheng couldn't remember the first time he saw the little white number floating above someone's head, but he could remember the first time he knew what the numbers meant.

It was his sister's birthday party, and Guanheng couldn't have been older than three or four years old. His family had gathered at a restaurant in Macau, busy and bustling with celebratory energy, and Guanheng watched in eager fascination at all of the numbers floating above people's heads. 6 above Cathy's head. 23 above the waiter's. 14 above his cousin's. 67 above his grandmother's.

He looked at his oldest sister and watched as the 7 above her head blurred, then reformed as 8 .

"Woah!" he had shouted, smacking his hands on the table. His mom turned to him, hushing him gently for the outburst, but Guanheng just stared at his sister with wide eyes. "You're eight now!"

His mother laughed sweetly at him, patting his head. "Yes, she's eight now," she said gently, petting his head and pushing his wispy hair back from his forehead, but Guanheng shook his head.

"No, she's eight right now!" he enthused, pointing to his sister's head. "I saw it happen! She was seven but now she's eight!"

His mother laughed again, but a tinge more nervous this time. "I'm glad you're excited for your sister's birthday, sweetheart," she told him, holding his cheek in her hand as he stared at his sister in wonder. "But we're in a restaurant right now, so you can't yell anymore, okay?"

Guanheng wanted to pout at his mom's soft reprimand, but he knew better. He kept quiet the rest of the dinner, until they were back at their home, and Guanheng could tell his mother what he'd seen.

She hadn't believed him at first, simply thinking it was a product of the overactive imagination of a young child. But when Guanheng began to call out more numbers when they were out in public, she finally pulled him aside, closing Guanheng into a bathroom with her.

"Guanheng," she said, in a gentle way that could only mean she was trying her best to keep calm. "The fact that you can see those numbers is wonderful, baby. But you have to keep it a secret, okay? Not everyone can see the numbers, and you don't want to make people jealous, right?"

Guanheng had agreed easily, fooled in his young age by his mothers' words. But as he had grown, he'd realized what she had truly meant— this was not normal, and if he wanted to live a normal life, he had to keep it a secret. So Guanheng kept it to himself, looking at the numbers above people's heads in silence. He watched the people around him grow older every day, the numbers climbing slowly, steadily. And he hadn't told anyone outside of his family— until Dejun, the two of them drunk at a party in first year held by someone they didn't even know. The alcohol had loosened Guanheng's tongue enough that he accidentally let his secret slip, but by the time he had realized it, Dejun was already snorting into his drink, his eyes hazy.

"I've heard weirder shit, man," Dejun had slurred, taking a sip of whatever was in his cup. "You're gonna have to come up with something better than that to shock me."

That had been the extent of it between them; Dejun never asked any questions, and he never doubted what Guanheng said, either. It was never a big deal between them, and that's when Guanheng knew that Dejun would be his best friend.

Guanheng wrapped both of his hands around his coffee, holding it close to his chest and tucking his chin down against the wind. It wasn’t that cold for mid-October— Guanheng had experienced much colder when he had visited Seoul a couple years ago— but it was cold enough, and he had dressed light enough that the wind seemed to blow right through him. He tried to look on the positive side, hoping that the cold would help wake him up a bit (along with pounding back the coffee that was currently warming his fingers), but all it made him want to do was toss his early medieval European history textbook out of his dorm room window and curl up under the warm blankets of his bed.

Guanheng ducked his head into the collar of his jacket again when another gust of cool wind blew by, skipping up the front steps of his dorm building two at a time. He vaguely recognized someone stepping out of the building as he approached the door, the person thankfully holding the door open for him, but he didn’t look up at the person until he was almost stepping past them.

2157 .

Guanheng’s eyes widened, trained on the number above the person’s head as he passed, only looking away when his shoulder collided hard with the doorframe and he lost his balance, tripping over the landing and dropping his coffee all over the floor.

“ Fuck ,” he cursed loudly, grabbing his shoulder and staring at the floor. Vaguely, he heard the person holding the door for him mutter something that sounded quite a bit like “oh shit”, then a hand was on his good shoulder and a face was appearing in his vision. Guanheng startled back, staring at the person in front of him.

It— he — was a guy, shorter than Guanheng, built lithe like a cat. His face was sharp, his features angular, light seeming to dance in his eyes whenever he blinked. He was hot .

Guanheng looked up at the number above the man’s head. 2157 . Maybe not hot.

“Are you okay?” Guanheng heard the stranger say to him, and he had to wrench his eyes away from the numbers floating above his head. “You hit the door pretty hard. And your coffee—“

“Yeah,” Guanheng said abruptly, only realizing after the fact that he had cut the stranger off. The man looked at him with a slight frown, and Guanheng smiled to soften the blow, a bit sheepish and a lot guilty. “Yeah,” he repeated again, a bit more relaxed. “I’m okay. Just— wasn’t paying attention.”

The man eased up a bit at that, his posture relaxing into something more confident as a smirk formed on his face. “I tend to have that effect on people,” he replied teasingly, and Guanheng had to stop himself from scoffing.

Buddy, Guanheng thought, glancing up again at the numbers. You have no idea. “I bet,” he settled on, avoiding eye contact.

The man seemed pleased at that, at least, letting out a bit of a laugh. “Here,” he offered, holding out a hand. A normal hand. A hand that definitely did not look like it belonged to someone who was over two thousand years old. Guanheng blinked at it. “Let me buy you another coffee. Since I distracted you so much that you dropped your other one.” The man nodded his head over to the mess of coffee, spilled across the floor. Guanheng should really have used his phone to call someone to help clean that up, but instead he pulled it out and offered it to the man.

“I have to go study,” Guanheng said nervously, opening up his contacts app so the man could put his number in, “but maybe I’ll take you up on that another time?”

The man blinked at Guanheng for a moment, as if he was surprised that Guanheng would actually take him up on his offer, but resumed smiling dazzlingly as he took the phone and began typing in his information. "I'll hold you to that," he said playfully, handing Guanheng's phone back, his contact already entered as 'ten' with a couple of sparkly emojis.

"Ten?" Guanheng asked, looking up with a bit of a confused expression. "Like the number?"

"Like the number," Ten replied confidently, leaning back against the door so it opened slightly behind him. He didn't seem to so much as wince at the cold air that blew in after him, though Guanheng himself shivered. "Text me?"

"Yeah," Guanheng found himself saying without thinking much of it, though once the words were out of his mouth, he couldn't quite bring himself to regret them. "Yeah, I'll text you."

Ten grinned at him one more time, brilliant and charming, before slipping out the door to the residence building. It took Guanheng a minute before he was able to shake himself out of that weird encounter, looking at his coffee spilled across the floor.

"Well," Guanheng muttered, closing Ten's contacts page and pulling up the residence maintenance number instead, "there goes my coffee."

"Hey," Dejun called, snapping his fingers in front of Guanheng's face and startling the other man out of a daze. Guanheng looked at his friend, then glanced at the number above his head before burying his face in his hands with a groan.

"Are you okay?" Dejun asked, leaning over to try and catch a glimpse of Guanheng's face. He shut the textbook that was in front of Guanheng, moving their coffees out of the way to lean against the table. "You've been out of it all day. Your exam's in three hours, you gotta focus."

"I know," Guanheng mumbled, rubbing his face to try and snap himself out of it. No matter how hard he tried to focus, though, he kept coming back to his encounter with Ten, the number 2157 circling in his brain. "Sorry, I'm trying, I just... Got stuff on my mind, I guess."

"What stuff?" Dejun asked with a frown, nudging Guanheng with his foot under the table to get him to sit up. He moved his friend's textbook out of the way as well, clearing room for their conversation. "Did something happen?"

Guanheng hesitated, glancing around the campus coffee shop. Luckily, there weren't many people around— the history department always had the misfortune of having their midterms near the end of the exam period, and most people had already finished by now, with no need to continue studying desperately for a good mark. The few people who were in the coffee shop weren't close enough to hear them, so when Dejun quirked an eyebrow at him, Guanheng swallowed his nerves. "Promise not to tell," he murmured anxiously.

Dejun rolled his eyes. "You know I won't," he said lowly, staring at Guanheng with narrowed eyes. "Come on, just say it already."

Guanheng took a deep breath, trying his best to ignore Dejun's eyeroll at his dramatics. "I met a guy the other day," he began hesitantly.

Dejun blinked at him for a few moments. "What, that's it?" he asked bluntly. "You met a guy ? And now you're too gay to pass your early medieval history midterm? Is that it?"

"Wh— no!" Guanheng spluttered, giving Dejun an affronted look. "No, not like that , you ass! I met a guy, but..." He paused to look around again one more time, just in case anyone had happened to start paying attention to their conversation in the last few seconds, then pointedly stared at the 20 above Dejun's head.

Some strange combination of emotions seemed to pass over Dejun's face in the couple of seconds that Guanheng was looking at him, too quick to decipher before it was schooled into focus. His friend clasped his hands together, leaning his elbows against the coffee table. "What about it?" he asked, his voice now pitched low and serious. "Was it... strange?"

Guanheng swallowed, suddenly nervous under Dejun's attention. It was still shocking to him how Dejun's features could seem to change so quickly from cheerful and unassuming to razor-sharp, and Guanheng felt pinned under his friend's gaze. He nodded slowly, and then, voice so quiet that he wasn't even sure Dejun could hear, he murmured, "Over two thousand."

Dejun's eyes widened with shock, his shoulders rising. Guanheng could practically see the hair rising on the back of Dejun's neck. "Fuck," his friend muttered, before he was moving closer to Guanheng, leaned in and pretty much on the edge of the seat. "What did he look like?" he asked in a rush, seeming frenzied. "Did you get his name?"

Guanheng rubbed the back of his neck, leaning away slightly. "Uh, surprisingly normal?" he admitted, trying to recall the image of Ten in his head. "Built kind of athletic, black hair, big smile and a pointed nose. Kind of short. He said his name was Ten."

Dejun's brow furrowed and he crossed his arms, leaning back. "Ten?" he prompted. "Just Ten?"

Guanheng nodded, dropping his hand from his neck to pull his phone out of his pocket. "Like the number," he confirmed, echoing Ten's confident reply from earlier that week as he pulled up his contact. "Speaking of numbers— I got his, actually. I dropped my coffee after bumping into him and he said he'd buy me another one sometime."

"Delete it," Dejun said immediately, and when Guanheng looked up from his phone, the other man was shaking his head fervently. "No way. Nope. Delete it now."

"I— what? Why?" Guanheng asked, thoroughly confused. He glanced down at Ten's contact in his phone, then back at Dejun. "I haven't texted him or anything. I wasn't gonna. I was just gonna ghost him."

"Good," Dejun replied quickly, settling back comfortably in the chair. He brushed his hair out of his face haughtily, before crossing his arms close to his chest again. "Don't text him, ever. Two thousand years old? Hell no. I don't know what that guy's deal is, but I don't want you involved with it."

Guanheng smiled at his friend— it seemed like this was just another case of Dejun's occasional dramatics, and the familiarity and fondness helped him relax. "I'm not gonna text him, stop stressing," he assured as he put his phone away. "What, scared you're gonna lose your best friend to some two thousand year old weirdo?"

Dejun scoffed at that, looking away. "Absolutely not," he quipped, though Guanheng could see the hint of a smile playing at the corner of his lips. He leaned forward, grabbing the textbook and pushing it across the table towards Guanheng. "Now study. You've still got a midterm to do."

Guanheng groaned, begrudgingly reaching out and grabbing the textbook. He looked at it for a few moments, then looked up at Dejun, who was watching him expectantly with a smirk. "Hey, Ten was probably around during this time period, do you think I could text him and ask what things were like?" he asked jokingly, then laughed loudly and held up his textbook as a shield as Dejun took a swing at him.

For a second, Guanheng thought he had gone blind, everything around him surrounded so suddenly in such complete darkness that he couldn't even see the textbook held up in front of his face. Then he blinked, promptly realized that no, he wasn't blind , and let out a groan at the same time as he heard nervous laughter from across the room.

"Xuxi," he groaned, shutting his textbook and standing up from his desk. When he opened the blinds covering the window near him, light poured in from the streetlamps outside, and he could see his roommate hovering over his insta-pot. "Again?" he asked, exasperated. "Haven't you learned from last time?"

"I thought that was a fluke!" Xuxi reasoned, waving around a plastic spoon covered in... Half-cooked macaroni and cheese? Seriously ? "I had my laptop plugged into the same outlet last time, so I thought it was just overloaded by both of those running at the same time!"

Guanheng looked at the outlet, where Xuxi's laptop was still clearly plugged in, then gave Xuxi a dead-eyed stare. Xuxi looked at him blankly for a minute, before following Guanheng's gaze to the outlet and letting out a small "oops." Guanheng just sighed, grabbing his hoodie from the back of his chair and making his way over to the door. "I'll get Kun to fix it," he muttered, only mildly appeased by Xuxi's responding shout of, "you can have some mac and cheese when you get back!"

It didn't take long for Guanheng to reach Kun's room— luckily for him and Xuxi (or unluckily, depending on how one looked at it), their room was only a couple doors down from their RAs. The little hand-made spinner affixed to Kun's door indicated that their RA was in his room now, so it only took a few moments from Guanheng knocking on the door to hear Kun's voice calling out, "Come in, it's unlocked!"

What wasn't indicated on the door was that Kun had company. In particular, company that went by the name of Ten, spread out and lounging on the sofa in Kun's room like a cat.

"Oh," Ten said when he saw him, leaning his head over the arm of the couch to get a better look. Vaguely, Guanheng realized that Ten's shirt was just a bit too short, riding up and exposing a bit of his lean, pale torso, and he looked at the number above Ten's head to distract himself. Still 2157 . "You're the one who ran into the door the other day."

Guanheng felt an embarrassed flush creep up his neck as Kun peeked his head out from the kitchenette, a mixing bowl and spatula in his hands. "You ran into a door?" he asked Guanheng, looking amused.

Guanheng opened his mouth to protest, but Ten beat him to it. "Yep. Full on smacked into it. Dropped his coffee and everything." Ten reached out to wave at Guanheng, pulling Guanheng's attention back to his now-pouting face. "You never texted me, by the way," he complained. "How am I supposed to pay you back if I can't contact you?"

Guanheng, strangely, under the embarrassment at having his misfortunes exposed in front of his RA, felt guilt creeping up inside him. "Sorry, it slipped my mind," he explained, only half lying. At first, he'd been ignoring Ten under Dejun's guidance, but with the stress of his midterms surrounding him and the exhaustion that followed studying for each of them, he really had forgotten to either text Ten or delete his number in the few days since they'd seen each other. Ten, to his credit, didn't seem very bothered by it, just shrugging as he flipped over on the couch to lay on his stomach.

"No worries, it's a hectic time. Midterms and all that," he said casually, waving his hand as if to clear the air, and for a second, Guanheng believed he was off the hook. He should have known better when Ten looked at him, a mischievous gleam in his eye. "We'll just make plans now. Is tomorrow good?"

Guanheng blinked at Ten's forward comment, feeling a bit like the floor was just yanked out from under him. "I have an exam tomorrow," he said, startled into honesty, just barely stopping himself from suggesting a different day. It was almost as if he couldn't help it— Ten was a magnet, and Guanheng found it difficult to keep his mind (and eyes) off of him whenever he was nearby.

Ten grinned at him, looking like the cat that got the cream. "The day after, then," he said, less of a suggestion and more of a statement. "3 o'clock sound good to you?"

In the moment, Guanheng couldn't think of a good enough excuse to turn him down. Reluctantly, he nodded his head. Ten smirked.

"Ten!" Kun's voice suddenly snapped from the kitchen, startling Guanheng and making him whip his head towards the voice. Kun was walking out of the kitchen, wiping his hands angrily on a kitchen towel. He flung the same towel at Ten, who dodged it easily with a laugh. "Stop hitting on my resident!" Kun scolded, and Guanheng felt his eyes go wide when Ten laughed instead of denying anything.

Kun let out a sigh as he came into a stop in front of Guanheng, his shoulders seeming to sag under the weight of Ten's mischief, before he straightened up to look at Guanheng. "Sorry about him," he said sincerely, not even glancing over his shoulder when Ten booed him. "Did you need something?"

Guanheng shook his head hurriedly, holding his hands up. "It's okay, he's not bothering me," he found himself defending Ten, trying hard to keep his eyes on Kun and not where Ten was watching him from across the room, his expression growing pleased at Guanheng's words. "Xuxi just blew the fuse in our room again, and I was wondering if you could fix it?"

Kun shook his head with a sigh, though his expression was fond. "Of course he did," the RA muttered, and Guanheng let out a sheepish laugh. As annoying as it was for Guanheng whenever Xuxi did something like this, Guanheng was sure it was infinitely more annoying for Kun, who always had to clean up the messes of Xuxi along with everyone else on their floor. If anyone should be buying anyone coffee, Guanheng should be buying one for Kun as thanks for putting up with all of their shit. Kun didn't complain, though, even as he slipped on his shoes by the door and grabbed his keys.

"Okay, come on, I'll fix it," Kun said, opening the door for Guanheng to step out first. He peered around the door at Ten before he left, fixing him with a glare. "Do not go into the kitchen," he warned, "or I'll force-feed you fruit."

"Wouldn't dream of it!" Guanheng heard Ten call, before the door shut behind Kun as they took off down the hall. Guanheng looked back at it for a few moments, before jogging to catch up with Kun.

"Force-feed him fruit?" Guanheng asked confusedly, echoing the strange threat. Kun just let out a tired sigh, seeming like he'd been asked the same question several times.

"He doesn't eat fruit," Kun explained simply, nodding gravely at Guanheng's disgusted expression. "I know. Heathen. It's terrible."

"How do you even know him, anyways?" Guanheng asked, leaning up against the wall as him and Kun reached the electrical box for their floor. Guanheng watched as Kun picked through his many keys to find the right one to unlock it, prying the old metal panel open. "No offense, but he doesn't seem like the type of person you'd hang out with."

Kun let out a sigh, scanning along the switches in the panel to find the one that was off. "Him and I are in the same masters program," he clarified, and Guanheng let out a little "oh". "We're teacher assistants for the same class, and we both run the tutorials. We work together a lot, so we kind of became friends that way."

Kun flipped a switch, and a second later, Xuxi's excited yelling could be heard down the hall. Guanheng grinned as Kun let out a soft laugh, closing the panel back up. "I'm guessing that fixed it," Guanheng said, pushing off of the wall. "Thanks, Kun."

"Any time," Kun replied, locking up the electrical box once again. Guanheng turned to head back to his room, but Kun calling his name stopped him. When he turned back around, his RA was looking at him intensely, markedly more serious than a few moments ago. Guanheng had to resist the urge to shiver and shrink under his gaze. "If Ten really is bothering you, don't be afraid to tell me, okay?" he added genuinely. "Him and I may be friends, but I'm not afraid to tell him what's what."

Guanheng nodded, swallowing around the lump in his throat. "Okay," he replied, and Kun was back to smiling at his acquiescence. "I'll let you know if I need you."

"It's what I'm here for," Kun said with a shrug, jovial. He took a few steps back to his room, then suddenly turned around. "Oh, also," he said, still smiling even though his tone had turned icy. "Tell Xuxi that if he blows a fuse again, I'm confiscating his insta-pot."

Guanheng let out a laugh at that, but he knew Kun was dead serious. The RA may be nice, but he certainly wasn't a pushover when he had set his mind on something. "I'll let him know," he promised, and with a wave, Kun headed back to his room.

When Guanheng opened the door to his and Xuxi's room, the smell of warm macaroni and cheese wafted out, and Guanheng shut the door as he watched Xuxi fish out two bowls from under his desk for them. "Are those clean?" he asked, and Xuxi paused, then answered with an uncertain, "Yes."

Not for the first time, Guanheng was too tired to argue with Xuxi, simply taking the bowl when it was handed to him and sitting down at his desk. "What took you so long, dude?" Xuxi asked, as Guanheng shoved his textbook away to make room for his bowl. "You were gone for forever."

Guanheng thought back to how Ten looked sprawled out on Kun's couch and shivered. "Ran into someone," he answered in a rush, before hurriedly stuffing a spoonful of noodles into his mouth so he could avoid addressing Xuxi's curious look. "Kun says he's gonna confiscate your insta-pot if you blow a fuse again," he added to change the subject, snorting around the noodles as Xuxi let out a groan.

"So," Ten said, leaning back in his chair and crossing his legs. He twirled the straw of his cold brew around the glass, ice clanging against the cup. Across from him, Guanheng had his hands wrapped around the warm mug of his latte, trying to warm his fingers up. "What was your major again? Something liberal arts, right?"

"History," Guanheng replied, and Ten let out a noise of understanding, taking a sip of his coffee. Guanheng watched, curious as to how anyone could drink something so cold and bitter when winter was beginning to creep in. "And you? What's your major?"

"Classics," Ten answered easily. Guanheng nodded at the answer. It seemed fitting. "It's an MA program. I did my bachelor's in classical literature back in Thailand."

Guanheng glanced at the number above Ten's head, taking a slow sip of his latte. Sure you did . "Oh, yeah?" he asked curiously, innocently, looking at Ten again. "When did you graduate?"

This wasn't a date, Guanheng had told himself. This was a test. No romantic feelings behind it, whatsoever. Ten wasn't just another dude Guanheng was having coffee with— he was two thousand years old , and Guanheng was trying to figure out what his deal was. That's what this outing was— not a date.

"Oh, just last spring," Ten answered easily. Guanheng blinked when Ten put his coffee down suddenly, pulling his phone from his pocket. "I've got pictures, actually," he explained, scrolling through his phone. "Wanna see?"

Guanheng hardly had time to reply before Ten was holding his phone out, showing a picture to him. On the screen was Ten, undeniably, in a cap and gown as he smiled brightly at the camera. Next to him was a girl, similar in appearance to Ten, dressed fashionably with an arm around Ten's shoulders.

"That's me and my sister," Ten explained, and Guanheng looked at him in surprise before he could stop himself. A sister? "She's pretty, right? Annoying as hell, though, but I guess she's okay sometimes. Don't we look alike?"

Guanheng looked back at the picture again, taking a closer look. He couldn't see people's ages through pictures— unfortunately, his ability only applied to people he could see in the flesh, so he couldn't tell if the girl in the picture really was Ten's sister and therefore also probably over two thousand years old. But they looked similar enough that, to a normal person, there would be no question about whether or not they were related, so Guanheng nodded. "Yeah, you can see the resemblance," he answered, zooming in on the girl's face. "She's pretty."

Ten grinned, pulling his phone away from Guanheng as he leaned closer to him across the table. "Does that mean you think I'm pretty too?" he asked cheekily, then burst out laughing as Guanheng pulled back with red cheeks.

"I'm kidding!" Ten giggled, looking positively delighted at Guanheng's embarrassment. He picked up his coffee, biting his straw as Guanheng looked away to take a sip of his latte. "If you did, though, I wouldn't mind. I swing both ways," he added casually, and Guanheng choked.

Ten laughed again, and Guanheng looked at him with wide eyes, his face and neck burning hot. What was this guy's deal? "I thought you were just paying me back for the coffee," he said with a nervous laugh, and Ten looked at him with raised eyebrows.

"Oh, come on, you're not that stupid," he replied, and Guanheng felt his face warm even further. "Unless you are, in which case I'm sorry. But I'm pretty sure my intentions about you were clear."

In the back of Guanheng's head, he could hear a voice that sounded suspiciously like Dejun scolding him. Leave. Delete his number. Tell Kun. Never see this guy again . It was in his best interest, that Guanheng knew for certain, but somehow, he found himself shaking his head. "They were clear," he assured, and Ten's eyebrows flew up a bit higher, though a grin began to spread on his face. "I, uh... Swing the same way you do, I guess."

Ten was fully grinning at him now, clearly satisfied, and Guanheng shrunk a bit under it. Nervously, he glanced up to the number floating above Ten's glossy black hair. "Huh," Ten said, with feigned casualness, though he was looking at Guanheng like he was sizing him up. "Guess we're on the same page, then."

As much as Guanheng didn't want this to be a date, it was absolutely a date. The atmosphere of the cafe, with the low, warm lighting and the wood decor, painted Ten in pretty shades of orange and red. The knit sweater sliding low over his collar and shoulders kept drawing Guanheng's attention, and the grin on Ten's face whenever his eyes drifted to it made Guanheng even more flustered. And, as many questions as Guanheng asked to try and learn about Ten's life, the other man had an answer to them all. He was three years older than Guanheng. He grew up in Bangkok. He went to an international school, he used to dance, he loved music. He was full of stories, little anecdotes about his life, his family and friends, all of them delivered convincingly and smoothly. By all accounts, he was a normal guy in his mid-twenties, other than the damned 2157 .

As they left the cafe, Guanheng looked at the number above Ten's head again, squinting at it. Maybe his power was starting to fail him, and Ten really was the guy he said he was. He startled, though, when Ten's hand flew to the top of his head, patting at his hair.

"What?" he asked, looking up at Guanheng curiously. Guanheng hoped he didn't look as shocked as he felt. "Is there something wrong with my hair?"

Guanheng relaxed a bit at that— as if Ten could have known what he was looking at. "You just had a piece sticking up," he lied, taking the out Ten had given him. He reached up, combing down a section of Ten's hair with his fingers to double down on it, not realizing how that might seem until he pulled back to see Ten watching him closely. Instantly, heat rose to his cheeks again, and he let out a nervous laugh. "Fixed it," he added, a bit belatedly, and Ten smiled.

"This is probably forward," Ten said suddenly, and Guanheng blinked at him, "but you're really cute and I want to see you again. Are you busy Saturday?"

Guanheng was too startled to think of an excuse. His midterms were over by now, and he didn't have any plans already made with any of his friends, so when he opened his mouth to argue, nothing came out. He shut it again, then shook his head. "I, uh," he began, feeling the weight of Ten's sharp eyes on him. "I should be free."

The grin that spread across Ten's face made Guanheng's stomach flip. "Great, give me your phone," he said, holding a hand out. Still a normal hand. "I'm gonna text myself, so I actually have your number and you can't ghost me this time."

Guanheng felt a bit of guilt settle in his chest at the comment, and he let out a nervous laugh. "I didn't actually mean to ghost you," he answered, a half-truth as he unlocked his phone and handed it to Ten. "I was just really busy."

"Sure you were," Ten said amusedly, typing away on Guanheng's phone. A couple seconds later, he heard a buzz coming from Ten, and the older man handed Guanheng's phone back as he pulled his own out of his pocket. "Great," he added, waving the phone at Guanheng— on the screen was a notification, a text from Guanheng's number. "I'll text you the details, then."

"You already have something in mind?" Guanheng asked, pocketing his own phone. Ten just nodded.

"I've always got a plan," he replied charmingly, and before Guanheng realized what was happening, Ten leaned in, his lips landing on Guanheng's cheek in a sweet kiss. He pulled back before Guanheng could say anything, watching with wide eyes and a red face as Ten waved and started to walk away.

"See you Saturday!" Ten called over his shoulder, and by the time Guanheng gathered himself, he was gone, leaving Guanheng feeling like he'd just been swept off his feet.

"Dude," Dejun said around a mouthful of chicken. He had a beer in one hand, a piece of fried chicken squeezed between his chopsticks in the other, looking perfectly at home in his ratty sweatshirt on Guanheng's dorm room floor. "You've been acting weird all day."

Guanheng felt himself grow tense at the statement. It had been two days since he had seen Ten, but it would be a lie to say that he could get the other man off his mind so easily. "What?" Guanheng bluffed, feigning ignorance as he grabbed another piece of chicken, though he knew it wasn't convincing. "I'm not acting anything. I'm normal."

"You're a fucking shit liar, that's what," Dejun fired back, and Guanheng winced. He should have known better than to try and get something by Dejun. "You're being weird. What happened?"

"Nothing happened," Guanheng tried, taking a bite of chicken, but at Dejun's annoyed huff, he knew better than to keep going with this. "Alright," he acquiesced, avoiding Dejun's gaze, "but you're gonna be mad at me."

"I'm always mad at you," Dejun replied jokingly, taking a sip of his beer, but his gaze grew serious nonetheless, clearly bracing himself for whatever Guanheng was going to say. Guanheng, similarly, braced himself for Dejun's reaction. "Now tell me."

Guanheng sighed, putting down his piece of chicken on the lid of the container. He pointedly ignored Dejun's wince at that. "I met up with Ten on Wednesday," he said carefully, watching Dejun carefully for his reaction.

It took a minute for Dejun to put the pieces together, clearly not remembering immediately who Ten was, but when he did, his eyes grew wide and he threw his chopsticks at Guanheng. "You idiot!" he shouted, affronted, as Guanheng yelped, rubbing at where the wooden chopsticks hit his shoulder. "What the fuck did I say!?"

"I know!" Guanheng defended himself. "I know what you said! But I ran into him on Monday, and he kinda cornered me on it! I didn't have a choice!"

"You could have been a no-show!" Dejun reminded, still shouting. "You could have just not gone! Deleted his number! Blocked it! Avoided him! What the hell were you thinking?"

Guanheng groaned, rubbing his face. "I wanted to know if what I was seeing was true," he tried to explain, only half lying about it. "He really doesn't seem like he's two thousand years old, you know."

"I don't care what he seems like," Dejun argued adamantly. He took a swig of his beer angrily, and Guanheng had to try to stifle a laugh at how he looked doing that while still trying to glare at Guanheng. "He is two thousand years old! Guanheng! Do you not see how fucked up that is?"

"No no no, hear me out," Guanheng said, holding his hands out. Dejun already looked decidedly unimpressed, and the words hadn't even left Guanheng's mouth yet. "What if my power was wrong?"

Immediately, Dejun's face was in his hands, his palms sliding up his face so he could tug at his hair. "Oh my god," he said tiredly, "please tell me you are not trying to make excuses for a two thousand year old man, Guanheng."

"It's not an excuse, it's a legitimate concern," Guanheng replied, his pride a bit bruised. "You haven't even heard what I have to say!"

"I don't need to hear it because it's bullshit," Dejun shot back, and Guanheng leaned back on his hands, actually a bit put out. He knew Dejun was just trying to look out for him in his own aggressive, stubborn way, but he'd hoped that Dejun would at least listen to what he thought.

Thankfully, Dejun seemed to realize that Guanheng was actually serious after a few moments, and he let out a long, pained sigh, his shoulders slumping. "Fine," he agreed reluctantly, and Guanheng sat up a bit straighter. "Fine, fuck, tell me why your age-power-whatever has decided to start failing you after twenty years. Enlighten me."

Guanheng sighed, leaning forward. "Okay, listen," he said seriously. "I was trying to question him about his life, right? Trying to find holes in his story, something that would explain his age. And... There weren't any." He shrugged, holding his empty hands out. Dejun looked markedly unimpressed. "Nothing. He had an answer to everything. He had all these little stories about his life, and they all made sense. He even had pictures!"

Dejun let out a huff, examining the label on his beer bottle closely. "Guanheng, I don't know how to tell you this," he replied patronizingly, "but two thousand years gives someone a long time to get good at lying and at photoshop." Guanheng groaned in response, flopping down onto his back.

"Besides," Dejun continued, grabbing another piece of chicken as Guanheng sat up again. "Why him? Why now? Your power hasn't failed you yet. This doesn't make any sense."

"I don't know," Guanheng said miserably. "I don't get it. It doesn't make any sense to me either. But you never know. Maybe my power is just starting to fail in general, and I'll—"

He cut off abruptly when the door to his dorm room opened, startling him at the same time as Dejun, who dropped his chicken onto the carpet. The two of them turned to look at the door and saw Xuxi, peeking his head inside, a bashful expression on his face.

"Sorry," he said hurriedly, stepping inside the room, and Guanheng's stomach dropped. "Sorry, I didn't mean to eavesdrop.."

"Oh my god," Guanheng said, hands flying to his head, at the same time as Dejun asked, "How much did you hear?"

"Not a lot," Xuxi answered, the door clicking shut behind him, but Guanheng hardly heard it. He'd made it into his second year of living with Xuxi without having to tell him about his power, taking care not to look at the number above Xuxi's own head or to let anything slip in conversation, and now it was all ruined. "But something about a power, and two thousand years..."

Guanheng shot Dejun a despairing look, trying to find a way out of the situation, but Dejun just looked resigned. He scooted over on the carpet, making room for Xuxi as he grabbed another bottle of beer. "Xuxi, come sit down," he invited, and Guanheng shook his head no at Dejun mutely, but his friend wasn't having any of it. "Yes," he fired back, putting the bottle of beer in Xuxi's hands as he sat down. "You have to tell him. Now, go on."

Xuxi, to his credit, looked like he had no clue what was going on, looking between Dejun and Guanheng with wide eyes as he folded his long limbs to sit on the carpet. "Tell me what?" he asked curiously, and Dejun shot Guanheng another look. At that, Guanheng simply deflated, the fight leaving him as his shoulders sagged and his hands fell.

"Xuxi," he began seriously, staring down at the floor. "I have... An ability."

"Oh, sick," his roommate replied immediately, and Guanheng heard Dejun let out an amused snort. "Like a superhero, man, that's cool. What can you do?"

Guanheng bit his lip. In all his years, he could count on one hand the number of people who he had told about his power, Dejun being the only one of his friends who had ever known. Now, he was forced to tell his roommate. "I can see people's age," he answered, glancing up at Xuxi, who was watching him with something akin to wonder as he spoke. "Like, the number. Floating above their head."

Xuxi sat there for a few moments, still and silent, and for a moment, Guanheng was worried that Xuxi would be upset with him, or call him a liar. Then, his hands shot up to the top of his head, clearly trying to cover up where he thought the number was.

"How old am I?" he asked eagerly, and Guanheng blinked at him for a few moments, not sure if he was serious. But Xuxi was looking at him earnestly, filled with wonder and curiosity, so Guanheng straightened up. "You're twenty, Xuxi," he answered, and Xuxi let out a noise of amazement.

Then his hands were flying out to rest on top of Dejun's head, the shorter man flinching violently, clearly thinking he was about to be hit. "How old is he?!" Xuxi pressed, and Guanheng had to try to stifle a laugh.

"He's also twenty," Guanheng answered amusedly. "We're all the same age."

Xuxi let out another astonished noise, sitting back on his palms. "Holy shit," he murmured, eyes wide. "You're right."

Dejun let out a snort of laughter, trying to bury it in his hands. Guanheng had to cough to cover a laugh. Clearly Xuxi had forgotten that the three of them had spent each of their twentieth birthdays together, but he didn't need to know that.

"Oh man," Xuxi continued, leaning forward and putting his head in his hands. "Oh man, dude, that's so fucking crazy."

"Yep," Guanheng replied amusedly, popping the word in his mouth. He shared a look with Dejun, who was clearly trying not to lose his shit. "Pretty fuckin' crazy, dude."

Xuxi sat there in silence for a few moments, head in his hands, before he shook his head and sat back up. "Okay okay okay," he said, waving his hands. "My roommate has crazy superpowers or whatever. But what was that other thing? About two thousand years? Are you immortal too or something?"

Guanheng clammed up a bit, and Dejun gave him another look, encouraging him to go on. "No, it's not about me," he explained eventually, nervous. "I, uh, met this guy. And apparently he's two thousand years old."

Xuxi's eyes widened to a nearly comical size and he lurched forward, slamming his hands on the floor and narrowly missing the box of fried chicken spread out in front of them. " What ?" he nearly shouted, and Dejun was quick to hush him. He waved Dejun off blindly, flailing his hands in Dejun's general direction and almost hitting him in the process. Guanheng cringed at Xuxi's volume, looking nervously at the door. He didn't need anyone else hearing about this. "This dude's two thousand years old ?!"

"Yes, now quiet down," Dejun hissed, nudging Xuxi hard so the taller man would get the memo. "We don't want the whole floor hearing you."

"Sorry, sorry," Xuxi was quick to say, moving away from Dejun and giving the elbow that had nudged him an affronted look. Dejun just sniffed as Xuxi turned his gaze back to Guanheng. "But, holy shit dude," he continued, quieter now yet still as wide eyed as before. "What's his deal? Is he like a vampire or something? A ghost?"

"I don't know yet," Guanheng answered, opening his mouth to elaborate before Dejun cut him off with a huff. "Yet you'll still go on a date with him," his best friend cut in, and Guanheng felt his face turn red as Xuxi's jaw dropped.

Guanheng reached over their spread of fried chicken to take a swing at Dejun, who dodged it easily, scooting back across the carpet. "It wasn't a date ," he protested adamantly, flustered. Dejun was smirking at him to boot, looking satisfied at Guanheng's embarrassment. "He was just paying me back for the coffee I dropped— Dejun, I swear to god —"

"Hey," Xuxi suddenly cut in, and when Guanheng turned to look at him, his shoulders were raised in a shrug as he shook his head. "If you wanna fuck some weird monster, that's on you, man."

Guanheng looked at Xuxi in horror for a few moments, until Dejun burst out into a cackle and Guanheng had to bury his head in his hands. He really needed new friends.

"Hey," Xuxi said when Guanheng headed for the door of their dorm room. Guanheng froze, hand on the doorknob, as Xuxi pushed his chair back from his desk and slid his headphones off his ears. He was hoping his roommate wouldn't notice him leaving. "Where are you headed?"

Guanheng swallowed around the lump in his throat, trying to think of how he wanted to answer. He couldn't exactly say that he was going to meet Ten, not after his last hang out with Dejun and Xuxi. Before Dejun had left, he'd made sure to drive his views on Ten home again— delete his number, block him, ghost him and remove him from your life. Guanheng didn't have the heart at the time to tell him that he'd already made plans with Ten after their last meeting, nor did he have the heart to ghost Ten entirely, so he'd just nodded along to what Dejun said until the other man had left, satisfied. But Xuxi had been with them, so he'd surely heard Dejun's warnings, and if he found out that Guanheng was going out to see Ten, Guanheng wasn't sure if his roommate would let him leave.

He shifted on the spot, anxiously trying to think of something, but it seemed like Xuxi's mind moved faster than his. "Oh," his roommate said, and Guanheng looked over with a worried expression. "Are you going to see that monster dude?"

Guanheng spluttered, waving his hands in front of him. "He's not a monster," he corrected, offended. "I don't know what he is yet."

"So you are seeing him!" Xuxi exclaimed pleasedly, and Guanheng's hands dropped. Shit . Thankfully, Xuxi seemed not to care too much, simply getting up and shutting his laptop. "That's cool," he continued, starting to gather his things. "I'll head somewhere else for the night."

It took Guanheng a second, but once he realized what Xuxi was implying, heat began to creep up the back of his neck. "No no no," he tried to protest, "it's not like that, Xuxi, you don't have to go anywhere—"

"Dude, you look like you're going to a club," Xuxi pointed out bluntly, and Guanheng snapped his mouth shut, ears burning. He hadn't thought he had dressed that obviously, but it seemed like nothing was getting by Xuxi now. "Even if it's not like that with him, it might be like that with someone else you meet there. So I'll go chill somewhere else for the night, no big deal."

Guanheng still felt himself steaming with embarrassment, but part of him underneath that appreciated Xuxi's easygoing nature and willingness to accommodate others. Even though he blew the fuse in their room trying to use his insta-pot sometimes, he wasn't a bad roommate. "Thanks, man," he settled on, watching as Xuxi shoved his laptop into his backpack. "You're the realest."

"Of course I am," Xuxi said, striking a pose with a grin so ridiculous that Guanheng had to laugh. Xuxi joined in on the laughter, breaking the pose to shoo Guanheng out the door. "Okay, go, don't keep your monster dude waiting."

"He's not a monster!" Guanheng called as he stepped out the door, but Xuxi was already waving him off, closing the door behind him.

Ten had texted him the address of where he wanted to meet earlier in the day, so Guanheng knew that the place they were going to was a club. What he didn't expect, though, was for the club to be packed with people, all heavy bass and flashing lights and hedonism seeping from every corner. Ten had texted him a name to give at the door, so Guanheng got inside instantly, skipping the long line of people curved around the outside of the building. At the bar, Ten was waiting, a drink in his hand and a smirk on his face.

Here, in the dark lights of the club, Ten seemed to be a different person. Instead of the casualwear Guanheng had seen him in the last few times they met, Ten was dressed in a way that made it hard for Guanheng to imagine him in anything else. His shirt was silver, reflective, thin and draping across his chest, the top few buttons undone to show a wide expanse of golden skin. The hem of the shirt was tucked into a pair of jeans that accentuated his waist and hugged his legs, although the amount of tears in the jeans revealed more skin than they covered. His skin seemed to sparkle each time the lights flashed, and when he looked over at Guanheng, he realized that Ten's eyes were lined and glittered, making him seem feline.

The number floating above his head got lost in the moving lights, obscuring it from view. Guanheng couldn't tell if that was a good or bad thing.

"Oh good," Ten said, raising his voice over the music as Guanheng sidled up next to him at the bar. He was smirking already, and Guanheng's eyes followed the curve of his lips. "I was starting to think you were a no-show."

"Just got held up with my roommate," Guanheng explained, flagging the bartender down to get himself a drink. He was already feeling a bit self-conscious next to Ten, clad in an artfully distressed band tee and tight jeans. "Sorry I kept you waiting."

Ten waved a hand dismissively as he picked up his drink with the other, taking a slow sip. "Don't worry about it," he told Guanheng, pausing so Guanheng could place his drink order. "So," he continued, once Guanheng had a drink of his own— rum and coke, a college staple. "Is your roommate going to be a problem for us later tonight?"

Guanheng was glad he hadn't taken a sip yet— if he'd been drinking, he would have certainly choked on it. As it stood, he simply coughed, eyes wide as he looked at Ten. "I'm sorry?" he asked, feeling a bit winded.

Ten was just grinning, head tipped to the side. Guanheng followed the line of the tendons in his neck, from his jaw down beneath the collar of his shirt. "You heard me," he replied coolly, and Guanheng took a long drink to try and gather himself.

"Isn't it a little soon for that?" he settled on once he had swallowed, his glass already half empty. He hadn't even tasted it. "We just got here."

"Well," Ten mused, leaning forward along the bar towards him. Like this, the collar of his shirt dipped down, and Guanheng couldn't decide what was worse— looking down at Ten's body or keeping his eyes on Ten's wolfish grin. "If I asked, would you say no?"

Guanheng couldn't even think of a way to get out of answering. He simply shook his head, eyes locked on Ten's smile, all teeth. "No," he said honestly, feeling a bit like he'd been caught in a trap. "No, I wouldn't."

Ten laughed, then, loud and bright, before pulling back to finish off his drink. He set the glass back down on the bartop, pushing it away from him, then turned back to Guanheng. "Alright, finish your drink," he ordered, and Guanheng lifted his glass to his lips to obediently. Ten's eyes seemed to glow in the dark club, and Guanheng's heart was beating as loud as the music. "I want to dance."

Guanheng woke up the next morning to a warm back pressed against his chest and a pounding noise coming from his door.

He squinted as he awoke, rubbing at his eyes as he tried to pry them open. What time was it? The clock on Xuxi's desk across the room said it was half past ten, but Guanheng felt like he'd only been asleep for five minutes. He didn't feel hungover, thankfully, but his body ached from muscles well used as he sat up, sliding out of bed to fetch his boxers.

Underneath the sheets, Ten stretched, his back arching. Guanheng followed the line of it with his spine as he tried to grab his shirt, hand swiping at nothing for a few moments before he finally looked away to grab it. When he finished tugging it over his head, Ten was watching him, on his stomach with his head pillowed in his arms. "Aw," he said cheekily, and Guanheng had to look away when he realized he could see a string of hickeys trailing down Ten's neck. "I liked you better with that off."

Guanheng's heart tumbled in his chest and he opened his mouth to attempt a response, but the pounding at his door started up again, reminding him as to why he had left Ten alone in his bed in the first place. He pointed over his shoulder at the door mutely, and Ten just nodded, shooing him towards it as he stretched again.

When Guanheng opened the door, Dejun was standing on the other side, a frantic expression on his face that immediately dissolved into relief when Guanheng appeared. "Oh thank goodness," he said, shoulders sagging as he pressed his fingers against his temples. "You're here, thank goodness. I ran into Xuxi and he told me that you were going to meet that— that thing again last night and then you weren't answering the phone and I just wanted to make sure that..."

He trailed off as he looked back at Guanheng, and Guanheng was confused for a moment before a vivid memory of Ten's lips on his neck last night came hurtling to the forefront of his mind. He smacked a hand over his neck hurriedly, heat rising to his face, but the damage was already done— Dejun's expression darkened, and he all but shoved Guanheng to the side to look into the room.

Ten was still spread out across Guanheng's bed, mercily covered by his blankets, but the trail of clothes leading from the door to the bed made it clear exactly what Ten was wearing underneath. Guanheng watched in horror as Ten lifted his head, giving Dejun a wave. "Oh, hi," he said casually, a cool smile on his lips. "Are you the roommate?"

Dejun looked at Ten for a few seconds, silent, before he yanked Guanheng out of the room, slamming the door shut behind them. "So," he snapped, and Guanheng looked away guiltily, already knowing he was fucked. "When were you going to tell me about this, huh?"

Guanheng rubbed at his neck, unable to look at Dejun. "It's not him," he tried, but Dejun immediately scoffed.

"Don't you try that shit with me," he said bitterly, and Guanheng pursed his lips, letting out a sigh through his nose. "I'm not dumb enough for that, and you know I won't fall for it, anyways. So when were you planning on telling me, huh? When he kidnaps you, or whatever things like him do? When you're dead?"

Guanheng rolled his eyes, dropping his hand from his neck to cross his arms. It was too early in the morning for Dejun's dramatics. "Dejun, calm down," he said placatingly. "You don't even know him. He's not a bad person."

"He's not even a person as far as we know," Dejun hissed back, having the sense to keep his voice down in the hallway. He glanced over his shoulder, making sure no one was around to listen in before turning back to Guanheng. "He's over two thousand years old, Guanheng," he continued, whispering harshly. His dark eyebrows were furrowed, jaw tensed. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"I'm not doing anything bad ," Guanheng protested, and felt annoyance flare inside him when Dejun scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Why the hell are you so against this, anyways?" he pressed, and Dejun threw his brows up as he listened to Guanheng. "It's not even your business. It's my life, not yours."

Dejun looked at him for a few moments, before he let out a huff of disbelieving laughter. "Because I'm your best friend, you idiot ," he said after a few moments, and Guanheng's heart dropped when he picked up on the thinly-masked hurt in Dejun's voice. Shit . "And I care about you, as much as you may hate that. I was trying to look out for you, but yeah, I guess it's not my business."

"No no no," Guanheng said hurriedly, realizing where this was going. He tried to reach out for Dejun, but the other man just moved out of his grasp, pushing Guanheng's hands away. "Dejun, that's not what I meant—"

"No, you're right," Dejun interrupted. He wasn't looking at Guanheng now, and god, it hurt. "It's your life. Do whatever you want. I'm done here." He made to leave, turning away, but Guanheng managed to catch his shoulder, tugging him back. "Dejun—"

His hand was pushed off Dejun's shoulder in an instant, and Guanheng watched in stunned silence as Dejun pulled away harshly, hurt and betrayal all over his face. "Don't," he snapped bitterly. "You said what you said and it's clear what you want. I'll get out of your way now." Before Guanheng could say anything else, he was gone, taking off down the hallway with quick, tense strides.

It took Guanheng a few moments to gather himself enough to go back inside, but when he did, Ten was sitting up in bed, his underwear back on and his unbuttoned shirt draped loosely over himself. "Everything okay?" he asked, and when Guanheng looked up, he realized that Ten looked genuinely concerned, watching as Guanheng shut the door quietly.

"Yeah," Guanheng said at first, but with each trudging footstep across the room, he felt his hastily crafted composure crumble. "Yeah, no, actually," he managed, before he flopped down onto the bed, pressing his face into the pillow and holding his breath. A few seconds later, he felt Ten's hand begin to card gently through his hair, tugging softly on the strands, and he let out a shaky sigh.

"I'm guessing that wasn't your roommate?" Ten asked, and Guanheng shook his head, pulling his face out from the pillow and turning his head to look away from Ten.

"No," he answered, closing his eyes as Ten continued to stroke his hair. "No, that would be my best friend, Dejun."

Ten let out a contemplative hum. His hand stopped stroking Guanheng's hair for a moment, and Guanheng both heard and felt him rearranging himself to lay down on the bed as well, Ten's hand returning to his hair once he was settled. "I'm guessing he doesn't like me," he said quietly after a few beats of silence, and Guanheng let out a defeated sigh.

"Dejun doesn't like a lot of people," he tried at first, but at Ten's continued silence, he picked his head up, shifting to lay on his side facing Ten. Ten was watching him with a surprisingly soft expression, leftover glitter from the night before catching on the light coming in through his dorm room window and making his eyes sparkle. The white numbers 2157 hovered over his head. "But yeah," he continued eventually, moving a hand to rest on Ten's lean waist. "He... Doesn't really like you."

Ten just let out another hum, his nails scratching lightly along Guanheng's scalp. Guanheng's eyelids fluttered at the feeling. "You should talk to him," Ten said encouragingly after a few more moments of silence. "It isn't good to fight with your friends."

Guanheng let out a noise of agreement, his fingers beginning to trace patterns along Ten's side. He felt goosebumps rise on Ten's skin, then smoothed his palm over them, calming. "You're right, I should," he began, "but I don't know if he'll listen to what I have to say."

The corners of Ten's lips quirked up, his gaze distant as if recalling a memory from long ago. Guanheng wanted to know what he was thinking, what went on inside Ten's head— he wanted to know everything about him. "If he's really your best friend," Ten replied eventually, his voice the gentlest Guanheng had ever heard it, "then he'll listen to you. You just have to trust him."

Guilt trickled into Guanheng's stomach at Ten's words, bitter and painful enough for him to have to close his eyes. If he had trusted Dejun, he wouldn't be laying next to Ten right now, but he couldn't say that. Thankfully, Ten didn't seem to push him for another answer, simply letting them sit in silence for a few minutes more.

Eventually, Ten shifted again, and Guanheng felt soft lips press against his temple. "I should get going," he said, and Guanheng wanted to protest but couldn't find the words. He was exhausted. "Let me know how things go with Dejun, okay?"

Guanheng took a deep breath, letting it out slow and measured. He listened with his eyes still shut as Ten slipped out of bed, dressing in the rest of his clothes. "Okay," he finally said, curling up in the spot Ten had vacated. "I'll text you."

In lieu of an answer, Guanheng felt Ten's lips pressed against his temple again, a hand stroking over his shoulder gently. "I'll see you later," he murmured, breath warm against his skin, and a few moments of soft footsteps later, Guanheng heard the door creak open, then click shut.

Guanheng jolted when he heard Xuxi's laptop slam shut, his phone falling on his face. "Dude," Xuxi huffed, as Guanheng yelped and rubbed at his forehead, his phone bouncing onto his bed. "Can you please stop moping? You're killing my vibe."

"I'm not moping," Guanheng said, decidedly mopily. He turned over in bed to find Xuxi looking at him from his desk, twisted in his chair with an arm slung over the back. "Also, no one says that anymore."

"I say it," Xuxi protested, frowning at Guanheng, "and I also say that you're moping. So stop it."

Guanheng groaned, rolling onto his back and pulling his pillow out from under his head. He smushed the pillow onto his face, wanting to just disappear for a while. "Can't a man mourn his ruined friendship and ruined relationship in peace?" he lamented, though the dramatics of it were lost in the muffle of the pillow.

"Nothing's ruined," Xuxi reminded him. Guanheng pulled the pillow off of his face, watching as Xuxi turned back to his laptop. He opened it again, and Guanheng looked away quickly when he realized what was on Xuxi's screen. "Now stop moping and go talk to Dejun or whatever. It's been two days already."

"It hasn't even been a full day," Guanheng said, though he dragged himself out of bed anyways, kicking the blankets off of himself and sliding onto the floor. He pulled himself up and to his side of the closet, carefully avoiding seeing Xuxi's laptop screen even out of the corner of his eye. "And if you wanted to jack off, you could do it in the shower."

"Kills the vibe," Xuxi answered unashamedly, as Guanheng changed from his sweats into something a bit more appropriate for going outside. "I like to be comfortable. Do you mind?"

Guanheng sighed as he grabbed a sweater out of the closet as well, toeing on his shoes by the door. "It's part of being roommates," he answered, and Xuxi's thumbs up was the last thing he saw as he stepped out the door.

Guanheng pulled out his phone as he stepped out of the building, thumbing open his messages and hovering over Dejun's name. He thought about calling him, but knowing how petty Dejun could be, he wouldn't be surprised if his friend would leave him on read just to get back at him. So instead, he tucked his phone back into his pocket, making his way towards the campus bus loop.

Guanheng had been to Dejun's house a grand total of one time, back in first year when the two of them had just met. They'd been in the same tutorial for Guanheng's first university class ever, a general education course for everyone in liberal arts, and he'd just so happened to be paired up with Dejun for a pair presentation. The charismatic and passionate theology-anthropology double major had somehow endeared Guanheng, and soon, Dejun was a permanent fixture in his life, the two of them spending countless hours studying together in the library, eating meals together in the cafeteria, or hanging out in Guanheng's dorm. He'd never gone back to Dejun's house after that one work session— but as he got off the bus, forty minutes away from campus in a completely different part of town, Guanheng knew exactly where it was.

Sandwiched between two high-rise buildings, Dejun's house was an old, traditional style home, with a shingled roof and wooden beams supporting the structure. To a normal passerby, it may look derelict, but Guanheng knew the building was impeccably maintained to preserve its history, every inch of it painstakingly taken care of. As Guanheng approached the front door, he took a few moments to admire it— even though a building like this was out of place in a modern city, it still deserved to be appreciated.

It took a few seconds after Guanheng knocked, but eventually, the heavy wooden door creaked open, Dejun's face appearing in the opening. His eyebrows were knit at first, clearly not having expected anyone to knock on his door, but when he saw Guanheng on the other side, his expression changed. "Oh," he said, his expression shifting from surprised, to pained, to schooled impassivity in a matter of seconds. Guanheng hated it. "It's you."

"Yeah," Guanheng answered, then hesitated, suddenly second-guessing himself. Dejun didn't make any moves to open the door further than a crack, so he cleared his throat, shuffling his feet awkwardly. "Can I come in?"

Dejun seemed to consider it for a few moments, his eyes narrowing, before he let out a sigh and nodded. He heaved open the door, the weight of it causing the hinges to squeak and rumble. "Sure," he acquiesced as Guanheng stepped inside. "You came all the way out here, so you might as well come in."

"Thanks," Guanheng said quietly, toeing off his shoes as he looked around. The house hadn't seemed to have changed since Guanheng last visited, although with the way the exterior was, that shouldn't have come as much of a surprise. Just as the exterior of the house as a monument of traditionalism, the interior was like a museum, heirlooms and relics displayed throughout the house. Traditional paintings were hung on the walls, inscriptions of characters Guanheng couldn't even attempt to read telling poems and stories. Historic decorations adorned the shelves affixed to the walls and the tops of tables, harkening back to days long gone. Dejun, a young college student with his dyed blonde hair, seemed to stand out amongst the antiquity of it all, but as he watched his friend walk further into the house, he moved among it with an ease that could only mean that he felt completely at home.

Guanheng trailed after him inside, meandering along as he admired all of the decorative pieces of the house, until he eventually joined Dejun in the kitchen. There, Dejun's cousin stood, reaching up into a cabinet to pull down an antique teapot. He glanced over when Guanheng entered after Dejun, giving him a nod. "Guanheng," he greeted, setting the pot down on the counter so he could greet him politely. "It's been a while."

Guanheng returned the greeting, keeping his expression neutral. "It's good to see you again, Sicheng," he replied, giving a smile when he saw the corners of Sicheng's lips turn up. Dejun lived with his cousin, and though he saw the older man sparingly and spoke to him even more rarely, Dejun always tried his best to endear himself to the other. There was something strangely intimidating about the Sicheng's quietness, everything from his scarce words to the way he seemed to not make a sound as he moved. Guanheng would have thought of him as inhuman were it not for the soft, white numbers 22 floating above his head.

Dejun seemed to notice Guanheng's line of sight as he filled a kettle with water, stepping easily around Sicheng to place it on the stove. "It was Sicheng-ge's birthday recently," he remarked casually as he lit the burner, though the glance he sent at Guanheng told him that he'd noticed.

Guanheng just let out a small noise of acknowledgement, smiling at Sicheng again, who inclined his head. "Happy belated birthday," he said brightly, and Sicheng smiled at him.

"Thank you, Guanheng," he replied, and Guanheng grinned. Sicheng looked between the two of them impassively, then slid the teapot closer to Dejun, moving out of his way. "I assume you two have something to do, so I'll make myself scarce," he explained, stepping past Guanheng to exit the kitchen. "Don't be afraid to come around more often, though, Guanheng. It's always good to have visitors like you." He gave Guanheng another smile as he passed, and then he was gone, disappearing into another part of the house in silence.

Guanheng waited a few moments until he was sure that Sicheng was far enough to not hear them anymore, then let out a breath, his shoulders sagging. "Why is your cousin so intimidating?" he asked Dejun, moving to lean against the counter.

"He's really not that bad," Dejun answered without looking at him, fiddling with the old gas burner. The flames heating the kettle flickered, licking up the sides of the well-worn metal as they surged for a moment. "He's just quiet. He doesn't talk to people other than me that often."

Guanheng hummed, watching as Dejun moved to grab two teacups for the two of them, along with a little paper sachet. He opened it and the smell of tea leaves wafted out as he poured a small amount into the teapot Sicheng had left on the counter. "You didn't have to make tea," Guanheng protested uselessly, as Dejun continued moving about the kitchen, only a small murmur of "it's tradition" to let Guanheng know that Dejun heard him at all. "You never told me why you live with your cousin, anyways," he added, and that made Dejun pause, if only for a moment before he was back in motion again.

"No, I didn't," he confirmed, turning off the burner with a click. He lifted the kettle off the stove carefully, pouring the hot water into the teapot that was now carefully arranged on a tray alongside the cups. "But that's not what you came here to talk about."

Guanheng resisted the urge to sigh— trust Dejun to avoid one situation for another, always cutting to the quick of things when Guanheng didn't want to. "You're right," he admitted, watching as Dejun picked up the tray carefully, then following him as he moved to a sitting area. The low table was polished so well that it reflected the rest of the room until Dejun set the tray over it. "I wanted to talk to you about what happened with Ten."

Guanheng knew Dejun was trying to keep his face neutral, but he'd known the other man long enough to recognize the quick flash of irritation that passed over his face at Guanheng's words. "Then talk to me," he said, sitting down properly on the floor. It was such a contrast from how Guanheng had seen him less than a week ago, lounging on the carpeted floor of his dorm with a beer in his hand and fried chicken in his mouth. Now, the Dejun pouring tea expertly into the two cups seemed like a different person, cool and distant as he passed a cup to Guanheng.

Guanheng accepted it politely, waiting until Dejun had picked up his own before he spoke. "I wanted to apologize," he began carefully, watching Dejun's reaction. His friend's face was schooled into something impassive, looking beyond Guanheng's shoulder. "I shouldn't have said what I said the other day. I was wrong not to trust you, and I'm sorry."

Dejun took a slow sip of his tea before he answered, his cup placed onto the table soundlessly. "I'm sorry too," he replied, and Guanheng looked at him in mild shock. It wasn't like Dejun to apologize so directly and easily. "I shouldn't have gotten so upset with you, and I shouldn't have stormed off, either."

Guanheng swallowed, blinking slowly at Dejun. At his lack of response, Dejun looked at him, and then the image was broken as he let out an exasperated huff. "What," he said, and okay , that was the Dejun that Guanheng knew. "Am I not allowed to be all mature and polite and apologize to you as well?"

Guanheng was startled into laughing, the jarring shift in atmosphere making him feel more at ease despite its abruptness. "No," he chuckled, "no, you're definitely allowed to. I'm just surprised that you apologized at all."

Dejun sniffed at that, looking away as he picked up his teacup again. "I'm allowed to be the bigger person sometimes," he said defensively, and Guanheng snickered. "I'm twenty now. I'm trying to act like an adult."

"Sure," Guanheng drawled, then laughed again at Dejun's affronted look. He set down his cup of tea, decidedly less graceful than Dejun, though he managed not to spill anything over the edge of the cup. "Seriously, though," he replied, and Dejun sobered up, looking at him intently. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have kept things from you. You're my best friend, and it's not fair to you."

Dejun sighed, his shoulders dropping as he looked away towards the window. "I'm just trying to look out for you," he explained quietly, voice softer than Guanheng had ever heard it. "I don't want anything bad to happen to you. I want you to trust me."

"I know," Guanheng answered, mouth curling into a soft smile. For all of the brash and careless acting that Dejun put on, his heart really was in the right place. "I do trust you. But I want you to trust me, too, to look after myself and make my own decisions."

Guanheng saw Dejun's throat work as he swallowed around nothing, his gaze still trained out the window. "Guanheng," he said, voice low, and Guanheng sat up straighter at the note of seriousness in his voice. "You don't know what this man is. You don't know what his plans are." Dejun was looking out the window, but there was something hard in his gaze, a pain that Guanheng couldn't work out. "I don't want you to get hurt."

Guanheng licked his lips, trying to choose his words carefully. "Neither you or I know," he began slowly, watching as Dejun's jaw clenched for a moment, then relaxed. "But I'll be careful. I want you to trust that I'll do my best not to get hurt. Okay? I promise, Dejun, if shit gets weird, I'll be gone in an instant. But until then..." He trailed off, trying to figure out what else to say. Before he could put more words together, though, Dejun sighed, looking down at the table.

"Okay," he said, sounding a bit defeated, and Guanheng's heart fell. When Dejun looked up, though, the hardness in his eyes was gone, his friend seeming to be back to normal. "It's your life, after all. I can't control you. I'll trust you, but don't come running to me if you get hurt."

Guanheng's lips curved into a smile. There his friend was. "I won't," he promised, taking a sip of his tea. "I'll bitch to Xuxi instead."

Dejun snorted, his shoulders shaking with laughter as he tried to take a sip of his tea. "Good luck with that," he muttered, then Guanheng laughed, and all was well.

to: ten ✨✨

hey

just wanted to let you know i talked with dejun

everything's good now lol

from: ten ✨✨

glad 2 hear it!!!

dinner tonite??? my treat

to: ten ✨✨

yes please

from: ten ✨✨

<3 <3

As the weeks passed, winter creeping its cold reaches in along the edges of the windows and through the cracks in the walls, the number above Ten's head bothered Guanheng less and less. The more time he spent with Ten, the less it mattered, and the more he was convinced that there must be a mistake with his power. Ten was nice, normal— just a funny and charming claimed-23 year old. He was quick-witted and silver tongued, but he softened gradually around Guanheng in a way that was interesting to watch. Heated kisses grew softer, more adoring, gentle in the late hours where Guanheng and Ten would squeeze into Guanheng's single bed together after a long night of studying and assignments. The way Ten would curl into him, cold feet pressed against Guanheng's calves, his body angled to fit Guanheng's perfectly. The little acts of affection, like bringing Guanheng coffee when Ten knew he was studying, or a soft kiss dropped on the nape of his neck as they dressed in the morning. Ten worked his way into Guanheng's life in a way so seamless that, after only a month, Guanheng couldn't remember a life without him there.

Things with Dejun repaired themselves swiftly, as well, the two of them falling into new yet comfortable routines with this new addition in Guanheng's life. Dejun stopped growing irritated at the mention of Ten, but Guanheng took care not to talk about Ten in depth, for Dejun's sake. It bothered him slightly, feeling like he had to hold part of his life back from his closest friend, but Guanheng understood. If it could make Dejun feel a little bit better about it all, then it was worth it to him.

And the number above Ten's head didn't bother him— until it did. As much as Guanheng wanted to push it out of his mind, the visual reminder was impossible to escape, constantly in his vision every moment that he spent with Ten. Every story Ten told about his friends in Thailand or his family was threaded with doubt. Every little anecdote about his life was something to be examined for holes or inconsistencies. No matter how hard he tried to believe the words coming from Ten's mouth, no matter how consistent or convincing it was, the thoughts always lingered in the back of Guanheng's mind; how much of this is true? How much of this is a life you've constructed for yourself? How many things are you keeping from me?

It was another late night between them when the dam broke. Finals were rearing their ugly head, around the corner in just a few weeks' time, and Guanheng and Ten were awake much too late in one of the dorm common rooms to study. All the other students meandering about had returned to their rooms long ago, and now, as the clock ticked past three in the morning, the question bubbled out of Guanheng before he could hold it back.

"Ten," he found himself saying. His eyes were trained on the textbook in front of him, yet he didn't see the words on the page. "How old are you?"

He felt rather than saw Ten's gaze on him from across the table, but Guanheng didn't look up. "Twenty-three," Ten replied easily— the same answer he had given Guanheng every other time. Practiced. Convincing. "Did you forget?"

Guanheng shook his head no slowly, pulling his gaze away from the textbook to look at Ten. He was looking at Guanheng with furrowed brows, confusion and concern painted across his face. The numbers 2157 floated above his head, a mockery. Guanheng took a deep breath, letting it out in a long, shaky exhale. "Are you sure?" he asked, his voice practically a whimper.

Ten's eyes narrowed, and his head tipped to the side as he studied Guanheng. "What do you mean, am I sure ?" he asked, almost carefully casual. "Of course I'm sure. I was born in 1996, so I'm twenty-three."

Guanheng shook his head again, a light bob back and forth. "I mean that I think you're older than that," he explained quietly.

Something passed over Ten's face at that, too quick for Guanheng to decipher, but undeniably there. Something like fear gripped at Guanheng's chest, but Ten was sitting back in his chair, the confusion on his face again. "How old do you think I am, then?" he asked, and Guanheng heard it for what it really was; a test. "Twenty-four? Twenty-six."

Guanheng continued to shake his head for a few moments, then stopped. He looked at the numbers floating above Ten's head one more time. "According to what I've seen," he said slowly, "you're two thousand, one hundred and fifty seven years old."

Guanheng watched as Ten's eyes widened, something in his expression changing. Then, Ten was laughing, disbelief lacing the noise. "That's ridiculous, Guanheng," he replied, firm. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"I can see people's ages," Guanheng explained plainly, and Ten froze. "Little white numbers, hovering above their heads. I don't know how it started, or why, but it's been like that my whole life." He pointed at the number above Ten's head, and watched as Ten tried to follow the gaze of his finger, as if he would be able to see the number as well, pasted into the air. "Yours says 2157 ."

Ten continued to look above him for a few moments, before he looked back at Guanheng, his eyes wide again. "Are you okay?" he asked, sounding so genuinely concerned that Guanheng almost second guessed himself. He stood up, though, moving closer to Guanheng, and Guanheng pushed his chair back hastily out of fear. Ten threw his hands up, though, pausing in his movement. "Guanheng," Ten said, low and measured. "What's going on?"

"How much of it is true?" Guanheng found himself asking. He stood, uncomfortable with Ten having the higher ground, though he kept a distance between them. "Your family. Your friends in Thailand. Your sister. Ten, how much of it is true?"

Ten shook his head, watching Guanheng like one might watch an animal about to attack. "Guanheng, I don't know what you're going on about," he pressed. "What numbers? What are you even talking about?"

Guanheng felt anger lick at his insides, hot and acidic. "Don't avoid the question," he snapped, surprising himself with the force of it. Ten, too, flinched back at Guanheng's voice, a trace of fear marring his features. "Ten, answer me. How much of it is true?"

Ten shook his head, eyebrows furrowed. "Do you think I would lie to you?" he asked instead. "About that much? About everything? Guanheng, that's—"

"Answer me!" Guanheng shouted, taking a step towards Ten. Surprisingly, Ten didn't back down— he just looked at Guanheng, his expression slowly turning stony. "Answer me, Ten, tell me—"

"Guanheng—"

" What are you? "

The words hung heavy in the air between them, coating the room like mist. Slowly, Ten's hands lowered, his shoulders sagging. He looked at Guanheng, really looked at him, and his eyes were dark and tired.

"I was your boyfriend," Ten said eventually, the words falling from his lips heavily. "Was."

Guanheng didn't move as Ten grabbed his things off the table, textbook and laptop hastily stuffed into a bag. His feet were stuck to the floor as Ten walked out of the common room, one last look over his shoulder before the door shut behind him.

Guanheng didn't remember going back to his room that night. Logically, he knew he must have— he woke up in his bed, his bag hung on the back of his chair, laptop on his desk. He must have gathered his things, made his way through the building back to his and Xuxi's room, let himself inside and gone to bed. But the last thing that Guanheng could remember was the look Ten had given him as he walked out, the door to the common room closing with a click.

His phone was dead. That was one thing he must have forgotten to do— plug in his phone before crawling under the blankets to sleep. Guanheng plugged it in with a sigh, dread filling him as he did so. Had Ten messaged him? Had he tried to call? Guanheng had slept through his class that morning almost certainly, if the light coming through the window was anything to go by; the hours must have been creeping towards the afternoon by now. Surely someone must have messaged him.

An empty notification screen greeted him when he turned his phone on. Guanheng couldn't tell if he was relieved or not.

He heard someone clear their throat from across the room and looked up with a start. Xuxi was sitting on his bed, watching Guanheng carefully, his hands wringing together. "Hey," he said at a volume so soft that, had he not seen it coming from Xuxi's mouth directly, he wouldn't have believed it was him saying it. "You're up."

Guanheng sat up slowly, rubbing at his eyes. They felt particularly sore this morning, and Guanheng had to blink several times to try to get rid of the feeling. "I'm up," he echoed, stretching his shoulders. His head was pounding. "What time is it?"

"Quarter to noon," Xuxi answered, and Guanheng let out a small noise. "I know you had class this morning, but... After last night, I really didn't wanna wake you."

Guanheng's brows furrowed, and he looked at Xuxi again. His whole body seemed to radiate anxiety, his broad frame seeming to fold in upon itself. "What do you mean?" he asked quietly, watching as Xuxi looked down for a moment before looking at him again.

"Well," Xuxi began, brows furrowed as he recalled what happened. "You came in at like... Three thirty, or something. I was still up, but you didn't say anything to me. Just put your stuff down, changed, got into bed. I thought that maybe you were exhausted, or sick, or something, but..." Guanheng watched as Xuxi swallowed, looking down again. "Then you started crying."

Crying . Guanheng reached up to touch his face again. Sure enough, the skin of his cheeks was dry and sticky, the salt of the tear tracks coursing lines down his face. Xuxi looked up at him again, pitying, and Guanheng wanted to disappear. "I was crying?" he breathed.

Xuxi nodded. His long fingers wrung themself together, pulled apart, joined together again. "Not very loud, and not for long, but enough that I noticed it," he explained. He cleared his throat, clearly hesitating, not sure if he should ask. Eventually, he slid his laptop off of his lap and moved to sit at the edge of his bed, leaning in a bit across the gap between their beds as he asked, "Are you okay?"

Guanheng let out a breath, the sound shuddering out of him. "No," he managed, the sound choked, caught in his throat. His hands tangled in the sheets of his bed, knuckles white, as if he could hold things together that way. "No, I guess I'm not."

Xuxi let out a small noise of distress. He climbed off of his bed and grabbed the chair from his desk, pulling it close to the edge of Guanheng's bed. He stretched his long body forward when he sat down, resting his arms on the mattress and pillowing his head on top. He looked at Guanheng with a frown, large, puppy-like eyes watching him with concern. "Wanna talk about it?" he asked gently, and Guanheng sighed.

He recounted the details of the night before slowly, unpacking the memory and all of the fresh hurt that sat alongside it. Part of Guanheng felt guilty for how it went down— even though Ten would have had to find out about his ability eventually, and they would have had to have the necessary conversation about the number above Ten's head, part of Guanheng felt that he was wholly at fault, that he'd broken his own heart.

"But he never answered my question," Guanheng explained to Xuxi, who was listening with furrowed eyebrows, trying to make sense of it all. "He just deflected it, every time. If I was wrong, and he had nothing to hide, he should have just answered it, right? But he didn't, so..." He let out a long sigh, pushing his hands through his hair. "I don't know. I still don't know what's the truth and what's not."

Xuxi nodded slowly, lips pushed out in thought. After a few seconds, though, he leaned back with a groan, hanging his head back. "Man, I don't know what this guy's deal is," he said so despairingly that Guanheng couldn't help but crack a little smile. Xuxi picked his head up after a second, shaking himself out as if to shake the worry off his body. "Have you talked to Dejun about it yet?" he added. "He'll probably know what to do."

Guanheng winced, just the thought of telling Dejun making shame roil in his gut. "No, I haven't," he admitted, Dejun's warning echoing in his head— don't come running to me if you get hurt . "I don't think he'd really be thrilled to help me with this, if I'm being honest."

Xuxi let out a noise of understanding, clearly remembering when the three of them had talked about Ten. "Ah, yeah, he kinda told you not to see this guy, huh," he mused, and Guanheng hung his head. Xuxi crossed his arms as he sat back in the chair, kicking a leg up onto Guanheng's bed. "But, still," he continued, "Dejun's your friend. He'd probably want to know."

Guanheng shook his head, tugging at his hair. "He'd get so mad at me," he argued weakly. "He told me that if I get hurt—"

"Guanheng," Xuxi cut him off, and Guanheng looked up to find Xuxi looking at him with an expression that was half unimpressed and half amused. "Dejun talks a lot of shit, but that guy couldn't hurt a fly. Do you really think he'd actually get mad at you?"

Guanheng blinked at Xuxi for a moment, surprised. He'd never really asked Xuxi for advice before, partially because he doubted the other was capable of actually giving anything decent, but it seemed like he might have been wrong this whole time. "Uh—"

"He's your best friend, dude," Xuxi ploughed on, his voice clearly sincere despite his casual posture. "He cares about you, even though he acts like he doesn't. And like, yeah, I know you," Xuxi paused to sigh, dropping his leg off the bed and uncrossing his arms, "but I'm not Dejun. He knows you best, not me. So you should talk to him."

Xuxi was looking at him with such openness that, for a few minutes, Guanheng didn't know what to say. Eventually, a surprised laugh bubbled out of him, and a smile cracked on Xuxi's face. "Is that your way of saying you have no idea what to do?" Guanheng asked amusedly, and Xuxi's smile grew into a grin.

"Yup," he admitted shamelessly, and Guanheng laughed again, shaking his head. "Honestly, though, you should actually talk to him. He should probably know what's up with you and your monster boyfriend."

Guanheng opened his mouth to correct Xuxi, to protest that Ten wasn't actually a monster, then realized that the part he should be correcting was that Ten was no longer his boyfriend. He shut his mouth, taking a second to swallow the hurt that bubbled up at that realization before he grabbed his phone. "Yeah," Guanheng assured, already opening up his messages. "I'll text him now."

"Good," Xuxi said firmly as he stood. He reached over and clapped a large hand on Guanheng's shoulder heavily, causing Guanheng to flinch. "And take a shower," he added bluntly. "You kinda reek, man."

Guanheng laughed at the straightforward comment. Trust Xuxi not to mince words. "Ouch, okay," he chuckled, sending the message out to Dejun before crawling out of bed to shower.

to: dj xiao

hey are you busy? i need to talk to you about smth

Guanheng had to admit, he felt a lot better after taking a shower. Even though the dorm's communal showers weren't exactly the most luxurious experience, and Guanheng had to take extra care not to touch any of the walls, there was something undeniably soothing about washing off all of the physical evidence of his distress and watching it swirl down the drain. Xuxi's celebratory clap when Guanheng reentered their room didn't hurt, either.

He moved over to his bed, one hand towelling his hair while he picked up the phone with the other. No messages.

"Huh," Guanheng muttered, typing out another message. Dejun was usually a notoriously fast texter— he hated having messages sitting around and always loved having the last word, which meant that unless Dejun was asleep, his friend usually answered within a couple of minutes. Considering the time, Guanheng really doubted that Dejun was still in bed.

to: dj xiao

hey are you busy? i need to talk to you about smth

??? hello

Guanheng dropped his phone back on his bed after he sent the message, pulling the towel off of his head. That would surely get a response. He left his phone to finish getting ready for the day; he pulled on some fresh clothes, blow dried his hair, grabbed a granola bar. When Guanheng picked up his phone again, he frowned.

No messages.

"Everything good?" Xuxi called across the room, seemingly noticing Guanheng's troubled expression. "What's the matter?"

"Dejun didn't answer," Guanheng muttered in response, typing out another text. "He's usually pretty fast about it..."

to: dj xiao

hey are you busy? i need to talk to you about smth

??? hello

where tf are you???

Guanheng fiddled with his phone after he sent the message, scrolling through his social media channels. Dejun didn't really have much of a social media presence— just an Instagram he posted on every once in a while— but that was quiet as well. "Maybe he's busy?" Xuxi suggested with a shrug.

Guanheng shook his head. "Even when he's busy, he usually answers, even if it's just to tell me to fuck off and that he'll talk to me later," he explained. "And today's Wednesday, he doesn't have anything except—"

Guanheng felt his heart stop. Except his anthropology lecture. The one class he and Dejun had together. If Guanheng hadn't shown up and Dejun did, his best friend certainly would have sent him a barrage of texts demanding an explanation of where he was, littered with simultaneous messages of concern and threats to his well-being if he didn't answer.

A slow, sinking feeling of fear settled into Guanheng's chest, like a stone in water.

"I gotta go," Guanheng said, yanking the charger out of his phone. He was already dialing the number for a taxi as he grabbed his wallet off his desk, stamping his feet into his shoes without bothering to put on socks. "Something must have happened. I gotta go."

Xuxi's call of "be safe" was the last thing he heard as he ran out the door.

The front door to Dejun's house was open when Guanheng arrived.

That was the first sign that something was wrong. The second was that Dejun's usual pair of sneakers were still arranged neatly in the entryway when Guanheng opened the door. The third was the series of loud, irregular thumps that came from somewhere in the house, followed by quick footsteps, fading until Guanheng couldn't hear them anymore.

"Dejun!" Guanheng called into the house as he moved inside, not bothering to take off his shoes. If everything was okay and this was just a big misunderstanding, Dejun was going to kill him for it, but right now Guanheng's focus wasn't on being the best houseguest. "Dejun, where are you?"

Guanheng hadn't spent much time in Dejun's house before, and what he had seen was quite limited. But when he passed through the kitchen, he was certain that there hadn't been a doorway leading to a descending set of stairs there before, on the opposite side of the kitchen from where him and Dejun had sat and drank tea just a few weeks ago.

The hairs on the back of his neck stood up as he approached the door slowly, taking care to keep his footsteps quiet. As he got closer, he could see that the doorway wasn't really much of a doorway at all— rather, Guanheng could see that one of the wall panels had been moved, the tapestry that had been draped over it pushed off and onto the floor. The stairs were made of a similar old wood like the rest of the house, but unlike what Guanheng had seen so far, the steps were dirty, covered in dust and rot and warped from misuse. There wasn't any light hanging above the stairs, but Guanheng could see a faint orange flow from somewhere in the basement, flickering like a flame.

Guanheng looked to the bottom of the stairs and saw a shock of dyed blonde hair resting on the landing.

"Dejun!" Guanheng shouted, the sound feeling like it had been punched out of him. He stumbled down the stairs in a panic, dropping to his knees once he hit the bottom. There, his best friend lay, eyes shut and blood dripping from a long gash along his hairline. Thankfully, his chest still rose and fell with breath, and when Guanheng's hand pressed against his neck, he could feel Dejun's heartbeat, steady. Guanheng pulled his friend towards him and into his arms, Dejun's head lolling against his shoulder and his side pressed against Guanheng's chest.

Guanheng's hand touched something warm and wet along Dejun's shoulder, and when he pulled his hand away to find his fingers sticky with blood. When he looked at where his hand had been, he found five, long cuts along Guanheng's skin, like something had dug their claws into him and pulled.

"Guanheng?"

It was as if someone had taken a piece of ice and pressed it against the back of Guanheng's neck, through his skin and into his spine.

Backlit by the flickering light of the basement, Ten looked inhuman. Not much had changed about him, appearance wise— he was still in the clothes Guanheng had seen him in the night before, looking for the most part like a normal young man. But the claws that extended from his left hand, dark and dripping with blood, let Guanheng know that something was very, very wrong.

The numbers 2157 floated above Ten's head, white and glowing like a shattered halo.

Guanheng's back hit the wall before he had even processed that he moved. His hands gripped Dejun's limp body tight enough to bruise, clutching his friend's injured form to his chest. "No," he choked out, fear gripping him. He couldn't breathe, the weight of Ten's eyes looking down on him like boulders on top of his chest. "No no no, Ten.."

"What are you doing here?" Ten asked, his head tilting to the side. His voice was confused, yet his face was calm, like someone had taken his expressions and put them on mute. He took a step towards Guanheng, and Guanheng's feet scrambled against the floor as he pressed himself further against the wall. "You have class right now, don't you?"

"What am I doing here?" Guanheng asked, hysterical. He felt himself shaking from head to toe. Another drop of blood fell from Ten's claw, splattering on the stone floor. "Ten, what— what are you doing here, what happened—"

Ten clicked his tongue, taking another couple of steps towards Guanheng. Guanheng wheezed as he tried to push back even farther, sliding sideways along the wall until his ribs jabbed into the stairs. "Hey, calm down," Ten told him, and Guanheng almost wanted to laugh at how patronizing it sounded considering the situation. Ten slowly crouched down in front of him, and his eyes gleamed as he looked at Guanheng. "What are you so scared of?"

Guanheng's chest heaved, trying to take in a breath, and he glanced down at Dejun, still held tightly in his arms. When he looked back at Ten, the man— monster— was watching him carefully, like how a predator might watch trapped prey. "You," Guanheng choked out. He adjusted his grip on Dejun, his hands shaking. "You— what did you do to him, Ten?"

Ten looked at Dejun curiously, as if he'd forgotten that the man in Guanheng's arms even existed. "Oh, Dejun?" he said, the words seeming to drip off his tongue. He reached forward, and Guanheng held his breath, but all that Ten did was move Dejun's bangs back to expose his face. "He's been causing me problems for a while now. I didn't want to hurt him, but I needed him out of my way."

Out of my way. The words rang in Guanheng's head like a gong. He glanced down at Dejun again, at the cuts on his shoulder. He watched Dejun's eyelids flutter. "Out of your way," Guanheng echoed, voice shaking. "You.."

Dejun's eyes suddenly opened, and then his friend was flying out of Guanheng's arms, launching himself at Ten. His hand slammed into the middle of Ten's chest with a power Guanheng didn't know Dejun possessed, sending the other flying backwards, skidding along the stone across the basement. Guanheng watched in horror as Ten let out a scream, the fabric of his shirt burning away and the skin of his chest turning bright red.

"Get back," Dejun warned, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. A small strip of paper fell from the hand that hit Ten, covered in messily scrawled characters that looked like they were written in blood. "He's a demon."

Guanheng looked at Dejun with wide eyes, his chest caught somewhere between his chest and his throat. When it moved again, it came out as a wheeze. Guanheng felt winded, like he'd fallen and landed on his back and the wind had been knocked right out of him. "What..." he barely managed, his eyes moving between where Ten was writhing on the ground and where Xiaojun was slowly standing a short distance from him. "He's... A— a demon?"

Dejun let out a sigh as he got to his feet, taking a staggering step back before he caught his balance. He touched the cut on his head lightly, pulling his fingers away with a wince. "I knew from the first time you told me about him," he admitted, wiping the blood on his fingers off on his pants. "I didn't know him specifically, not at the time, but with an age like that, there's only really one thing he could have been." He looked over his shoulder at Guanheng, and even though Guanheng knew that it was his friend standing in front of him, he felt as if he couldn't recognize that person at all. "Then I talked to Sicheng-ge, and he told me everything. Then it all made sense."

"Sicheng?" Guanheng asked shakily. Across the room, Ten was still shaking on the floor, heavy pants shaking his mouth. Even from a distance, Guanheng could see the fangs that were now sprouting from his mouth, the spindly, clawed hands that grabbed at the floor. He looked back at Dejun, unable to stomach the sight. "What does Sicheng have to do with any of this?"

Something dark passed over Dejun's face, and he looked back at Ten. Guanheng could see the tight set of his jaw. "You asked, the last time you were here, why I lived with Sicheng," Dejun recalled, his voice pitched low. His gaze flickered to the ground as he paused. Guanheng felt like the silence stretched on for hours. "It's because a demon possessed my father and killed both of my parents."

Guanheng felt his stomach drop. In his time knowing Dejun, Guanheng slowly realized he'd never heard the other mention his parents once. His friend always just brushed off the subject, finding a way to change the topic of conversation. Guanheng had simply thought that Dejun didn't want to talk about it, or that they weren't close. Never in a million years would he have thought this. "Dejun," he breathed. He wanted to reach out for his friend, but he was too scared to move. "I'm so sorry..."

"I moved into this house with Sicheng and his parents after they died," Dejun continued on. The only indication that he had heard Guanheng was the way his eyes flicked towards him for a moment, the tendons in his neck jumping out as they clenched. "I was seven at the time. I didn't know until I moved in, but Sicheng and his parents were demon hunters. The oldest child of each generation was supposed to learn from the last, and those happened to be Sicheng and his father."

Dejun swallowed, the dim light of the lamp causing shadows to jump across his skin. "Then his parents were killed as well, when I was ten," he finished grimly, "so Sicheng-ge taught me."

Guanheng let out a heavy breath, slowly picking himself up off the floor using shaky legs. He wanted to run to his best friend, grab onto him, protect him from any other hardships for the rest of his life. "Oh, Dejun," he murmured, feeling like he could cry. His shoulders quaked with the effort of holding back a sob. "Dejun..."

Sudden, raucous laughter erupted across the basement, and Guanheng startled violently, almost falling back to the ground with the shock. On the floor in the middle of the basement, Ten was laughing, a horrible cackling noise that rattled Guanheng to the core. "Oh, Sicheng, Sicheng," he was saying, his lips curled in a sneer. Guanheng shuddered at the long fangs that poked past his lips. "I knew he was the one behind all of this."

Dejun scoffed, but his posture was tense, ready to move if Ten were to try anything. "He's been trying to find you for years," he confirmed bitterly, as if even speaking to Ten made him feel sick. "And now, look at you. So? Are you ready to admit to what you did?"

Ten let out another laugh, turning his head to look at Dejun. Guanheng shivered when he realized that Ten's pupils were blown wide, his irises hardly visible anymore. "I had nothing to do with it," he spat, vicious and angry. "I've said it once, I'll say it again. I'm sorry for your parents, Dejun, and I'm sorry for Sicheng's, but I had nothing to do with either of them."

"You're a liar," Dejun accused angrily. He took a step towards Ten, then seemed to think better of getting too close, choosing to loom over him menacingly. "Sicheng saw you that night. We know it was you. Admit it."

Ten shook his head, still sneering as he looked up at Dejun. "You'll believe anything your precious cousin tells you, won't you, Dejun," he mocked, and Guanheng watched as Dejun's shoulders rose in anger. "Your wonderful cousin, the one who raised you, taught you everything you know. He's not the saint you think he is."

"I'll believe him before I believe you," Dejun argued. He tipped his head as he looked at Ten, his features marred by a scowl. "Here's something you can admit to, then," he spat. Guanheng's eyes widened as Dejun turned to look at him quickly, before his best friend faced Ten again. "You were trying to get to us," Dejun said, and Guanheng wanted to cover his ears, to scream, anything to block out what he thought was coming, "through Guanheng, weren't you?"

No . Guanheng's mind was screaming at Ten as he watched the demon on the floor. Say no. Tell him he's wrong. Tell him this wasn't all for nothing. But when Ten's eyes turned to look in his direction, he knew what the answer was before Ten even opened his mouth to speak.

"It was the easiest way," Ten explained, and Guanheng felt his knees grow weak. He leaned against the wall to stop himself from falling. "I needed to be close enough to see you two, but I couldn't get too close. I needed the information, though, so I thought..." He looked at Guanheng as he trailed off for a few moments, before he took in a shaky breath. "I thought it was the best way," he finished, and Guanheng thought he was going to be sick.

"So you used me," Guanheng said weakly. His hands clutched uselessly at the wall. Too many words were circling in his mind, but one phrase shouted above it all— he used you. "You used me to get to Dejun. To... To attack my best friend."

"That's not it," Ten protested adamantly. Guanheng could hardly look at him, the fangs and claws tainting his already rapidly deteriorating image of Ten. He loved this man, he trusted him, and look where it had gotten him. "Guanheng, I cared for you. At first, yeah, I was just looking for information, but..." Ten's voice grew soft, and Guanheng managed a glance. Ten actually looked... Remorseful, his eyebrows knitted together, shoulders tense. He looked guilty. "But then I realized how much I liked spending time with you, genuinely. And I fell for you. That's why I couldn't tell you."

Guanheng shook his head, feeling like he was going to fall apart from all the thoughts in his head. "But you still used me," he repeated, trying not to crumble under Ten's words. "You used me, Ten, and whatever— whatever feelings you had for me later, it's not an excuse."

Guanheng watched in horror as Ten's fingers curled, claws growing longer from his fingers and digging into the basement floor. The sound of nails scraping against the stone was enough to make Guanheng flinch. "Well, what would you do," Ten began, and his voice was lower, dark and dangerous, "if someone kidnapped your friend?"

Guanheng felt like someone had poured ice-cold water over him. With his breath caught in his chest, he turned to look at Dejun, who was watching Ten with a murderous glare. "Kidnapped?" he managed, so quiet that he wasn't sure if he'd even made a sound at all. "Dejun... What did you do?"

Dejun's glare grew more angry, and every muscle in his body was tense, ready to make a move should Ten try anything. "Don't try to make me the bad guy," he spat, venomous. "I'm not the demon here."

Ten laughed at that, but it wasn't the bright, mischievous laughter Guanheng was used to— it was cold, bitter and vicious, prickling along the back of Guanheng's neck. "You're so convinced demons are evil," he growled, picking himself up off the floor. Despite being the shortest out of them, Ten seemed to tower above him and Dejun, and Guanheng found himself moving back out of fear. "But who's the one who kidnapped an innocent just to get to me?"

"Who did you kidnap?" Guanheng said breathlessly, turning to look at Dejun again. His friend was avoiding his gaze, eyes flitting between Ten and the floor, and Guanheng felt his heart drop. He moved forward and reached out, hands clutching Dejun's shoulders, and finally, finally Dejun looked at him, eyes wide with fear. "Dejun," Guanheng pleaded, voice shaking. It was too much— everything was too much. "What did you do ?"

Dejun looked at him for a few moments, watching with wide eyes, before the fight seemed to leave him. He reached up slowly, taking hold of one of Guanheng's wrists, and Guanheng watched as Dejun gently removed Guanheng's hand from his shoulder. "Guanheng," he said quietly, shrugging Guanheng's other hand off. Guanheng let it fall, too horrified to struggle. "You should have listened to me and stayed out of this."

Guanheng watched as Dejun turned towards on shaky legs. From his angle behind Dejun, Guanheng could now see a holster attached to Dejun's belt— there was a silver gun fastened inside, immaculately polished. His mind and heart raced.

"If you won't tell him," Ten said threateningly, and when Guanheng looked at him, the other man— demon — was walking backwards slowly, towards a door on the far wall. Guanheng hadn't noticed it before, too preoccupied with all that was going on; now, though, the inscriptions carved onto the stone surface and the thick, metal chains and locks holding it stuck out like a sore thumb. "I'll just open this, then, let him find out for himself. Let him see what kind of person you really are, huh, Dejun?"

Dejun didn't say anything in response for a few moments. It made fear balloon in Guanheng's chest, and he looked over just in time to see Dejun's hand land on the gun.

His body moved without him realizing it. One second, he was behind Dejun near the stairs— the next second, he was standing between Dejun and Ten in the middle of the room, his arms spread out wide.

"Stop," he choked out, chest heaving— he couldn't have moved more than ten steps, but it felt like he'd run a mile. His heart was pounding so loudly that Guanheng would have sworn it had moved into his head. Across from him, Dejun's gun was trained in his direction, but his friend's eyes were wide with horror. "Don't shoot."

"What the hell are you doing?!" Ten's voice came from behind him, but he sounded like he was miles away. "Guanheng, get out of here!"

"No," Guanheng managed shakily. Dejun seemed to be stunned into silence, standing still and silent across from Guanheng, gun still raised. "Ten, open the door."

A hand grabbed his shoulder, claws digging into his skin harshly. "Guanheng, no," Ten commanded, trying to move him from his spot. Guanheng didn't move. "You need to get out of here, now ."

"I'm not moving!" Guanheng finally shouted, and Ten's hand flew off his shoulder as Dejun jumped. Guanheng could feel the nervous sweat gathering at his temples despite the cool air of the basement. "Open the fucking door!"

There was a moment of silence, then Guanheng heard footsteps moving away from him, clearly Ten walking towards the door. Guanheng watched as Dejun's face hardened, his grip on the gun tightening. "Guanheng," he said warningly, pleadingly. "You don't know what you're doing. You don't know what demons like him are capable of."

Guanheng clenched his jaw. Chains rattled from behind him. "And apparently, I don't know what you're capable of either," he returned, heart clenching as Dejun glanced away, avoiding his eyes. "I trusted you. You were my best friend."

"I still am!" Dejun protested, looking at Guanheng again. He adjusted his grip on the gun, his breath shuddering in his chest. "I still am, Guanheng, please, listen to me—"

Dejun cut off as a noise exploded from behind Guanheng, the door flying open with enough force that Guanheng was almost knocked off balance. Bits of stone and metal skittered across the floor, rubble scattering from whatever Ten had done to open the door. Dejun was staring straight past him now, his hands shaking, expression horrified. Holding his breath, Guanheng quickly turned on the spot to look behind him.

There was something on the floor of the room behind the door. Whatever it was may have been human, once. It certainly had features of a human— two arms, two legs, hands, a head and face. But there were other things about this... Creature that made Guanheng doubt that it was ever human at all. The hands were long and clawed, nails black, scraping lines into the floor. There were horns sprouting out of its head, between the creature's reddish-brown hair, curling back along its skull and into points. Its limbs were long and spindly, sprawled into a painful position on the stone, and when it tipped its head up to look at Ten, its eyes and the inside of its mouth were completely black.

The number 1708   floated above its head.

"Ten," the demon said, and Guanheng shuddered at the sound, like pieces of gravel and metal crunching against each other. "Ten, Ten."

"I'm here," Ten said, and Guanheng watched as Ten knelt down next to the creature, placing a hand on its head. It seemed to shudder under the weight of Ten's palm, its head dropping back to the floor. It shifted a bit along the floor, and Guanheng realized with a start that the jangling of metal he was hearing whenever the demon moved was the sound of the shackles attached to its wrists and ankles. "Yangyang, I've got you. I'm here."

Guanheng jolted out of the daze he was in when he heard a foot land on the wooden stairs behind him. He turned slowly, goosebumps rising along his skin, to watch Sicheng calmly walk down the stairs, hands in his pockets.

"Do you see now?" he asked Guanheng. Guanheng had hardly spoken more than a few words to Sicheng in the time that him and Guanheng had known each other, and it made his words now all the more terrifying. "Do you see now, what demons really are?"

Guanheng shook. Across from him, Dejun was still aiming the gun— though he seemed to shrink next to Sicheng, no longer as brave as he looked just moments ago. Behind him, he could hear Ten's voice speaking in soothing tones to the creature— demon— Yangyang , Guanheng reminded himself. The clinking of metal and the small noises of pain Yangyang was making let Guanheng know that Ten was probably trying to undo the shackles. "I don't understand," he murmured, shutting his eyes and dropping his head. Just yesterday, he was a normal college kid— or as normal as a college kid who saw peoples ages as numbers could be. He had a boyfriend, a best friend, a roommate; he studied for his exams, went to classes, worked on assignments in the campus cafe. Now, he was standing between two demons, and two people who wanted them dead. "I don't understand..."

"They aren't from this world— they're evil beings, sent here to bring harm to humans," Sicheng elaborated. There was a loud clang from behind him and a gasp, and Guanheng startled— Ten must have gotten Yangyang free. "They corrupt our souls, make people do terrible things, harm each other or harm us directly." Sicheng's face was serious as he talked, but impassive, not giving any emotion away. Next to him, Dejun was beginning to shake. "We must get rid of them."

The sound of Ten chuckling caused Guanheng to look back, and he watched as Ten stood up behind him. He looked even more dangerous, somehow, grinning and laughing even as the anger poured off him in waves. "I was wondering when you would show up, Sicheng," he said, voice colder than Guanheng had ever heard it before. "Even after all these years, you're still out to get me?"

"I'm hoping this will be the last time," Sicheng replied calmly. He took a step closer to Dejun, putting a hand on his shoulder heavily. "It's not just me against you, now."

Ten snorted, straightening. Guanheng watched in horror as the claws on Ten's hands grew longer, horns slowly starting to emerge through his straight, black hair. "Right, you brought a kid to help you, huh?" he taunted with a grin. His fangs seemed to glisten in the low light of the basement. "You should know better than to think you can get rid of me that easily."

Ten's knees bent, preparing to move as Dejun gripped his gun tighter, and Guanheng was gripped by fear. Just as it seemed as if Ten was about to move out from behind him, Guanheng threw himself towards Ten, grabbing the demon by the shoulders frantically.

"No," he pleaded, as Ten turned to look at him in shock. This close, Guanheng could see the hints of black at the corners of Ten's eyes as he watched Guanheng. "Ten, no, please."

"Guanheng," Sicheng's voice came from behind him. "Move. I won't warn you again."

Guanheng shook his head, breath stuttering with each inhale. "I won't," he said, as adamantly as he could manage, still looking at Ten. The demon seemed to be frozen, even the darkness in his eyes paused in its slow creep. "He's not evil. Don't hurt him."

There was a sobbing breath from behind him, and Guanheng felt his heart clench when he realized it was Dejun. "Guanheng, please!" he begged, voice shuddering and wet. "You can't change anything! Move!"

"I won't," Guanheng repeated, louder this time. He tightened his grip on Ten's shoulders, and the demon's eyes widened slightly. "I won't! Don't hurt him!"

Dejun sobbed louder behind him as Sicheng clicked his tongue. "Dejun," Sicheng commanded, though his voice was laced with disappointment. "Just shoot."

Guanheng held his breath as Dejun sobbed again. "No, I can't," he heard Dejun plead wetly. Ten's hand slowly moved up to hold Guanheng's wrists. "I can't, ge, I can't get a good shot—"

"Take it anyways," Sicheng barked, firmer now. "We can't let this go on any longer. Shoot."

Dejun's sobbing continued, along with tearful pleas, as Ten pulled Guanheng's hands off his shoulders. Guanheng felt tears running down his face before he even realized he was crying, desperately trying to hold on— but Ten was stronger now, the more demonic he became, and Guanheng couldn't hold onto him. "You know," Ten said quietly, his voice changing, darker and rougher with each word. Guanheng shook as he watched Ten's eyes go fully black. "I really did love you."

Behind him, Sicheng shouted. The bang of a gunshot, then a flash of pain in Guanheng's back. Ten's pitch black eyes growing wide, as Guanheng's wrists slipped from his grasp when he hit the ground.

For a few moments, Guanheng didn't know what happened. He could see the ceiling of the basement above him, the sole lamp in the basement flickering in his periphery. The stone was cold underneath him, and his back felt wet. He couldn't hear much, just vague noises that sounded like they were underwater— something clattering, footsteps, shouting. Then Dejun's face appeared in his vision, grabbing Guanheng and hovering over him, and everything was thrown back into focus.

"Oh god," Dejun was sobbing, shaking and heaving with the force of it. His hands were shaking as he tried to prop Guanheng up. "Oh god, Guanheng, oh my god..."

"You—" Guanheng tried to speak, but pain bloomed in his torso as he did so, and his face contorted with it. Dejun's tears were pouring off his face, landing on Guanheng's skin like raindrops. "You.."

"I didn't," Dejun said frantically, shouting. Guanheng could hear other noises around them, scuffling, shouting, crashing— but he couldn't turn to look, Dejun taking up all of his vision and the pain sapping his energy. "I didn't, Guanheng, I— oh god, you need help, hold on..."

Dejun hands scrambled for his pockets, searching for his phone, and with a start he saw that Dejun's hands were covered in blood— my blood , Guanheng thought vaguely. Across the room, there was a crash, and Guanheng shut his eyes as the basement's sole, small window shattered, two forms flying out through it. There was a curse from somewhere else in the basement, then footsteps hammering up the stairs, across the floor above them and out of the house.

When Guanheng managed to open his eyes again, Dejun had his phone pressed to his ear, hands shaking as he tried to hold the device. The ceiling spun and blurred above him, and Guanheng groaned. "Just stay awake, okay, Guanheng?" Dejun said, voice frantic and shaky as Guanheng closed his eyes against the spinning world. "Keep your eyes open, stay awake, please.."

"It's okay," Guanheng said slowly. God, everything hurt. "I'm not going anywhere."

The ringing got further away, then stopped. Dejun's voice came to him through a tunnel.

"Yes, it's an emergency, I need an ambulance.."

Guanheng opened his eyes to a dark room. A small panel of yellow light cut across it from the door, slightly ajar. Noises came from the hallway beyond the door— soft beeping, voices talking, and Guanheng realized he was in a hospital. He wasn't in pain, which was good— it probably had something to do with the complicated IV drip set up next to his bed, the bags of fluid reflecting the soft light from the monitors beside it. Even the movement to turn his head and look at the monitors was exhausting, but Guanheng turned his head to look at the rest of the room. A small wave of fear washed over him when he saw a familiar figure sitting near the window.

"Ten?" he called weakly, and the demon's head turned towards him. He looked— tired, Guanheng realized with a start. He wasn't sure if he had ever seen Ten look tired before. When he made his way towards Guanheng, his movements were slow, careless, nothing like the precise and agile way he was used to.

"Hey," Ten murmured when he was close enough to sit on the edge of the bed. His voice sounded raw, like he'd spent the past day screaming, and Guanheng felt his heart sink. "You're up."

In between the faint light from the hall and the window, the yellow incandescent and the blue moon, Ten looked surreal. His eyes were sunken, his skin sallow, his hair hanging over his forehead limply. The way his shoulders were rounded made him look like this human form of his was caving in on himself, collapsing under the weight of everything that had happened. He reached a hand out for Guanheng's, sliding it under his, palms together— clawless, cold.

"I couldn't leave," he began, turning his eyes to the floor; Guanheng already knew what he was going to say, but he didn't want to hear it. "Without saying goodbye."

Guanheng's chest felt heavy, like his lungs were filled with stones. He couldn't take a breath. "You don't have to," he managed, but he wasn't sure what he was asking for. You don't have to be here. You don't have to say goodbye. You don't have to leave at all.

The corners of Ten's lips quirked up slightly. Without Guanheng even explaining, he seemed to know. Maybe it was some sort of demonic power— reading people's minds, or something. "I know," he said, so softly that it broke Guanheng's heart. His fingers curled around Guanheng's palm. "That's why I won't actually say it."

He shifted, a shadow in the room as he leaned in towards Guanheng, resting his head against Guanheng's shoulder. If Guanheng had the strength, he would have grabbed Ten, tangled his hands into smooth, dark hair, begged him, don't go . But of course, Ten must have known he would do that— that's why he was here now, before Guanheng could manage that.

"I love you," Ten mumbled against his skin. Guanheng realized he was listening to his heartbeat, thumping painfully in his chest. "Let's meet again someday."

When Ten pulled back, he was smiling, and Guanheng didn't know if the glimmer in his eye was the mirth he was so used to or unshed tears. He leaned in once more, the curve of his mouth pressed against the corner of Guanheng's lips; then Guanheng blinked, and he was gone, into the shadows of the open window.

Guanheng's breath shuddered out of his chest. He moved his hand to where Ten's head had rested against his shoulder, warm.

New York was warm this time of year. Guanheng had expected it— it was late May after all, and spring was beginning to bleed into summer, but it was still a nice surprise when he got off the plane. His home in Macao had already been humid when he visited his parents before heading to New York, muggy and sticky with summer air, so the warm breeze when he stepped out of the airport was refreshing and pleasant.

He was surprised to have gotten an offer so quickly after graduation, let alone one abroad. History majors weren't necessarily the most marketable specializations, but Guanheng had gotten lucky— there was a spot waiting for him at NYU in a direct entry PhD program in the fall, with a funding package and a research grant to boot. His undergraduate thesis must have really impressed them, but he couldn't take all the credit for it. His comparative analysis of representations of demons in medieval Europe and Asia **was certainly a collaborative effort.

His friends had seen him off at the airport. Xuxi had cried, naturally, his tall and broad frame draped over Guanheng's like a large, affectionate dog. Through his laments about losing his roommate, Guanheng had just patted him on the back, smiling at Dejun over Xuxi's shoulder.

It had taken a while for that friendship to be repaired. Although Dejun hadn't actually shot him— Sicheng had tried to take the gun from him, and it had fired in the scramble— Guanheng had still been shot, and it would be a lie to say that he didn't resent Dejun throughout the painful and arduous healing and rehab process. But when Dejun had shown up at the door of his and Xuxi's room a few weeks later, saying that Sicheng had disappeared and the house was being taken by the bank and he had nowhere to go, Guanheng opened the door for him without a second thought. It had been cramped with the three of them in there, and tense for a while— but they managed to move into a proper apartment the next semester where all of them could live comfortably. The anonymous money transfers to Dejun's account paid the bills, and they lived there for the next two and a half years until all of them had graduated, a proud and tearful ceremony between the three of them. They were staying in the apartment, even though Guanheng was moving out, and as he had tossed his keys at Dejun, he'd known the two of them would be fine.

"I'm not gonna miss you," Dejun had said at the airport terminal, while Xuxi waited a few steps away, trying to collect himself. "You're annoying and never listen to me. And you're too loud to be a good roommate."

Guanheng had laughed at how hard Dejun was trying to look serious and not like he was on the verge of tears. God, his best friend was such an idiot. "I won't miss you either," he'd told him, then pulled the other in for a hug. Despite his words, Dejun had hugged him tightly, hand curling into Guanheng's shirt over the scar on his back. If there had been tears in their eyes when Guanheng pulled away to walk through the gates, neither of them said anything.

Now, Guanheng was in his new apartment in New York, getting ready to go meet the rest of the staff at the university. They'd set up an orientation of sorts in the department, for him and the new other PhD candidates— there were a few of them from abroad this year, arriving early like him, and the staff had taken great care to make sure they were set up and comfortable before the start of the academic year. Even when Guanheng walked into the department, someone was there to greet him, welcoming him in rapid fire English as they led him inside.

"Another one of our PhD candidates has arrived already," the woman who welcomed him told him, leading him to a room. Guanheng nodded, not paying too much attention— he was trying to absorb everything else around him, the layout of the new building, signs and posters and art on the wall. "You can get to know him for a while, while we wait for the others. Help yourself to some coffee, as well."

She opened a door for him, gesturing him inside, and Guanheng smiled and thanked her politely as he entered. It wasn't anything special, a conference room with some pastries and coffee on the table, but the figure sitting by the window made him stop.

It was light out, this time, compared to the last time Guanheng had seen him. The warm rays filtered through the leaves of the tree outside, landing on his face in patches. His hair was longer now, a honeyed blonde, tucked behind one pierced ear. But it was the same person, no doubt— and when he looked at Guanheng, the lilt to his smile told him all that he needed to know.

"Hey, nice to meet you," he said in English, rising from his seat. He made his way over to Guanheng, frozen by the door, and held out a hand— a warm, human palm. Over his head, the number 2160 rested, faded and white. "I'm Ten."