Chapter Text
Soft fingers interlock with his.
They hold on tightly to his hand and refuse to let go of it.
There’s a familiar weight resting on Xie’s shoulder. He graciously allows it to stay there, not minding his body being used as some sort of pillow.
He tilts his head, just a little, to peek at the figure by his side, and finds himself mesmerized by the sight of the white-haired man closing his eyes.
He seems calm. He seems happy.
He seems to be all of those things Xie never thought he would ever be.
And he loves it.
He loves it because no one else can see this side of Fan. Only him.
No one else in this world can catch a glimpse of the guard’s sharp features suddenly softening up around Bi’an, letting himself fall asleep right by his side, on their bed, in the house that they started sharing not so long ago.
He wants Fan to be his, he realises, while letting go of his hand and instead wrapping a hand around his body, pulling him closer. But not in a way that most husbands think of when they marry a lady. He doesn’t want to own Wujiu like a servant and force him to do everything.
He wants things to continue like this. The cuddles in the early morning, breakfast together, the walks by the bridge, perhaps even a couple nights at the bars, picking fights with people that try to condemn them for their affection.
Because like this, it is lovely. It is peaceful.
...
Which is why he doesn’t expect to find Fan’s lifeless body under the Nantai bridge a couple of months after.
And it hits him. Hard. Like being kicked in the gut.
He drowned the day before, but having not seen his body, Bi’an was clinging onto the hope that maybe Fan had walked away before the water started rising and he simply got lost, even though this bridge was their favorite place to hang out, and they knew it as much as they knew each other.
But now he is hugging his cold, wet body, not allowing anyone else to get close to them.
He cries. He screams.
This is all his fault.
Bi’an chose to become the only guilty party from that attack to the politician. He was ready to give up life, to surrender and spend the rest of his days watching over Fan while in the afterlife.
But now, Fan is the one dead.
What a twist.
His warm touch isn’t there anymore. His white smile, his raspy voice, his fingers carefully messing with Xie’s long black hair.
It’s all gone. It disappeared with Fan’s heartbeat, and it will never come back again.
He cries some more. He screams some more.
He clings onto the body and prays for a miracle, that some sort of magical being will put a hand on top of the corpse and suddenly he’ll come back to life, asking what just happened and brushing it off as an accident or a nightmare or something like that.
But nothing like that can happen. Because things like that don’t exist.
Even though Fan became the guilty party in the eyes of the government, his death being taken as self-punishment for the actions he allegedly performed on the governor’s son, Bi’an couldn’t help but feel as if he was the one getting the biggest punishment.
He lost the only person that brought him joy, and was left with a ruined reputation and a black umbrella on his right hand.
-
He opens his eyes abruptly in the middle of the night. He quickly realises how cold he feels.
He’s been reliving everything again, right?
He puts a hand on his forehead, trying to calm down from that never-ending pain.
There's no one by his side. No one to hug him and calm him down from the nightmares.
Fan Wujiu isn't here anymore.
He reminds himself of it and makes sure those words are set in his brain for today.
He's not here. He's gone.
He is dead.
The thought crosses his head every time he wakes up.
As soon as his eyes open, they desperately seek the other guard, trying to double check if all of this is just one long, stupid nightmare.
And every morning or night or whenever he wakes up, he remembers this is real life.
He gets out of the bed, slipping into his regular white clothes, and holds the umbrella close to his chest as he decides to take a walk.
The sun is coming out already.
Fan loved the sunrise, he recalled. He wasn’t usually a romantic, or someone who focused too much on the little things, but he found some sort of joy in the sight of a new day starting, the way the sky was painted by all of those soft colors.
He’d tell Bi’an that he was so much like the sunrise.
He swears he can hear his voice whispering those words in his ears.
Maybe he’s just going insane at this point. Who knows.
He opens the umbrella. It’s not raining, but there’s something about Fan still lingering on it. Something he wants to hold on to.
Even if that umbrella indirectly caused him to die.
And even though Xie Bi’an goes out every single day, holding the umbrella with one hand and wearing mourning clothes so the rest of their town doesn’t forget about Wujiu that easily, he can’t do this any longer.
He can’t live any longer.
He’s not here anymore and he can’t take it.
They’ve done everything together. From their excessive (and exhausting) work, to living a life full of this familiar tingling in his stomach, their melodious heartbeats merging and kisses fluttering all across their skin, they were always together.
Attached.
Like two sides of the same coin.
And he can’t live without this other half.
Because no one ever loved him like Fan did.
And no lady could bring him joy like Fan did.
So, he heads over to the bridge one night.
The night isn’t particularly special.
No celebrations. No special events. No nothing.
Only the blue lanterns that let him see what he is about to do.
He carries the umbrella, a piece of rope and a letter with Fan Wujiu’s name neatly written on it.
He leaves the umbrella and the letter on the muddy ground.
The letter flies away from the river, helped by a kind wind that doesn’t want Fan’s name to be soaked again.
He looks at it going away. He doesn’t stop it.
He simply stands there and looks at the ground.
The rope is roughly gripped by his hands. Maybe it’s in fear. Maybe he’s re-considering things.
Fan wouldn’t want this. He’d want Xie to live a long, happy life.
But a happy world isn’t completed without Fan’s love.
He makes a choice. His final choice.
There’s no turning back. He doesn’t want to come back anyway.
He simply allows his body to hang under the bridge.
He knows something breaks. His neck, most likely.
He uses his last breath to leave a painful prayer to the gods he believes in (and the ones he doesn’t believe in) , so they let him be with his lover once more.
And all of a sudden, his feet don’t touch the ground again.