Archive of Our Own

✵

Xie Lian begins with crochet.

“It’s supposed to be easier than knitting,” he tells Hua Cheng. He sits on the other end of the couch, his laptop balanced on his knees and his toes tucked beneath Hua Cheng’s thigh. Although he’s chatting, most of his attention is devoted to the laptop screen, where a youtube tutorial is instructing him how best to wrap the wool around his fingers. The yarn he’s chosen is creamy and soft and tangles itself almost wilfully between his ring finger and his pinkie. Hua Cheng gets it. “At least for beginners.”

Hua Cheng hums and squeezes Xie Lian’s foot. “I’m sure Gege will pick it up in no time.”

Xie Lian rolls his eyes and shoots Hua Cheng an impossibly fond look over the laptop. It sings through Hua Cheng’s body, just the same as always. You’d be forgiven for thinking – although not by Hua Cheng – that he might have developed some sort of resistance to those looks by now. They are coming up on their third year together, or at least together like this. Looks like these – as outlandish and undeserved as they may be – aren’t infrequent. Call it exposure therapy if you like; given that he sees them so often, it stands to reason that Hua Cheng might have grown used to them.

But no. He could never. They fell him every time.

While Hua Cheng loses all the air from his lungs, Xie Lian looks back down at his tutorial. As he focuses, making loops of yarn and fumbling, a look of great concentration takes over his face. Unknowingly, he bites on the tip of his tongue. Hua Cheng could watch him for years.

It comes as no surprise to Hua Cheng when Gege does, as he’d said, start to pick up the craft. It takes some time – more of those frowns, more tangles, more tutorials – but eventually he gets into the swing of it. He figures out the best way to loop the yarn, he learns how to twist the hook exactly right. He keeps Hua Cheng appraised of his progress as he goes.

“Look, I’ve made my first chain!”

“This is called a magic circle.”

“Did you know the stitches have different names in Europe?”

For the most part, Xie Lian works without a goal, save for improving his skills. He putters along, making things called granny squares in different styles, practicing different shapes and stitches. His wool is all from the community centre, donated a few weeks earlier. One of the other volunteers had planned to throw it out to free up the space, but Xie Lian had stepped in, asking if he could take it home instead. The colours are haphazard and don’t match at all, but of course the result of Xie Lian’s hard work is beautiful. He collects every square he makes, keeping them in a lumpy pile on the windowsill.

“I don’t know what I’ll make with them yet,” he tells Hua Cheng one Sunday morning, “but I’m sure I can come up with something.”

He doesn’t crochet all of his time, but when they’re idle, when they have some spare time that might otherwise be spent reading or watching a film together, Xie Lian will often have his latest project close by. He’s always liked keeping his hands busy, so it works perfectly. He can relax, but at the same time he can make something. Something tangible that he can look at when he’s finished. And every time he finishes a square, he holds it up proudly – passing it over to Hua Cheng to have a look before he sets it aside with the others. Hua Cheng looks at each one carefully, considering the delicate stitches and thinking about how lucky this thing is, to have been made by such gentle, cautious hands.

 Xie Lian doesn’t notice as the collection of donated wool comes close to exhausted, but Hua Cheng does. Hua Cheng thinks about going shopping for more himself and surprising Gege with it later, but ultimately decides against it. They’ll go together; that way, Gege can pick out the wool he wants exactly. There are all sorts of different wool to choose from, apparently, and Hua Cheng doesn’t want to make things difficult by accidentally picking the wrong sort.

When the wool does finally run out, though, Xie Lian doesn’t immediately think about buying more. Instead, he considers his collection of squares thoughtfully.

“Do you know what you’ll do with them, yet?” Hua Cheng asks.

Xie Lian hums. “I think I’ll stitch them all together. We have thread, don’t we?”

They do. That night, he helps Gege lay each square down on the carpet. Together they shift and sort through them, playing around with the patterns until Gege is happy with the result.

“A blanket?” Hua Cheng asks.

Xie Lian nods and smiles sunnily. “I can take it back to the community centre on Monday. It was theirs to start with anyway. I’m sure someone there can find a use for it.”

Privately, Hua Cheng thinks it ought to be framed, given a plaque, and displayed at a gallery. At the very least, shown somewhere that Hua Cheng can tell everyone about it. About the time and the care that Gege put into every single stitch. But Gege would never agree, so Hua Cheng just nods. He wants it at the community centre, so that’s where it will go. Even if it would look absurdly beautiful on their sofa or their bed. Even if it would be soft and comfortable and warm to cosy under in the evenings. 

They spend the rest of the night pinning the squares together. Then Xie Lian finds a needle and thread and declares that Hua Cheng is not allowed, under any circumstances, to help him sew them all together.

“There’s a way to crochet them together, but I’ve run out of wool.” Xie Lian frowns a little, staring down at all the squares. “I should have thought of that.”

“We’ll get you more,” Hua Cheng says immediately.

Xie Lian smiles. “I’m sure normal thread will work just fine.”

“We can at least get you a machine,” Hua Cheng says. Surely sewing so many squares by hand will hurt Gege’s fingers. There’s eighty-one of them; it’ll take him an age if Hua Cheng isn’t allowed to help.

Xie Lian brushes away the thought. “Don’t be silly. People have been sewing by hand for years. I’m sure I can manage one blanket.”

By the end of the weekend, his fingers are red and tender, but the blanket is finished, and Xie Lian is ecstatic. Hua Cheng drinks in the way Xie Lian holds the blanket up, flipping it each way so that Hua Cheng can see it properly. He drapes it over his shoulders to show off how long it is, how comfortable it will be for whoever needs it at the centre.

“We should test it, at the very least,” Hua Cheng says. He reaches out and takes a gentle hold of Xie Lian’s pyjama shirt, pulling him carefully close and down onto the couch with him. “Just to make sure it’s perfect.”

Of course, he already knows that it is. Xie Lian knows it too if his pleased grin is anything to go by, but he cuddles up underneath Hua Cheng’s arm regardless. Once he’s settled, Hua Cheng arranges the blanket carefully over them both. He makes sure the end is folded under Xie Lian’s tucked up knees. Then he takes Xie Lian’s hands carefully in his own.

He kisses Xie Lian’s pink fingertips. “Gege is so talented.”

Xie Lian blushes beautifully, just like he does everything else. “I’ve only just started,” he chides, even as he nestles closer. “There’s still so much for me to learn. I’m sure there’s a lot of things I could have done better.”

Hua Cheng hums. “No,” he says easily. “I don’t think so.”  

Xie Lian huffs and blushes a lot more. Still, he smiles when Hua Cheng pushes him down into the couch cushions to kiss him something silly.

✵

The community centre is pleased to take the blanket, which makes Xie Lian glow when he comes home from volunteering the following Monday. Even better, when one of the women that Xie Lian works with sees the blanket, she asks Xie Lian if he’s ever been interested in knitting. She used to knit all the time, she told Xie Lian, who told Hua Cheng later that night, but she’s recently moved in with her daughter and her daughter’s husband and her two grandchildren, so she’s had to downsize.

“Tomorrow, she’ll bring in the things she can’t keep for herself,” Xie Lian tells Hua Cheng with bright eyes. “And she says she’ll teach me how to get started. She says it isn’t too different from crochet, although it might take me some time to pick it up.”

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out in no time,” Hua Cheng says.

And he does. When Gege returns home the following evening, the first thing he does is wave a cotton tote bag in the air. He has been given a few pair of knitting needles – which apparently come in different sizes – and some of the wool that the woman no longer had space for. She has also passed on two small pattern books for beginners, which Xie Lian flicks through happily once they’ve eaten their dinner.

“Ooh, look!” Gege is excited by almost every page he turns. “I could make a beanie! This says it’s perfect for beginners. Do you think Shi Qingxuan would like a beanie?”

Hua Cheng looks at Xie Lian’s beautiful hands, then at the lumpy beginnings of his newest project that hangs from one of his knitting needles. This is as far as he and his colleague, Luanne, had made it on their break today, a collection of lumpy stitches, put together with painstaking earnestness. Shi Qingxuan could never understand the gravity or the importance of such a gift. They don’t deserve it.

But that isn’t the question Gege has asked. Shi Qingxuan is enthusiastic in all things. At the very least, they are a good friend to Xie Lian. Even if they didn’t understand the significance of a present woven by Gege’s own hands, they would certainly still appreciate it.

So, Hua Cheng smiles. “I’m sure they would.”

Xie Lian begins this new project with the same enthusiasm as the last. The needles prove a little fiddly, which means Xie Lian is a bit distracted over the following days. Hua Cheng frequently finds him curled up on their sofa, his legs tucked beneath him, frowning down as he fights to make the wool cooperate. Hua Cheng makes sure his tea is warm, and that he has enough cushions, and tries to keep out of his way. Tries being the operative word. Although he is preoccupied with his work, Xie Lian frowns when he notices Hua Cheng sitting on the armchair rather than beside him on the lounge. He beckons him over and, when Hua Cheng has resettled at his side, presses his feet against Hua Cheng’s thigh.

He waves his project in the air. “It’s coming along nicely, don’t you think?”

Hua Cheng smooths his hand over the arch of Xie Lian’s bare foot. “It’s beautiful, Gege.”   

The beanie comes together quickly. All too soon, Xie Lian is searching the internet for instructions on how to weave in the ends of the piece as a finishing touch. As soon as he has done so, he puts the beanie on Hua Cheng’s head.

“There!” He tugs the fabric over Hua Cheng’s ears, making sure they are neatly tucked in, then fusses with the strands of hair that have been jostled around. He smooths his hands over Hua Cheng’s forehead, making sure his eyes are clear, then drops a kiss to Hua Cheng’s nose. “Do you like it?”

Hua Cheng feels a little dizzy. “I love it.”

Now, Gege plays with the folded brim of the beanie, making sure it’s sitting exactly right. “It’s warm? Is it too scratchy? Do you think I should have made it bigger?”

Hua Cheng takes a gentle hold of his wrists. He holds those perfect hands to his chest, staying still until Xie Lian looks away from the beanie and at him instead.

“Gege,” he says, very seriously. “It’s perfect.”

Anything that Xie Lian makes would be perfect, and this instance is no different. The wool is soft, the stretch isn’t too tight, and the length of it is just right.

“Do you think Shi Qingxuan will like it?”

They’d better, Hua Cheng thinks.

He kisses the inside of Xie Lian’s wrist. “Of course.”

And he’s right. They meet with Shi Qingxuan for breakfast the following Saturday, who shrieks in delight when Xie Lian presents the gift. Their hands flutter with excitement, and they waste no time at all before burying their face in the wool. Xie Lian looks inordinately pleased. Hua Cheng sees the way Shi Qingxuan rubs the beanie against their cheek and feels a flicker of jealousy, but he stifles it quickly. There’s no room for that. Xie Lian would be so disappointed if he knew Hua Cheng was thinking anything so ugly.

Shi Qingxuan pulls the beanie on and grins luminously at them both.

“I love it,” they say. “I’m going to wear it to work on Monday. Everyone will ask where I got it from. I’ll tell them there’s nothing else like it because it was made by my best friend, just for me.”

They turn to He Xuan, who is there too. He has brought with him his standard aura of disinterest. When Shi Qingxuan turns to show the beanie to him directly, he grunts.

Hua Cheng shoots him a vicious glare when Xie Lian is distracted. He Xuan ignores him. He looks far more disgruntled when Shi Qingxuan smacks him on the arm.

“I’ll bet you wish you had a friend as good as mine,” Shi Qingxuan says. “When it’s cold down at the docks you’ll be sorry you turned your nose up.”

Gege waves a hand. “Don’t be mean, he doesn’t have to like it.”

Hua Cheng thinks many, many venomous things. As if he can intuit this, Xie Lian drops a hand to Hua Cheng’s leg. His fingertips rub in little circles on the inside of his knee. Hua Cheng is disarmed immediately.

It’s Shi Qingxuan who continues to huff. “Yes, he does,” they say. “I’m very sorry about him. We’re working on his manners.”

Hua Cheng takes great solace in the way He Xuan scowls. He doesn’t meet anyone’s eye, but he doesn’t argue either, and Hua Cheng spies a dark, embarrassed flush climbing up his ears.

After breakfast, they go their separate ways. Xie Lian has planned nothing else for the day, except for perhaps lying about in the garden while the weather is nice. Hua Cheng has other plans. Rather than returning home, he takes them to a nearby market. It’s a weekly thing, held by an old church a couple of blocks away from their apartment.

“What are we doing here?” Gege asks, although he seems intrigued by the sight before them.

Hua Cheng has been doing his research. There are all the normal wool and yarn stores, of course, but Xie Lian deserves something special. Here, some of the local women using the market to sell the wool that they have spun and dyed themselves.

When Xie Lian spies the wool stalls, he gasps. Then he grins.

“I thought you might like to start a new project,” Hua Cheng says. “Apparently the wool here is good quality.”

At the stall, Xie Lian’s eyes are bright as he takes in all the options before him. He holds his hands, clutched together, close to his chest. It is as if he is holding himself back, forcing himself not to touch anything.

“I don’t need this,” he says. “I still have wool at home.”

The woman behind the stalls smiles warmly at them. “You can never have enough wool, my dear.”

“Exactly.” Hua Cheng nudges Xie Lian a little with his shoulder. “You’ll find something to make with it, I’m sure.”

They take their time, wandering from stall to stall. Gege wants to look at all the stalls before he decides what he might want. There is more than just wool here, too. He gets a little distracted by some handmade pottery that the stall owner makes himself, and then by some landscapes that another woman paints of local spots around the area.

At one stall, Xie Lian catches sight of some beautiful red wool in a woven basket and grabs excitedly at Hua Cheng’s arm.

“It’s so soft!” he says, when he picks up a ball.

The stall owner looks up at him kindly. She has white hair and is practically half of their height. “It’s an alpaca blend. My daughter owns a farm up north and sends it down to me. It’s all ethically sourced, I’ll tell you. You’ll never find happier alpacas, I promise.”

That makes Gege’s face light up. He holds the ball over to Hua Cheng. “Here, feel it. Isn’t it amazing?”

Hua Cheng touches it. Of course, Gege is right. Some of the other wool they’ve seen already has had a scratchy feel to it, the sort that might irritate at someone’s skin.  

“Oh, this colour would look so good on you, San Lang!” Xie Lian holds the ball up near Hua Cheng’s face now, leaning back as if he is imagining what the ball of wool might one day become. A lovely warmth blooms through Hua Cheng. “Don’t you think so?”

Hua Cheng nods easily. So does the stall owner.

“We have to finish our loop of all the stalls,” Xie Lian tells her solemnly, placing the ball back in the basket. “But we’ll be back.”

The stall owner smiles at him and smiles even brighter when they return less than half an hour later. Gege moves straight for the basket again and begins to heap balls into his hands.

“We’ll take…” Here, he frowns. “Um. How many balls of wool do you think I’ll need to make a sweater?”

The woman looks thoughtful. “Hmm,” she says. “Do you already have a pattern?”

Xie Lian shakes his head.

“Well,” the woman says, taking this in. “Will it be for you?”

“No.” Xie Lian holds the red wool up near Hua Cheng again. “For my boyfriend. See, don’t you think it’ll look so lovely on him?”

The woman smiles brightly. “Of course. Oh, that’s so lovely. And very brave of you!”

She shoots them a conspiratorial look.

Hua Cheng and Xie Lian both blink at her.

“Well,” the woman goes on, as if the last moment was perfectly ordinary. “What size needles do you think you’ll use? For this wool, I think a four-point-five might work best. So then, six balls, to be safe? It’s always better to have more than less.”

Although he and Hua Cheng share a quick, bewildered look, Xie Lian seems happy to let the moment pass. He agrees easily to the number the woman has given him. He tries to stack all six up in his arms and then pay himself, which is ridiculous. Hua Cheng ducks in quickly to pay, and to take four of the balls from Gege’s hands.

“Thank you so much,” Xie Lian says, as they leave.

“Good luck!” the woman says. “You’ll need to find a pattern to follow, especially if you’re new to knitting. My daughter tells me there’s all sorts of things available on the internet now. There’s a lot of books too. If you have any problems, come back next week. I’ll be here.”  

Xie Lian gives her a grateful smile. As they walk away, he tucks himself close to Hua Cheng’s side. He tries to take some of the balls back, and pouts when Hua Cheng refuses to let him.

“What do you think she meant by brave?” Gege asks.

Hua Cheng ponders it for a moment. “Maybe just that it’s a big project? A sweater might be a little more complicated than a beanie. But what does she know? You’ll figure it out. You always do.”

Xie Lian hums. He doesn’t seem quite convinced, but he doesn’t say anything else about it. When they reach the car, he takes the wool back from Hua Cheng so that Hua Cheng can drive. As Hua Cheng passes it over, he feels how soft the wool is once more. The thought of an entire sweater, made for him by those perfect, loving hands; it warms him thoroughly.

He drives them home with a bright grin on his face. He couldn’t stifle it if he tried.

✵

When they get home, Xie Lian is anxious to begin the project, but disappointed to find that there aren’t any sweater patterns in the books his colleague had gifted him. Hua Cheng suggests that he look online, so Xie Lian spends the rest of the weekend on his laptop, scrolling through options. Every few minutes, he tilts the screen so that Hua Cheng can see it. “What about this one?” This sweater has a sort-of criss-cross pattern that runs up the body and down the arms. “Or this one?” This one is a mixture of different stitches, as far as Hua Cheng can tell. It has a soft collar that Hua Cheng could tuck up high to protect his neck. “Or this one?” A rolled turtleneck, with ribbing at the cuffs.

By the time Monday rolls around, he has still not decided which he wants to try. “I’ll ask if Luanne has any suggestions,” Xie Lian says, “She might have some patterns she recommends.”

That evening, Hua Cheng expects to hear all about it. The happy reports he gets when Gege returns from work, when Gege tells him about his day and all the progress he’s made, always make him feel warm.

But Xie Lian is a little subdued tonight.

He is quiet when he comes in the door, taking off his coat and toeing off his shoes.

“Is everything alright?” Hua Cheng asks. He comes over to Xie Lian quickly, all sorts of worried thoughts leaping quickly to his head. It takes quite a lot to rattle Gege, and he is immediately ready to leave the house and fight whoever he has to, to fix it.

Xie Lian doesn’t let him. Instead, he tucks his arms around Hua Cheng’s waist and practically headbutts Hua Cheng’s shoulder, burying his face there.

Hua Cheng embraces him without thought. He tucks one arm around Xie Lian’s shoulders and cradles his other hand at the nape of Xie Lian’s neck. Alarm thunders through him, but then Xie Lian says, his voice muffled,

“Everything’s fine. It was just a strange day.”

They stand by the front door for a long moment, holding each other. Xie Lian breathes him in deeply, his shoulders rising and falling with it. He squeezes him tightly.

Then, as abruptly as he’d caught Hua Cheng up in his arms, he pulls back. He smiles brightly, sunnily, as if everything is completely normal.

“I’m hungry,” he says. “What should we have for dinner? I’ll cook.”

Bewildered, Hua Cheng follows Xie Lian to the kitchen. He asks more questions, checking and checking again that everything is okay, while Xie Lian potters near the pantry, pulling out different ingredients. No matter how Hua Cheng prods for more information, Xie Lian gives him no further clues.

When Hua Cheng has perhaps asked one time too many, Xie Lian pauses to gently touch Hua Cheng’s cheek.

“I’m alright, I promise.” His face is clear and earnest. He watches Hua Cheng with the softest, fondest of looks. “You are so wonderful for being so worried. I’m so lucky to have you.”

Hua Cheng thinks it is distinctly the other way around, but with Xie Lian’s reassurance, he can’t really argue. He leans into the touch and finally nods, accepting it. If Gege says everything is okay, Hua Cheng won’t force him to say otherwise. He can be patient. Gege will tell him eventually.

Except, once the initial strangeness of the evening has passed, when they have settled back into the comfort of their normal routine, it doesn’t come back up. It fades, and Xie Lian seems entirely content to let it.

The next week is as normal as ever. Xie Lian comes home from work happily. They have dinner together every night. They cuddle on the couch. On Wednesday, when Xie Lian gets a little handsy during an episode of Grand Designs, they fuck there too. Without their clothes, when their sweat has cooled, it feels distinctly chilly.

“That blanket of yours would be perfect right now,” Hua Cheng says, as he tucks Xie Lian more neatly beneath him.

Xie Lian giggles, gazing up at him, nestled in among the soft couch cushions. “I’ll make another, then.”

Hua Cheng kisses his nose. “Please.”

He is mostly joking, but the following night, Xie Lian brings out his crochet hook once more. He hasn’t been knitting this week; his preference in the evenings has been to curl up with Hua Cheng and draw nonsense patterns on Hua Cheng’s stomach with his fingertips. (It’s those fingers, wandering a little too low, that had turned things heated the night before.) Hua Cheng is a little surprised that he’s returned to crochet, rather than beginning his new knitting project, but he doesn’t comment. A sweater is a big undertaking, and Xie Lian is still so new to the craft. Hua Cheng assumes he wants to build his confidence with what he already knows, rather than occupy himself with a complicated project too quickly.

He makes more of the little squares, using the wool that Luanne had given him. It’s another haphazard mix of colours, bright blue, and orange, and yellow, which Xie Lian weaves together with a border of white. He only makes a few squares a night, and although Hua Cheng still gets distracted by the loops of thread wound around Xie Lian’s fingers, it soon blends in as part of their routine.

Before he knows it, the weather turns colder, and the night arrives earlier. By the time Xie Lian decides that he’s made enough squares, he’s been crocheting – and knitting – for almost three months.

“I can crochet the squares together, this time,” Xie Lian tells him. “I think it’ll make it look a bit more put together. Sort of like a patchwork thing.”

“I can’t wait to see it,” Hua Cheng says.

And then they have a blanket, just in time for the winter. It’s beautiful, which Hua Cheng had obviously known it would be. Their home is filled with all sorts of fun and contrasting things. Xie Lian has always had eclectic taste, and the mix of bits and pieces he has gradually collected make their private space feel truly theirs. The blanket fits in perfectly with the rest.

Xie Lian returns to the knitting needles, but not to the red wool, which Hua Cheng knows is piled up in a corner of Xie Lian’s study. Luanne is still downsizing as she gets used to living with her family again, and she seems to be pulling wool from all corners of the earth, ready for Xie Lian to use.

“I’ve got crochet down, I think,” Gege says. “I need to do more practice with knitting. It’s harder than I thought it’d be.”

That makes sense. Again, a sweater is a big undertaking.

As it becomes more habitual, Gege’s crafts fade a little into the background. Hua Cheng is always interested in what he is making, of course, but it is less of a novelty. Xie Lian’s confidence is growing. He doesn’t show off every row of stitches to Hua Cheng like he used to. He settles, content to work on his projects and present them proudly to Hua Cheng when they are finished.

He makes them little coasters for their dining table, shaped like white daisies. He makes two little cosies for their soup bowls, so that they can carry the hot dishware without hurting their hands. He makes a cushion to match the blanket.

Hua Cheng thinks it’s lovely, to see their space fill up with so many things that Gege has made with this own hands. It’s nothing, not really, when he occasionally walks past the study, and spies that stack of red wool.

He can be patient. Gege will make him a sweater when he feels ready for it. Hua Cheng is happy to wait.

✵

Catching up with Mu Qing and Feng Xin is always exhausting.

Hua Cheng is certainly aware of his own shortcomings. He knows he is selfish, and abrasive, and often takes things too far. It’s fine. He’s working on it, if only so that he can be someone that Xie Lian can be proud to be with. Self-improvement is good.

This only makes it more frustrating when he sees these two idiots. If they have heard of the term ‘self-reflection,’ then they have clearly done everything in their power to avoid it. They are always at each other’s necks, for one, and they are never quiet about it. They don’t seem to care that Gege is always asking them to find some sort of peace with one another. Hua Cheng honestly doesn’t know why Xie Lian keeps them around – except, well, of course he does. Gege is giving and kind and putting up with these idiots is exactly the sort of thing he’d do, simply because his heart is so big. Christ, Hua Cheng loves him so much. And, honestly, he’d put up with an endless amount of nonsense if it were all to keep Gege happy. Xie Lian doesn’t get to see Mu Qing or Feng Xin very often. They are both workaholics and want everyone to know that they always have something important that they should be doing.

Still, it’s slightly easier to cope with the terrible two in a public setting. Hua Cheng is therefore very pleased when Xie Lian tells him that they’ll be seeing Mu Qing and Feng Xin that weekend, but at a dinner party Shi Qingxuan is throwing. In a group like that, the effect of the two is diluted.

Of course, they are already fighting when Hua Cheng and Xie Lian arrive. Over what, who knows? Hua Cheng can’t be fucked to try guessing. All he knows is that, when Shi Qingxuan lets them in, the sound of yelling is already bouncing off the walls.

“What were you thinking!? You should have known better than to—!”

“Fuck you, this isn’t my fault! You should have—!”

“They both brought white wine,” Shi Qingxuan reports as they usher them inside. “You know. End of days, stuff.”

Xie Lian smiles fondly at the sound of their shouting. “I’ve missed them.”

Hua Cheng needs a drink.

This is good, because Xie Lian makes an immediate beeline for the kitchen – the source of the screaming match. When they reach the kitchen door, it’s to the familiar sight of Fen Xing and Mu Qing standing impossibly close to each other, both of their faces contorted while they yell.

“How can you be this dense, all the time?” Mu Qing demands.

Feng Xin’s face is very red. “Me dense?” He echoes incredulously. “You’re calling me dense?”

“Who else?” Mu Qing roars.

Xie Lian opens his arms. “My dear friends.”

He steps right up to them and sweeps them both into a hug, one arm for each of them. Mu Qing and Feng Xin’s eyes bulge, although they have known Xie Lian for a very long time and ought to expect this. They are still for a beat, shocked, before they begin to splutter and struggle.

Xie Lian releases them and looks at them both impossibly fondly. “I’ve missed you,” he tells Mu Qing first. Then he turns to Feng Xin. “Both of you. It’s been too long.”

Feng Xin goes a pink.

Mu Qing grumbles, “It’s only been a few months.”

“That’s too long,” Xie Lian says easily. “I know you both work so hard, but you have to set some time aside for yourselves. You’d think neither of you have any friends, the way you carry on.”

The two splutter some more.

Hua Cheng leans against the doorframe and takes it all in, tickled pink. Again, as he always does, he ruminates on what a wonderful man Gege is.

“Now. Shi Qingxuan says you’ve both brought some wine. What a treat. How thoughtful of you.” Gege pats Mu Qing’s cheek, which makes the man turn a hilarious shade of red. “Shall we all have a glass? San Lang, would you like some?”

“Thank you, Gege,” Hua Cheng says. “Yes please.”

Mu Qing and Feng Xin both glance over at him, only now seeming to realise he’s here too. They like him about as much as Hua Cheng likes them and manage it in about the same way. Feng Xin rolls his eyes. Mu Qing scoffs. Both of them quickly return their attention to Xie Lian.

“Let’s start with the Riesling,” Mu Qing says. “It’s all the way from South Australia. One of my colleagues owns a winery there, and they—”

“Please,” Feng Xin interrupts. “The Sauvignon Blanc is surely more suitable; it’s French, from the Loire Valley, it’s perfect for tonight, it will complement the cheeses that Shi Qingxuan’s put out exactly—”

Xie Lian shushes them both. “San Lang will choose for us.” He glances over his shoulder, shooting Hua Cheng a conspiratorial look that says, ‘help me, please’. “Won’t you?”

Hua Cheng steps forward, nodding. “Of course, Gege.”

Mu Qing and Feng Xin both scowl. It is hilarious, how at odds they are, when they do almost everything in sync.

While Hua Cheng occupies himself with the wine – he picks neither the Riesling nor the Sauvignon Blanc, but instead the Vouvray that he and Gege have brought along with them – Xie Lian keeps his friends busy. He chatters at them, asking about their work and their lives, and filling them in on his.

“Oh! And I’ve taken up knitting! Well, crocheting too, but they’re fairly similar. And I’ve made you both something! San Lang, do you still have the bag?”

Hua Cheng hums. “Here, Gege.”

The brown paper bag is on the bench next to him. Xie Lian fetches it quickly, squeezing Hua Cheng’s arm as he does. Then he turns back to his friends.

“Look!” He digs into the bag and pulls out their presents: two scarves, one mainly black and one mainly navy. These, he had knitted in one colour, before switching colours at the ends. The alternating colours make them look like the perfect set. Hua Cheng isn’t sure if Xie Lian had purposefully made them matching gifts, but he is absolutely chuffed he gets to be here when Feng Xin and Mu Qing figure it out. “Do you like them?”

Hua Cheng glances over his shoulder to make sure they react to their gifts appropriately. Both men are a little pink in the face, but they are too caught up in Xie Lian’s earnestness to complain. (Isn’t that always the way?)

“I thought you could have the black,” Xie Lian holds the black one out to Mu Qing. Then he turns and loops the navy scarf around Feng Xin’s neck. When he is finished, he turns back to Mu Qing, who is still holding his scarf with a stunned expression. Xie Lian patiently takes it from his hands and winds it around Mu Qing’s neck. He fusses with both scarves for a minute, making sure they sit right. Then he beams at them both. “There. Those colours suit you well! What do you think?”

Hua Cheng shoots both of them a dangerous look, but neither of them notices. Hua Cheng can hardly blame them. They are too caught up in Xie Lian to pay anything else any mind, and Hua Cheng is certainly familiar with how that feels.

Feng Xin is the first to clear his throat. “They’re good,” he says, a little gruffly. “Um. Just in time for winter. Thank you.”

“It’s winter already,” Mu Qing grumbles. Then he grunts when Xie Lian elbows him. “Thank you. They’re great. Mine is especially good.”

“Mine’s better,” Feng Xin says.

Hua Cheng interrupts them before they can say anything else.

“Your wine,” he says to Xie Lian, passing him a glass. He has in own in his other hand. To the other two, he says, “Yours are on the bench.” They both glare at him a little, but he ignores them. Eyes on Xie Lian, he says, “Gege, should we go say hello to everyone else?”

“Oh, yes!”

Mu Qing and Feng Xin have several more arguments through the night. Over their work, over what they do in their spare time, over who will see Xie Lian the soonest after tonight. It’s silly, and as exhausting as ever, but Hua Cheng doesn’t miss that they keep their scarves on the entire evening. Even when it’s grows hot from all the other people in the small house, or when they sit down for dinner, the two keep their scarves close by.

They are endlessly annoying, but Hua Cheng admits that they can be their own sort of good, at times. Especially when he sees how happy Gege is at the sight of them, bundled up in his creations.

When dinner is finished, when Shi Qingxuan has seen them all off, and when Hua Cheng and Xie Lian have returned home to relax – Hua Cheng walks past the study once more.

He sees that pile of red wool and pauses.

When he reaches their bedroom, Xie Lian is freshly showered and tucked under the blankets. He has propped himself up with two of their pillows and opens his arms wide when Hua Cheng appears at the doorway.

“Come here,” Gege says, beckoning him closer. He pushes the covers back, spreading his legs so that Hua Cheng has the perfect cradle in which to crawl. Hua Cheng drapes himself over Gege’s body, burying his face in the crook of his neck. Xie Lian’s fingers settle quickly in Hua Cheng’s hair, his fingernails dragging lightly across his scalp. “I shared you a lot today. I’d like some of you for myself.”

Hua Cheng hums, warm, pleased. “You have all of me,” he says. “You know that.”

Gege hugs him tight and presses a kiss to his hair. They lie like that for a long while, Xie Lian playing with Hua Cheng’s hair while Hua Cheng simply breathes Xie Lian in. He basks in the warmth of Xie Lian’s embrace, and the velvet touch of his skin. He could easily drift off like this, if it weren’t for that one, niggling little thought that lingers at the back of his mind.

After a little while, Hua Cheng clears his throat. “Gege?”

Xie Lian hums. “San Lang?”

Hua Cheng swallows. His pulse jumps a little and he hopes that Xie Lian can’t feel it. “I was just wondering,” he starts carefully, trying desperately to sound casual, “if you ever found a pattern you like?

Xie Lian makes a curious noise. “Pattern?”

Hua Cheng nods. He keeps his face down, pressed against Xie Lian’s skin. It is the best place of all to hide himself. “You know,” he says. “For the sweater?”

Xie Lian stiffens. If they weren’t pressed so closely together, there’s a chance that Hua Cheng would have missed it – except, who is he kidding? Of course he wouldn’t have. He is always attuned to Xie Lian. He has made an artform of it. He always wants to know how Xie Lian is feeling, if he is happy or unhappy or annoyed or uncomfortable.

Pressed together or not, the sudden tension in Xie Lian is impossible to miss. His hand in Hua Cheng’s hair stutters, his body tightens up beneath Hua Cheng’s.

“Oh,” he says, in that voice of his that is supposed to be neutral, but Hua Cheng knows is not. “Um. No. Not yet.”

There is a beat, an awkward silence. They don’t have those very often anymore. Not here, not in this safe little space they have built for themselves. It makes the distinct wrongness of the moment all the more stark.

Hua Cheng swallows. He swallows down his disappointment, and his nerves, and the weird feeling that rises in his chest. “Oh. That’s okay. I was just wondering.”

He tucks his head even closer against Xie Lian. He is not sure what should happen next. They aren’t wrongfooted around each other, not these days. It feels odd. He expects, maybe, for Gege to reassure him. To rush quickly in with an excuse of some kind, explaining himself.

But he doesn’t.

Gege stays quiet. After a few seconds, he carefully begins to play with Hua Cheng’s hair again. His touch is a little more tentative than it was before, but it grows in confidence. He trails his fingers from the crown of Hua Cheng’s head, down, around the shell of his ear. Then he tucks them right beneath Hua Cheng’s jaw, tugging him gently up.

Hua Cheng goes as he is bade. He thinks maybe this is the moment, when he lifts his head, that Xie Lian will say something about the sweater.

He is wrong again.

Instead, Gege kisses him. It is a fierce thing. Xie Lian holds Hua Cheng gently but firmly at the jaw, keeping him where he wants him while his tongue insists at Hua Cheng’s lips. When Hua Cheng opens his mouth, Xie Lian claims the given territory immediately. Although he is still confused, Hua Cheng finds it remarkably easy to lose himself in the touch. His eyes flutter shut; he lets Xie Lian move him as he wants. He makes a surprised noise when Xie Lian continues to push, until they are rolling, until Xie Lian has reversed their positions and pins him thoroughly to the bed.

“I love you so much,” Gege says, when they break apart, just for a moment. “More than anything. My San Lang.”

Dazed, still a little confused, Hua Cheng says, “I love you too.”

He reaches up a hand, not even sure of his intended target, but Xie Lian takes hold of his wrist and presses it back against the sheets. He slides his other hand down Hua Cheng’s arm, until he has Hua Cheng’s other wrist held too. His gaze rakes over Hua Cheng’s face. He licks at his kiss-red lips, taking Hua Cheng in.

Carefully, he spreads his legs wider around Hua Cheng’s hips. The grind is slow, and smooth, and delicious. It places Hua Cheng exactly where he wants to be, exactly when Xie Lian wants him. They both let out a groan as pleasure sparks through them.

When Xie Lian kisses him again, Hua Cheng lets himself be claimed. Any thoughts of the sweater vanish from his mind.

What is a sweater worth anyway when he has this man in his arms?

✵

Of course, in the bright light of day, Hua Cheng still feels a little sore about it.

Shi Qingxuan has their beanie. Mu Qing and Feng Xin have their scarves. The community centre has their blanket. Hell, even their couch and their soup bowls have a little gift of their own. And the wool is there, ready and waiting for Xie Lian to pick it up.

Hua Cheng isn’t an impatient person. In fact, especially where Xie Lian is concerned, he is famously the opposite. It’s just that – all of Xie Lian’s friends get to wear these things, these little presents that he’s curated from his own hands, whenever they want. Hua Cheng isn’t annoyed that he doesn’t have the same option. Xie Lian is well within his rights to make whatever he likes, whenever he likes to. Hua Cheng wouldn’t insist upon anything.

It's just.

It makes him a little sad, sometimes. Like, maybe Gege doesn’t think that a gift for Hua Cheng is as important as the others.

It’s stupid. Hua Cheng knows that. He’s getting in his own head about this. Xie Lian loves him. Xie Lian loves him. Hua Cheng has the greatest gift of all of them. Everyone around the world ought to be jealous of him.

But. Well.

Insecurity is a silly thing.

It is in one of his more depressing moments of weakness, that Hua Cheng texts He Xuan and tells him to meet him at the pub. Neither of them are very social creatures, but they have a mutual understanding. Whenever one of them needs to get a drink and sit in silence, the other can be around to facilitate. Hua Cheng doesn’t need an escape; it’s not like that. He just needs a little time to get out of his own head. He can’t bother Gege with all his silly insecurities. He just needs to clear his thoughts, and kick himself back into gear, so that he can make sure everything stays normal at home.

He Xuan grunts in greeting when he arrives, dropping down into the seat opposite Hua Cheng.

“You look like shit.”

Hua Cheng shoots him a dark look, then lifts his glass. “Hmm. Cheers.”

He Xuan huffs a laugh. He doesn’t smile when he laughs, but it’s the closest Hua Cheng ever sees him come. “You sad fuck,” he says. “What crawled up your ass and died?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Hua Cheng says. That’s not how this little arrangement works. “Get a drink.”

He Xuan smirks at him but shrugs. “Works for me.” He tugs a pair of black, fingerless gloves from his hands and drops them on the table. “Watch my shit, will you?”

When he leaves, Hua Cheng doesn’t really notice.

He stares at the gloves.

The gloves that he recognises.

The gloves that he has watched Xie Lian struggle with over the past few weeks. The wool, from Luanne again, is much finer than he’d been used to working with. He’d fumbled it in a few places and had to undo a lot of stitches. When he’d frowned down at them, confused, he’d bitten on the tip of his tongue.

There is an odd ringing in Hua Cheng’s ears.

Xie Lian has made gloves for He Xuan. He Xuan, who is a notorious asshole, who is always rude, who doesn’t give a shit about anything. Xie Lian has made gloves for He Xuan.

He Xuan, who drops back into his seat, a beer now in hand. “How’ve you gotten worse in two minutes?”  

Everything feels very, very fragile right now.

Carefully, so carefully, Hua Cheng says, “What are those?”

He Xuan looks down. Then he shrugs. “I don’t know. I just got whatever they have on tap.”

“Not the fucking beer,” Hua Cheng says. “Those.”

“Oh.” He Xuan takes an easy sip, looking dispassionately down at the gloves. “Gloves.”

Hua Cheng might kill him.

He takes a very deep breath.

“I know they’re gloves.” His teeth are clenched together. It makes his words sound a little goofy. He’d care if he wasn’t so on edge. “Where did you get them?”

He Xuan, the dick, looks impossibly entertained. Perhaps this is the most Hua Cheng has seen him smile. Or smirk. With him, it’s one and the same.

“Thought you’d know,” he says. “Given your boyfriend’s the one who made them for me. I don’t know. He gave them to Shi Qingxuan to give to me. They’re pretty good. Warm. I like ‘em.”

Hua Cheng’s fist is so tight around his glass that he thinks there’s a very good chance he’ll break the damn thing.

“Gege made you gloves?”

Yes, He Xuan is openly grinning now. “Yup.” He pops the ‘p’. He is having the time of his life. Hua Cheng is definitely going to kill him. “Why? Jealous?”

Hua Cheng stands so abruptly it knocks his chair over. If he’d hoped that this move might intimidate, He Xuan, he’s wrong. He Xuan starts laughing, gleefully, with his entire chest. Mirth dances in his eyes. He looks like this is the best thing that’s happened to him in weeks.

Of course, the rest of the bar isn’t so relaxed. Heads swivel in his direction. Hua Cheng understands that if he were to do as he wants – that is, to punch He Xuan soundly in the face, maybe make that nose crack – it will only cause more problems later. He wouldn’t mind so much if it were only him, but the inconvenience would certainly flow on to Xie Lian, and he can’t have that.

He slams his half-full beer down on the table. Without another word, he stalks out.

Behind him, he hears He Xuan continue to laugh. “Where are you going? I thought we were gonna drink?” He doesn’t ask anything else because he loses himself giggling. It echoes behind Hua Cheng even when the door to the pub has swung soundly shut.

He stomps away from the bar. When he is a safe distance away – that is, far away enough that He Xuan won’t be able to see him sulking from inside – he stops.

He doesn’t want to go straight home. Whatever his feelings, he doesn’t want to take them out on Gege. Gege hasn’t done anything wrong.

He walks instead. The car is still at the bar, but he can pick it up later. He walks down the main street, then when that doesn’t feel like long enough, he walks through the nearby park. When that still doesn’t feel enough, he does another lap. The sun sets at some point. Hua Cheng doesn’t notice exactly when. He only has a light jacket on. It’s fucking freezing.

It helps though. He’s cleared his head a little. None of this is Gege’s fault. All of this comes down to Hua Cheng and his own damn insecurities. Those are his and his alone. He won’t poison Xie Lian, or their life together, by letting them all spill out. He’s a big boy. He needs to sort it out himself.

When the wind turns from aggressively cold to violently-chill-you-to-the-bone cold, Hua Cheng decides he has had enough time to himself. He walks back to the car, grateful to find that the pub has long since closed and the car park is practically empty. He Xuan’s motorcycle is nowhere to be seen, thank God. Now that he has had time to calm down, the last thing Hua Cheng needs is that asshole setting him off again.

As he drives home, he reminds himself of all the things he’d resolved while he’d walked.

Get over yourself, he orders himself. Gege loves you. Gege doesn’t owe you anything. It’s just a fucking sweater.

He takes a few extra minutes in the car when he arrives home. Then he shakes himself, smacks himself on the cheek, and gets out.

When he opens the door, Xie Lian is upon him immediately.

“San Lang!” His eyes are wide open with worry. He runs his hands over Hua Cheng’s neck, his shoulders, and down his arms. He pulls Hua Cheng inside, looking him all over. “Where have you been? You’re so cold, come here. Are you okay? What happened? Where did you go?”

Hua Cheng is the worst person in the world.

Who does he think he is, staying out all night, letting Gege worry about him like this?

“I’m sorry,” he says, stepping into Xie Lian’s touch, even though he doesn’t really deserve it. “I went out with He Xuan. I – I needed to clear my head a little. I didn’t mean to worry you.”

Xie Lian’s hands settle on Hua Cheng’s cheeks. His palms are warm and impossibly gentle. “Don’t say sorry. You don’t need to be sorry. I just – I didn’t know where you were, and I… Gosh, you’re so cold. Come here.”

Xie Lian tugs him further into the house. He lets himself be manhandled as Xie Lian pulls off his jacket and bundles him up in their crochet blanket instead. He tucks the fabric high and tight, pulling it around Hua Cheng’s shoulders and tucking the excess underneath his chin.

“I’m sorry,” Hua Cheng says again.

Xie Lian kisses him. His mouth is hot, compared to Hua Cheng’s frigid lips. “Don’t be, don’t be.” He wraps his arms around Hua Cheng’s middle, tucking himself in under the blanket too, giving Hua Cheng some of his body heat. “I’m glad you’re alright. Did I do something?”

“No! No,” Hua Cheng says quickly. “Of course not, I was just being silly. I didn’t mean to worry you.”

Xie Lian burrows his face in against Hua Cheng’s shoulder. “It’s okay. It’s my fault. I work myself up, I knew it would be nothing.”

Hua Cheng holds him very, very close, and feels very, very silly.

Xie Lian loosens his grip, just a fraction. Just enough that he can peer up at Hua Cheng, enough to catch his eye. “You are alright, though?”

Hua Cheng nods. In Xie Lian’s arms, his panic over a sweater feels extraordinarily trivial. What was he thinking, having a tantrum like that, when he could have been at home, wrapped up in these arms? He kisses Xie Lian’s forehead. “I’m alright. I promise.”

Xie Lian buries his face once more, his nose tucking in near Hua Cheng’s collarbone. He nods, and makes a ‘hmmm’ noise, that reverberates through Hua Cheng’s chest. They stand there for a little while. Every now and again, his grip around Hua Cheng’s waist tightens. It can’t be very comfortable for him. They are not so different in height that Xie Lian can easily hide away in Hua Cheng’s front. His neck must hurt from the way it’s bent.

Carefully, Hua Cheng inches them towards the sofa. Xie Lian goes with him easily, never once relenting his hold.

When they drop to the couch, Xie Lian crawls into his lap, a knee on either side of Hua Cheng’s hips. He goes to hide his face again, but Hua Cheng catches him before he can. He cradles Xie Lian’s face carefully, kissing him once, before pulling back.

“Gege, you’ll hurt your neck.”

“Don’t care,” Xie Lian says. He burrows down deeper with his hips, which makes Hua Cheng grunt. But he refuses to let himself be swayed.

For the sake of Gege’s poor muscles, he tips them over. He squishes Xie Lian’s leg a little as they go, but as soon as they are lying down, he lifts his legs so that they can reshuffle. Gege fits himself neatly in against Hua Cheng’s side, resting his head on Hua Cheng’s bicep.

“There,” Hua Cheng says.

Xie Lian takes advantage of the proximity and kisses him again. He pulls back. “You’re sure you’re okay?”

Hua Cheng nods. “I’m sure.”

Xie Lian looks dubious. “But you were upset earlier? That’s why you stayed out so late?”

Hua Cheng feels his cheeks grow hot. He tries to avoid Xie Lian’s gaze, but this proves incredibly difficult, given how close they are lying. “It’s nothing, Gege. I promise.”

Xie Lian scowls beautifully. “What was it?”

“Nothing.”

Xie Lian bats him on the chest. Is it impossibly gentle but gets his point across. “San Lang! Something upset you. Tell me what it was.”

Hua Cheng can feel that damn blush rising. His cheeks, yes, but now on his neck and his chest and his ears too. He feels too hot.

“It’s silly,” he insists.

Xie Lian doesn’t budge. His gaze is incredibly stern. “Tell me.”

Hua Cheng considers briefly – very briefly – making a run for it. It’d be no use. Gege is wily. He’d catch him in a heartbeat, probably because Hua Cheng can’t stomach the thought of running from him, and then he’d only attack with extra force. Force, here meaning even more relentless kindness and worry. How can Hua Cheng face up to that?

He deflates.

Gege knows he’s won. Hua Cheng can see it in his eyes.

Giving up, giving in, Hua Cheng touches Xie Lian’s chin again. He taps it with his thumb, trying his best to ignore his blush. “Fine. But it really is very silly, Gege. I know that, okay.”

“That’s fine,” Xie Lian says, relaxing a little, dropping his head back down onto Hua Cheng’s arm. “I won’t laugh. I promise.”

Of course, now that he has to actually say it, Hua Cheng finds the words almost impossible. Xie Lian’s face is open and earnest and kind – and all the things that Hua Cheng finds impossible to resist. How can he admit that he upset this perfect man, all for the sake of a sweater?

Hua Cheng looks up at the ceiling. He takes a deep breath. Then he says,

“I don’t—” Nope, he stumbles at the gate. Try again. “I just.” That’s not it either. Goddamnit. “You don’t have to make me a sweater if you don’t want to.”

Xie Lian goes very still.

Hua Cheng panics.

“It’s just – I know you have so many things going on, and I – I don’t want you to stress. And it must be such a big project, and – and I’m not sure – It’s just that I saw the gloves you made for He Xuan and I – I got a little confused, for a bit there, that’s why I needed to just – I just needed to clear my head. You know, I know it doesn’t matter. It’s just a sweater. I told you it was silly. I just—”

Xie Lian covers his face with his hands.

This does not help the panicking situation.

“Gege!” Hua Cheng sits a little straighter, as much as he can with Xie Lian’s weight still resting on him. “Oh, Gege, no, I didn’t mean to upset you. I told you! I told you it was silly, don’t worry about it, please don’t be upset—”

Xie Lian’s eyes are a little watery when he peeks out from behind a finger.

Hua Cheng is definitely, certainly, the worst man in the world.

“Oh, San Lang,” Xie Lian says. “I’m so sorry.”

“No!” Hua Cheng says quickly, so quickly, desperate to make himself clear. “No, there’s nothing you need to apologise for. I shouldn’t have brought it up, I know it’s stupid.”

He is so distracted in trying to undo this blunder of his that, when Xie Lian leaps into movement – when Xie Lian puts a hand square in the middle of Hua Cheng’s chest and pushes, then heaves himself up so he can hold Hua Cheng down against the couch – he is caught completely off guard. He loses his words, gives a little ‘oof!’, and lands heavily back against the couch cushions.

He gazes up, a little winded.

Gege doesn’t look upset. Well, he does. But he doesn’t look sad. He looks dismayed. “You’ve been worrying about this?”

Hua Cheng takes a hold of the wrist holding him down. He soothes his thumb over Xie Lian’s pulse. “I told you, it doesn’t matter, don’t worry about it.”

Gege ducks down, very quickly, and presses a kiss to Hua Cheng’s forehead. Hua Cheng stops talking. Gege kisses him again; on his nose, then his cheek, then lower on his cheek, then on his mouth, then his other cheek. He doesn’t stop, in fact. He presses kisses to every inch of Hua Cheng’s face.

Hua Cheng feels a little dumb.

“Oh, my love. My San Lang.” Xie Lian cradles his face, turning it every which way, giving himself more spots to kiss. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I love you so much.”

What’s happening right now, Hua Cheng thinks.

“What’s happening right now?” Hua Cheng says.

“It’s all my fault,” Xie Lian goes on. He never ceases with his kisses. “I’m so sorry. I must have upset you so much. I didn’t mean to. I love you. There’s a curse.”

Hua Cheng ---

Well.

He.

Hua Cheng has no idea what’s going on.

Slowly, his thoughts fight to figure it out. “A curse?”

Xie Lian hums a nod, still kissing him, as if this is the most reasonable thing to say in the world. “Yes. A sweater curse.”

Is Hua Cheng even awake? He can’t be sure. He’s pretty sure the walk was real. And the bar with He Xuan. He would never dream about that fuck. But the rest? Maybe he passed out in the park from the cold? Maybe he’s lying in the grass right now, hallucinating all of this.

Finally – disappointingly – Gege stops kissing him. He leans back, looking down at Hua Cheng gently, tucking a strand of hair out of his face. “Do you remember when that lady told me I was brave when we bought the wool?”

Hua Cheng thinks very hard. Slowly, he recalls it. “Yes?”

“I asked Luanne about it at work. She said that it’s a thing, it’s called a sweater curse. Basically, whenever you give your partner a sweater you’ve made, it means you’re going to break up.”

Hua Cheng blinks up at Xie Lian.

He’s still stuck on the curse bit.

“I even looked it up, and it’s real! It’s got its own Wikipedia page!” Xie Lian looks truly tormented. “And I really wanted to try and make you a sweater, but I couldn’t risk it! I just couldn’t, San Lang, I love you too much.”

He reaches out, touching Hua Cheng’s face again. His thumb rests on Hua Cheng’s lower lip, pressing lightly there. His cheeks are stained a brilliant pink. He looks so tormented and sad and guilty. Hua Cheng’s brain begins, very slowly, to put the pieces together.

“I’m so sorry, San Lang,” Gege says again. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

As Hua Cheng’s thoughts begin to come back online, he feels his sense return to him. He settles his hands on Xie Lian’s waist. As he processes, he thinks about the most important information first.

“It has its own Wikipedia page?”

Xie Lian lets out a little wail and slumps forward. This time, when he hides his face in the pillows beside Hua Cheng’s head, Hua Cheng lets him. “Don’t tease me, San Lang! This is very serious.”

Hua Cheng drags his hands up, over Xie Lian’s hips, up his back. He holds him tightly, tucking his chin in so he can turn and press his face against the side of Xie Lian’s. “Who’s teasing? I’m very serious. You know I would never joke about Wikipedia.”

Xie Lian whimpers and hits Hua Cheng blindly.

“I know it sounds silly,” Xie Lian mumbles. Hua Cheng strokes the back of his head, smoothing some of his hair down, so he can tuck his nose more thoroughly into the space right behind Xie Lian’s ear. “But Luanne said it happened to her once. And that she knows other people who it’s happened to as well, and I just thought. Well, even if it sounds ridiculous, I couldn’t risk it. Not if it’s you.”

Hua Cheng is overcome.

He can’t help himself. He wraps his arms around Xie Lian, as tightly as is possible, and clutches him close. He can feel how it punches the air out of Xie Lian, who flails a little, but then starts to laugh. Hua Cheng rocks them back and forth for a moment. He presses a hot kiss to Xie Lian’s ear.

“I love you,” Hua Cheng says, right before he begins to laugh as well. “I love you so much.”

Xie Lian struggles free while Hua Cheng laughs. He jabs Hua Cheng in the chest with his pointer fingers, his cheeks flushed and rosy. “You’re still teasing me. Stop it. Be nice.”

Hua Cheng snatches him back up. He kisses him, deeply, breathing him in. Then he drops his head back. “I’m always nice.” To Gege, at least. “I mean it. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

He knew this. Of course, he knew this. But he loves the little moments like this, when he truly remembers the gravity of it, when he has these opportunities to see how lucky he is. It humbles him to his very core.

Gege blushes some more. He avoids Hua Cheng’s eye, looking inordinately pleased. “You always say that.”

Hua Cheng strokes his face again. “Because it’s true.” Then, because it really must be said, he says, “And there’s no such thing as a sweater curse.”

Xie Lian is indignant in an instant. “There is! I told you! It has its own—”

“Yes, yes. The Wikipedia page, you said. Fine. I mean for me. I’d never break up with you over a sweater.” Hua Cheng says it, then immediately frowns, knowing he must amend himself. “I’d never break up with you over anything. Ever.”

Xie Lian huffs out a little breath. He looks a beautiful mixture of annoyed and touched, like he is very pleased but trying very hard not to show it.

“You’re stuck with me,” Hua Cheng promises him. “I’m not going anywhere. Not unless you tell me to.”

Xie Lian turns stern again. He taps Hua Cheng’s nose. “Never.”

Hua Cheng grins up at him. Warmth has spread through every inch of him. He is so in love with this man. “Good,” he says. “Then we’re agreed.”

Xie Lian huffs. He drops himself down onto Hua Cheng again, this time laying his head down right beside Hua Cheng’s, nestling in close. He tucks his hand in around Hua Cheng’s middle, holding him tightly. Then he kisses Hua Cheng’s ear.

He sounds only a little petulant when he hums. “Mhmm. We’re agreed.”

✵

The following morning, when Hua Cheng is brewing them both a cup of coffee, Xie Lian stomps into the living room with his arms full of red wool. When Hua Cheng glances up and catches sight of this, he is met immediately with a vicious glare.

“Not a word,” Gege warns.

Hua Cheng lifts his cup of coffee to his mouth and takes a sip.

Wisely, he says nothing.

✵