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Fact number one about Mu Qing: no matter what anybody else says, Mu Qing does not have a crush on his roommate Feng Xin.
Fact number two: despite Feng Xin’s constant pestering and persuading, Mu Qing will never agree to adopt a cat together.
Fact number three: both of the previous facts are lies.
Mu Qing doesn’t yet know how much his life is about to change when he hears the turn of a key in the door, followed by a string of curses as Feng Xin struggles to unlock it. Mu Qing can’t see him from where he’s sitting on the couch, nestled comfortably under a blanket, but he can imagine Feng Xin is soaked from the heavy rain outside.
Which means… if he asks nicely, maybe Mu Qing will run him a bath. Or make him a cup of hot tea, and then proceed to take care of a sneezing and coughing Feng Xin for the next several days. Fun, he thinks to himself while rolling his eyes. There’s nothing quite like dealing with a sick, whiny roommate.
“Shh! I’m not going to hurt you, just stay calm!” Feng Xin whisper-yells in the hallway, causing Mu Qing to raise an eyebrow curiously. He decides to get up from his comfy spot and check what the hell Feng Xin is up to, and when he’s just around the corner, he hears something that sounds suspiciously like a… meow?
Mu Qing widens his eyes in disbelief the second he walks into the hallway and catches a glimpse of Feng Xin—completely soaked, just as Mu Qing had anticipated. He’s wearing a dark t-shirt that’s clinging to his chest and accentuating his muscles. In any other situation, this would be Mu Qing’s cue to turn around and promptly leave before Feng Xin notices the blush blooming on his cheeks.
This time, however, the shock keeps him paralyzed as he watches an equally wet kitten trying to free itself from Feng Xin’s hold.
Mu Qing thinks he must be dreaming.
“Is that a fucking cat, Feng Xin?” His tone comes out much harsher than he had intended, but really, can he be blamed? Never in a million years did he think Feng Xin would one day bring a cat to their apartment.
Not that Mu Qing has anything against cats. Quite the opposite, actually. Even now he has to stop himself from reaching out and trying to pet the feline.
The cat stirs in Feng Xin’s arms again, looking like it might just attempt to bolt out the door any second. “Shhh, it’s scared!”
What the fuck?
Mu Qing simply raises an eyebrow at him, suddenly unable to find words to express the thousands of thoughts racing through his mind. There is a cat. In Feng Xin’s arms. In their apartment. A living, breathing, tiny (and terrified) kitten.
“I found her… or him… in the bushes outside of the building, and I waited for the mom but she never showed up so… I guess I just decided to take it?” Feng Xin explains, hesitation creeping into his voice like he’s afraid Mu Qing will yell at him for making such a rash decision. A part of him really does want to do it.
“And what are you planning to do with a scared, wet kitten?” he asks instead, crossing his arms over his chest.
Silence fills the air between them.
Mu Qing stares at the cat. The cat stares back at him.
He has to admit it’s… really, really cute. Its fur is mostly black, with a white spot below his chin and white paws. It reminds him of his own hair—he had dyed it silver months ago, then decided the process was too tiresome and expensive and let his natural black hair grow out again until only a few inches of the silver remained.
“We should probably try to dry its fur, then wrap it up in a blanket and give it something to eat,” Feng Xin speaks up at last, finally putting the cat down and letting it explore the new, strange environment.
“Like what, Feng Xin? You’re aware cats can’t eat human food, right?” Mu Qing has once done a lot of research into cat behavior and needs, and perhaps he’ll finally be able to use it.
“We could walk to the pet store and get some necessities.”
“It’s pouring rain, and neither of us have a car,” Mu Qing points out, making sure to let his eyes linger on Feng Xin’s soaked shirt pointedly.
The cat is curiously inspecting every inch of their hallway, drops of water falling down from its fluffy fur onto the floor.
It’s impossible not to scoop it up, wrap his arms around it and protect it from all the dangers of the world. Mu Qing feels like his heart is going to explode.
“You can’t kick it out if it already likes you,” Feng Xin says with a smirk, watching as the cat begins rubbing against Mu Qing’s leg, seemingly asking to be pet. Somehow, for some inexplicable reason, it’s decided that both Feng Xin and Mu Qing are people it wants to get pampered by.
Mu Qing hates that Feng Xin is right.
“You’re aware that having a cat is a huge responsibility, right?” Mu Qing asks, still unsure that keeping the feline is a good idea. Or that Feng Xin can manage to take proper care of it.
“I’m not a child, Mu Qing. I know that, and we’ve spoken about it before” Feng Xin replies, irritated.
“And you’re going to take it to the vet?”
A nod.
“And buy food for it? Trim its nails? Play with it every day?”
Another nod. “We’re both going to be doing all of that,” Feng Xin points out.
Like hell they are.
Taking care of a cat together makes it their shared responsibility; something that keeps them bound to each other, since the cat will (hopefully) grow to love them, and will not like to be separated from either of them. And, honestly, Mu Qing cannot handle that.
He knows very well that this—sharing an apartment with Feng Xin, arguing over minuscule, unimportant things—won’t last forever. One day Feng Xin will come home and announce that he’s moving out with a guy he’s met, or perhaps he’ll finally quit his job like he’s always threatening to and move across the country. Either way, be it in a month or a year, Feng Xin will leave Mu Qing.
The last thing Mu Qing wants is to grow attached to a cat that will leave alongside Feng Xin.
In the past, every time Feng Xin showed Mu Qing pictures of kittens up for adoption or asked him to consider getting at least one, Mu Qing adamantly said no. No, we work too much to take proper care of it. No, the apartment is too small. No, what if I turn out to be allergic?
No, I don’t want you both to leave me.
It also means having to spend more time with Feng Xin, staying in together to watch over the kitten and keep it occupied instead of locking themselves up in their respective rooms or going out in the evenings. And the longer Mu Qing stays by Feng Xin’s side, the more aware he grows of his… feelings. Deep, raw, incomprehensible feelings.
Sometimes he simply wants to reach out and tuck a few stray strands of hair behind Feng Xin’s ear, or wrap his arms around Feng Xin’s waist from behind, or plant a quick kiss to his forehead… and then he remembers none of these things will ever be possible; they’ll never be anything more than Mu Qing’s secret desires, hidden away deep within his own heart.
Mu Qing can’t handle any of this, actually—being a cat owner all of a sudden, along with the person you promised yourself you wouldn’t get used to, and then failed miserably.
“So are you just going to stand there or will you finally help me?” Feng Xin’s slightly annoyed voice pulls Mu Qing out of his spiraling thoughts. He’s holding the kitten in his arms again while simultaneously attempting to turn the bathroom’s light switch on.
Mu Qing lets out a resigned sigh. “You take care of the cat and yourself,” he says, gesturing to Feng Xin’s wet clothes. “And I’ll go to the pet store to get some treats and other necessities.”
Feng Xin’s entire face lights up once he realizes that Mu Qing is, in fact, going to help him and let him keep the cat.
“I thought it was raining too hard to possibly go out?”
Mu Qing rolls his eyes. “Just shut up before I change my mind.”
And that’s how Mu Qing and Feng Xin became cat owners for the first time in their lives.
Over the next few months what once seemed impossible slowly became a certain routine, one that Mu Qing can no longer imagine his days without at some point.
Every single morning without fail the cat—that turned out to be a female—walks into Mu Qing’s room and begins meowing until he gets up and feeds it (only food of the best quality, personally picked out by Mu Qing.) Feng Xin is usually up by then, already working out in the living room or just fresh out of the shower (Mu Qing definitely doesn’t stare at Feng Xin’s chest longer than a roommate should. Definitely not.)
After she gets her food, Void graciously lets Mu Qing get ready for work uninterrupted, save for the occasional meowing and demanding to be pet. Meanwhile Feng Xin makes breakfast for himself, and sometimes he even graciously remembers to take Mu Qing’s overnight oats out of the fridge. They talk about unimportant things while they eat, and more often than not it escalates into arguing by the time they’re finished with their meals.
Every single morning Mu Qing pretends to be annoyed by most things Feng Xin does, and every time it’s a lie; it’s nothing more than an act he puts on to hide what he really thinks. Feng Xin wouldn’t accept that side of him, anyway. And Mu Qing would never allow Feng Xin to see him so vulnerable and open, wrenched apart until there is nothing inside of him but the ugly truth.
Having romantic feelings for his roommate is one of the most embarrassing things Mu Qing has ever experienced. He would rather be flung into lava than admit them out loud.
As far as anyone else is concerned, Mu Qing merely tolerates Feng Xin’s presence. And he definitely doesn’t love Void, even if he’s always feeding her and playing with her. And even if he sometimes catches Feng Xin smiling as he watches Mu Qing take care of the cat he swore he didn’t want.
Everything is going fine between them, more or less. They still argue like they used to; still yell at each other and reply with snide remarks, and everything about it is comfortable and familiar to Mu Qing. It’s a steady ground that he can walk on, and hope it won’t change anytime soon. And, much to Mu Qing’s relief, it really doesn’t change for quite a long time.
That is, until one day Mu Qing wakes up with a pounding headache, one that almost makes him groan in agony as he lays in his bed, unable to get up. His bones ache, and his muscles too—his entire body feels like it’s been set on fire and then smashed against the ground a couple times. Void keeps meowing next to his ear, and for the first time ever Mu Qing cannot find an ounce of energy to get up and feed her. Go bother Feng Xin, he thinks. He’s the one who found you.
Feng Xin walks into his room roughly an hour later with an expression on his face that Mu Qing badly wants to interpret as worried.
“Hey, are you alright? You should be leaving for work already,” Feng Xin asks, and now Mu Qing is absolutely sure he can hear a trace of worry in his tone.
Ah, right—it’s a Monday. But the very last thing Mu Qing is capable of at the moment is working an eight hour long shift. It’ll be a miracle if he even manages to get out of bed at all today.
A part of Mu Qing wants to tell Feng Xin the truth—he feels like shit, he won’t be getting anything done today, and he just wants to be left alone to suffer in peace. Another part wants to lie and say he’s fine, just so that he doesn’t have to appear so vulnerable in front of Feng Xin.
“I think I’ve gotten sick,” he mumbles after what feels like an eternity of awkward silence.
Within seconds Feng Xin is next to his bed, already placing his hand on Mu Qing’s forehead to check his temperature. It takes everything in Mu Qing not to flinch and shy away from the touch.
“Fuck! Your forehead is burning!” Feng Xin all but yells, causing Mu Qing’s face to scrunch up in pain. His voice is too loud, too much; a painful reminder of the headache Mu Qing had woken up with.
“Just leave me alone,” Mu Qing says, turning on his side with his back facing Feng Xin. He just wants to rot in his bed until he feels better, thank you very much.
He half-expects to find Feng Xin gone when he turns around again, but much to his surprise, Feng Xin is still standing there with a puzzled expression on his face. It’s like he’s contemplating whether he should tell Mu Qing to fuck off and take care of his own illness or at least attempt to help him.
Much to Mu Qing’s relief, Feng Xin leaves abruptly, Void following behind. He does not wish to talk to anyone today, especially not Feng Xin. Who knows what he might unwittingly spit out in his delirious state.
Mu Qing is just beginning to doze off again when Feng Xin returns with a wet towel, medicine and a glass of water. Mu Qing’s eyes carefully follow his movements as he sets the glass down and leans over Mu Qing, placing the towel on his burning forehead.
And suddenly he’s five years old again, groaning in pain as his mother sits by his side, holds his hand and sings him lullabies until he finally falls asleep, after hours filled with nothing but fever-induced aches.
For some inexplicable reason, Feng Xin is attempting to take care of him, like he owes it to Mu Qing. You don’t have to do any of this, Mu Qing thinks. He’s only doing it so that he can use this moment of weakness and vulnerability against him later, Mu Qing is sure of it. Feng Xin couldn’t possibly care about his well-being. It’s none of his business if Mu Qing managed to get sick and he’ll now spend a couple days suffering in bed and regretting every decision that had led him to this moment. If anything, the apartment will be quieter without their constant arguing. Calmer. Feng Xin should be happy about this turn of events.
And yet he’s still standing by Mu Qing’s bed, clearly refusing to leave until Mu Qing takes his medicine. His arms are tensely crossed over his chest, face twisted into an expression Mu Qing can’t quite begin to interpret.
Feng Xin is simply making everything worse. Mu Qing’s head hurts ten times worse from the attempt to understand Feng Xin’s actions.
Mu Qing has never really been able to understand why Feng Xin does what he does, and why he makes the decisions he makes, and why he’s still roommates with Mu Qing despite disliking him so fucking much.
“Tell me if you need anything else,” Feng Xin murmurs after a few minutes of tense silence, like he’s afraid the volume of his voice will only aggravate Mu Qing’s headache. Little does he know his very presence is making Mu Qing even sicker than he already is.
He only nods in response, too tired to argue. Screw Feng Xin, and screw whatever he’s trying to achieve by helping Mu Qing right now. He can’t find the energy to keep analyzing Feng Xin’s actions, so he chooses to accept them for the time being.
If Feng Xin wants to help Mu Qing get better, so be it. He should not expect any gratitude, though. It’s not like Mu Qing asked him to do any of this—Feng Xin is just being super annoying about the whole situation, for reasons that are incomprehensible to Mu Qing’s exhausted, delirious self.
The next few days pass in a blur, with Mu Qing slipping in and out of consciousness and only ever leaving his bed to use the bathroom.
Feng Xin calls Mu Qing’s workplace to let them know he’s sick and won’t be able to make it to his shifts this week. Then he calls his own and takes a few days off, as well. Mu Qing hears him through the door, but does not ask about it the next time Feng Xin comes in with Mu Qing’s dose of medicine.
At that point there’s sweat covering almost every inch of his body and the grease in his hair. He must look terribly ugly, he’s sure of it; he hasn’t been able to take a shower in a few days and it does not seem like he’s going to feel well enough to do it anytime soon.
It only makes him feel even more disgusting. He hates being unable to take care of himself. He hates showing his vulnerability in front of other people. Especially Feng Xin.
Feng Xin, who walks into Mu Qing’s room several times a day without knocking like he’s ever been allowed to do it. Who makes sure to feed Mu Qing, and keep him hydrated, and gives him common cold meds. Who does not complain even once while doing all of it. Who makes Mu Qing’s head spin.
Because that’s just a thing that roommates do, right? They help each other out sometimes, even if they loathe each other. It’s simply a nice thing to do, and it doesn’t mean anything more. That’s what Mu Qing keeps telling himself, at least. Feng Xin and himself are nothing like ordinary roommates, though.
For some reason everything about the current situation only makes Mu Qing feel guilty. Feng Xin shouldn’t have to take care of him when Mu Qing is perfectly capable of doing it all by himself. Even when he has a fever. Even when his entire body burns and aches and feels like it’s going to fall apart from the slightest of movements.
But what really scares him is that with every passing day, he gets more and more used to being treated with gentleness by Feng Xin. It’s such a huge contrast to how they normally interact with each other, lacking the usual bitterness and venom behind their words and actions. The only thing they argue about is whether Mu Qing should go to a doctor (“There’s only so much I can do, Mu Qing! Don’t blame me if you end up feeling even worse!).
Feng Xin gives him fresh pajamas and changes his bedsheets when Mu Qing sweats through them. He does not comment on how disheveled Mu Qing looks. He cooks all of Mu Qing’s favorite meals despite hating them.
He’s acting almost like… a friend or a boyfriend, and this thought shakes Mu Qing to his very core. Feng Xin is neither of these things—he’s solely a roommate, one that Mu Qing barely gets along with, and he’s never shown signs of wanting to be anything more. It’s only Mu Qing’s stupid heart that yearns for an unspecified more; it’s not helping that now he can not only imagine, but also experience how caring and thoughtful Feng Xin would be as a boyfriend.
Whoever gets to date him in the future will be a very, very lucky person.
There’s an ever-growing ache in Mu Qing’s chest, and it has nothing to do with the fever.
Void stays by Mu Qing’s side the entire time as well; petting her and listening to her purrs are one of the only things that make Mu Qing feel a bit better. He’s now more grateful than ever that Feng Xin convinced him to keep her, even if he’ll never admit it out loud. Feng Xin doesn’t have to know.
It turns out Mu Qing absolutely hates laying in bed all day and being too tired to do anything at all. He tries reading a book, then puts it down after only a few pages. He replies to Xie Lian’s worried messages and almost immediately gets a headache from staring at his phone screen.
It’s sheer boredom, really, that drives him to the decision to finally take a shower and wash away the grime from his body. It’ll make him feel better, he reasons with himself.
Mu Qing gets up from the bed despite every single part of his body screaming in protest. It doesn’t feel like he has control over his movements as he slowly makes his way to the bathroom, body trembling slightly. His legs feel like jelly, and his head is pounding.
He takes one look at himself in the mirror and regrets it immediately. His skin is as pale as a ghost’s, his hair so disheveled it resembles a bird’s nest, the bags under his eyes huge and dark—he hasn’t been physically able to complete his haircare or skincare routines in days.
Even though Mu Qing is more than aware of what the constant ache and exhaustion are doing to him, he still hadn’t expected to look so… terrible. He’s surprised Feng Xin doesn’t scream out in terror whenever he sees Mu Qing’s face.
He definitely won’t consider dating Mu Qing now that he knows just how unkept and ugly Mu Qing looks when he’s not actively trying to look presentable. But then again, it’s not like Feng Xin would ever want to date Mu Qing in the first place, so perhaps this doesn’t make much of a difference in his attitude after all.
Mu Qing turns on the hot water in the shower in a desperate attempt to push the thoughts away and begins undressing. It takes almost all of his energy to take his hoodie and sweatpants off, and his body trembles even more with the added effort. Mu Qing has gotten sick plenty of times before, but he’s pretty sure it’s never been this bad, not to the point where he can barely take care of himself, where the days pass in a blur full of pain and being fed by Feng Xin every few hours.
It’s truly disappointing how weak he is.
The longer Mu Qing stands up, the more the room spins around him, though he tries his best to ignore it. The lights are too bright, the sound of the water hitting the shower tiles too loud, and yet he knows washing himself is something that has to be done; there’s no way around it. Mu Qing can’t keep allowing Feng Xin to see him like this, when he looks more like a corpse than a living person.
He grips the glass shower door tighter than he should as he steps into the cabin. It helps him keep his balance, if only temporarily. And indeed, it does feel good when the first drops of water hit Mu Qing’s body and wash the sweat away. He exhales with relief, suddenly feeling confident enough to let go of the door and reach for the shower gel—his is cherry scented, while Feng Xin’s smells of chocolate. For some reason, without even thinking about it, Mu Qing opts for the chocolate one.
The room spins even more now, and the constant ache at the back of his head is getting worse as well, but he simply continues to ignore them. He only needs a few more minutes and then he’ll finally be clean after days of rotting in bed, and before he knows it he’ll be healthy again, full of energy and the will to live (and argue with Feng Xin every chance he gets).
The longer Mu Qing spends in the warm shower cabin, the more his breathing quickens and his heart rate speeds up. He really, really doesn’t feel good and it’s really, really annoying the hell out of him. If he can’t even take a simple shower, what is he even good for? It doesn’t matter that he’s extremely sick. This is the least he should be able to do.
He bites down on his lip so hard he draws blood. It begins to trickle down his chin, but he can’t find the energy to wipe it off. The water will do that for him. He just has to… get through the shower routine… and then he can lay down in his bed again and stay there for the rest of the day.
He doesn’t fully register when it happens. One second he’s standing upright, the shower gel bottle still in his hand, and the next he’s collapsing onto the bathroom floor and unable to do anything about it. His body feels like it’s made out of stone, his limbs too heavy to lift. He’s faintly aware of hitting his head against something that immediately results in an eruption of fresh pain. It all happens in a matter of seconds.
The last thing Mu Qing hears before his vision goes black and he loses consciousness is a muffled “Mu Qing?!”
There’s a figure hovering over Mu Qing, blurry at first, but coming into focus more and more with each passing second. He can make out familiar dark strands of hair pulled into a bun and a faint scent of cedarwood.
He’s fairly certain he’s in his bed again, since he can feel a pillow digging into his back. A blanket covers his legs all the way to his hips, though he doesn’t remember pulling it over his body. He had been too hot to need a blanket in the first place.
He had wanted to take a shower, hadn’t he? He’d thought it would make him feel better if the warm water washed away the sweat and grime from the last couple of days. He had seen himself in the mirror, skin as white as a ghost’s and hair disheveled, and it had disgusted him immensely.
But then the exhaustion had gotten the best of him, and before he knew it he was already collapsing; the ground tilted under him until everything became a blur and he fell to the floor with a thud. It’s impossible that Feng Xin hadn’t heard it. In fact, the harder Mu Qing tries to conjure up the last memories from the incident, the clearer he remembers hearing Feng Xin’s voice after collapsing.
How absolutely embarrassing. The last thing Mu Qing’s ever wanted is to have Feng Xin find him passed out on cold bathroom tiles, sweaty and exhausted and naked.
Maybe if he closes his eyes again and tries to fall asleep, all of this will turn out to have only been a bad dream.
“How are you feeling?” Feng Xin asks, his voice uncharacteristically quiet and gentle. It pulls at Mu Qing’s heartstrings in a way that he deeply loathes.
“How do you think I could possibly be feeling, Feng Xin?” he snaps, the sudden annoyance getting the best of him. For some reason, he regrets it immediately.
He hates himself for being unreasonable. He hates Feng Xin for treating him better than he deserves.
Feng Xin pulls away at that, his face twisting into a pained expression. Mu Qing tears his eyes away, unable to look at Feng Xin when he resembles a sad puppy.
Normally he would snap back at Mu Qing immediately. It doesn’t feel right that he’s choosing to remain silent now.
Mu Qing just wants to go to sleep, far away from Feng Xin and his kindness, and wake up when he feels better. More like himself. More prepared to deal with the feelings that are constantly making themselves known in his mind.
His hand reaches up to touch his pounding head and only then does he realize there’s a bandage securely wrapped around it. A surprised gasp escapes his lips.
“You cut your forehead open when you fell,” Feng Xin explains at the sight of Mu Qing’s confusion.
Which means… Feng Xin had bandaged the wound for him? And, Mu Qing realizes with horror, Feng Xin must’ve carried him all the way from the bathroom to his bedroom.
He wishes the ground would swallow him up.
“You didn’t have to—“ Mu Qing begins, embarrassed, but Feng Xin cuts him off before he can finish the sentence.
“Was I supposed to leave you naked and bleeding on the floor?”
Yes, thank you very much, Mu Qing thinks. He can think of at least ten better scenarios than Feng Xin drying his body with a towel, carrying him back to his bed, placing a blanket over him and taking care of his injury.
Maybe he should’ve just moved out when Feng Xin brought Void home and convinced him to keep her.
Mu Qing must have a truly unpleasant expression on his face, because the moment Feng Xin takes a look at him he scoffs, visibly irritated.
He crosses his arms over his chest and takes a few steps in the direction of the door. “Don’t act like you wouldn’t do the same for me. It’s not that big of a deal, you’re just being extra annoying about it.”
Would Mu Qing do the same for Feng Xin? He really isn’t sure. He would probably die from embarrassment first.
With every passing second he wants to scream at Feng Xin to get the fuck out more and more, to finally leave Mu Qing alone with his pain and misery and the unbearable feelings blooming in his chest. Even if he thinks he’s helping Mu Qing, in reality it’s quite the opposite.
Mu Qing doesn’t need to be reminded of the kindness he could experience every day if he were Feng Xin’s lover. If Feng Xin cared about him enough to show him compassion and affection not only when he’s sick, but always.
It’s only making the pain worse, when Mu Qing has been catching himself daydreaming about dating Feng Xin more often than ever before.
“Why are you doing this?” Mu Qing asks in a bitter tone before he can think it through properly.
Feng Xin regards him with an expression Mu Qing doesn’t quite know how to interpret.
“Do you think I enjoy seeing you sick?”
Honestly, yes. It’s always been painfully clear to Mu Qing that Feng Xin does not like him and does not care about his well-being. Until now.
Still, the question makes his eyes widen, and for a few seconds he has no idea how to reply.
Everything between them used to be simple. It should’ve stayed simple.
Perhaps then Mu Qing wouldn’t feel this overwhelming guilt mixed with desire whenever he looks at Feng Xin. He craves Feng Xin’s affection with every fiber of his being, and yet he knows he would never be able to satisfy Feng Xin’s own cravings; he knows that they aren’t meant to be, that a romantic relationship between them has no chance of working out. They barely get along as roommates.
And he knows he will never admit to these thoughts and feelings out loud, no matter what Feng Xin says or how nice he acts while Mu Qing is sick. He knows better than this—Feng Xin will go right back to his usual annoying self the moment Mu Qing stops acting like he’s on his deathbed, and then they’ll be back to square one.
“You’re kind of doing a shit job if you’re trying to make me feel better,” Mu Qing retorts at last, venom dripping from his voice.
Feng Xin’s hands curl into fists. “I’m trying, okay?! It’s not easy when you’ve been refusing to see a doctor.”
Mu Qing rolls his eyes. He really, really doesn’t have the energy for this conversation. “It’s none of your business if I’m sick,” he says, and he means it.
Feng Xin shouldn’t even care in the first place. Mu Qing never asked him to, even if very deep inside, he does want to be cared about. He just… doesn’t think it could ever last, or that he could ever get used to it.
“We’re roommates, Mu Qing. If you needed help with taking a shower, you could’ve just said so,” Feng Xin says slowly, like he’s mulling the words over before he decides to say them out loud.
Right. Like any sane part of Mu Qing would ever ask Feng Xin for help.
He scoffs, tearing his eyes away from Feng Xin’s face. “You don’t have to worry about me, I’m already feeling better.”
They both know it’s a blatant lie, but Mu Qing is willing to spit out just about anything to make Feng Xin leave.
Feng Xin is silent for a moment, presumably staring at Mu Qing and trying his best not to start screaming at him. Mu Qing wishes he would.
Feng Xin only breaks the awkward silence between them after a few minutes that stretch out into an eternity. “I was making soup, if you want some.”
His voice sounds… unsure. Hesitant. Like he’s afraid to say the wrong thing and upset Mu Qing even more. And really, everything would be so much easier if Feng Xin just left him alone.
Even after asking, Mu Qing still doesn’t understand why Feng Xin is so adamant about taking care of him. He never got a precise answer, after all. Just the world-shattering revelation that Feng Xin apparently doesn’t like to see him sick. And that he believes if the roles were reversed, Mu Qing would also be… worried about him.
“Sure. Whatever,” he replies, his voice hoarse. Feng Xin’s face seems to light up slightly at that, but perhaps it’s just Mu Qing’s imagination playing tricks on him.
Feng Xin leaves the room to finish preparing the soup, and Mu Qing finally lets out a deep breath he didn’t realize he had been holding. A single semi-honest conversation with Feng Xin managed to tire him out more than days spent being sick.
His peace doesn’t last very long, though, because Feng Xin soon comes back with a bowl of steaming hot soup in his hands. He sets it carefully on Mu Qing’s bedside table, making sure not to burn either of them in the process. Mu Qing has to admit—albeit reluctantly—that the food smells absolutely delicious.
Feng Xin has always been the better cook between the two of them.
Mu Qing expects him to leave again, but much to his surprise, Feng Xin slowly sits down on the edge of Mu Qing’s bed.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Mu Qing hisses, immediately recoiling as far away from Feng Xin as possible.
He pretends not to see the hurt that crosses over Feng Xin’s face.
“I thought I could help you eat…” he cuts himself off, embarrassed. “Since… you’re really weak right now, and I don’t want you spilling the soup all over yourself and wasting the ingredients.”
Does Feng Xin think Mu Qing is incapable of feeding himself? Is he going to hold the shower incident over his head forever?
Admittedly, the harder Feng Xin tries to be nice and considerate, the more Mu Qing starts to… enjoy it. Perhaps it isn’t that bad to have Feng Xin take care of him, if only this once. Especially when Feng Xin is now sitting mere inches away from him, his warm hand resting on Mu Qing’s covers.
For a second Mu Qing wants nothing more than to take that hand in his own, just to know what it would feel like to intertwine their fingers. He pushes the thought away before he can act on it, though.
“Can I at least get dressed first?” he asks instead.
Feng Xin’s cheeks blush slightly at the realization that Mu Qing is still naked from the shower, save for the blanket draped over his body.
Mu Qing thanks the Heavens that Feng Xin didn’t attempt to dress him by himself—being seen naked and carried already humiliated him enough.
Feng Xin gets up from the bed and walks up to Mu Qing’s closet, beginning to browse through the clothes until he finds a set of pajamas with a cat print on it. He lets out a small huff of laughter at the sight, then tosses the set to Mu Qing.
It’s Mu Qing’s favorite pajama set that he owns, actually. He’s just always been too embarrassed to wear it around Feng Xin.
He puts it on as quickly as possible without making himself dizzy again while Feng Xin waits with his back facing Mu Qing, suddenly very intrigued by the view outside the window. He only turns around while Mu Qing announces he’s done, and a small smile tugs at his lips when his eyes land on the cat print again.
Mu Qing tries his best not to blush and fails miserably. He can feel his face burning, cheeks turning redder by the second as Feng Xin makes his way towards the bed and sits down again. If he notices, he does not comment on it, and Mu Qing is grateful for that.
Maybe if he convinces himself there is nothing weird about his roommate feeding him, the flush of his face and the slight trembling of his body will eventually go away.
Feng Xin reaches for the bowl and spoon, then scoots even closer to Mu Qing so that the soup doesn’t drip onto the bed sheets. His thigh is touching Mu Qing’s now, and Mu Qing feels completely fine and normal about that. Obviously.
He has to admit the food is delicious. It’s the best thing he’s eaten in a long time, even if Feng Xin has been preparing food for him ever since he found out about Mu Qing’s sickness.
Void joins them at some point too, and she sits at the end of the bed, looking curiously at the sight in front of her. She looks like she’s judging them, and Mu Qing can’t even blame her for that. He’s also wondering why he hasn’t pushed Feng Xin away yet—though in reality he already knows the answer and simply refuses to accept it.
Mu Qing takes the bowl in his own hands in the end, feeling like his heart might just burst out of his chest if Feng Xin keeps feeding him. For some reason, Feng Xin does not move away even when he has no reason to sit close to Mu Qing anymore. He simply stares for a few seconds as Mu Qing eats, then shifts his attention to Void and begins petting her. She starts purring, clearly relishing the attention she’s getting.
Mu Qing feels a weird pang of jealousy caused by the shift of Feng Xin’s attention to the cat. It’s just a cat, he reminds himself. The sickness must really be getting to him if he’s starting to feel jealous over an animal.
Void’s eyes close slowly as Feng Xin continues to pet her, and Mu Qing almost forgets about the soup bowl in his lap, too focused on watching Feng Xin’s every movement. The way he calmly pets the cat, then stops for a few seconds to tuck a few hair strands that have fallen out of his bun behind his ears. The smile on his face as he looks at the now sleeping cat.
In that moment, Mu Qing knows he never could’ve said “no” to adopting the cat Feng Xin had brought home.
How could he ever live without moments like these? Even if nothing lasts forever, and all of this is only temporary—living in the same apartment, being taken care of, being cared about. Still, Mu Qing is grateful, and it makes his breath catch in his throat.
He’s so grateful to have met Feng Xin, even if his feelings cause him so much pain on a daily basis; even if Feng Xin is simultaneously the most infuriating person Mu Qing has ever met.
Feng Xin’s eyes suddenly dart to Mu Qing again, and for some reason his whole facial expression changes.
“Mu Qing! The soup—“
Within a mere second Feng Xin’s hands are touching Mu Qing’s lap, taking the bowl away from him and reaching out for a few tissues from the bedside table.
Startled, Mu Qing looks down and realizes there’s a soggy patch on his cat pajamas. He must’ve let the soup bowl tilt enough for it to spill as he was watching Feng Xin, completely entranced.
Great, he thinks. Now Feng Xin is only going to reinforce the idea that Mu Qing is too sick to take basic care of himself.
The truth is that Mu Qing is too in love to exist in the same spaces as Feng Xin. Being this close to Feng Xin for prolonged periods of time isn’t good for his physical or mental well-being.
“Sorry,” he mutters. “I didn’t realize it was spilling.”
He half-expects Feng Xin to make fun of him, to tell Mu Qing how stupid he looks with soup leftovers on his legs. But, strangely, his lips only press into a thin line as he dabs the liquid away with the tissues. It’s almost like… he’s rather concerned about Mu Qing’s state, especially after a few days of persistent sickness. He looks worried, and it makes Mu Qing feel extremely guilty.
Feng Xin shouldn’t have to do any of this. Mu Qing really meant it when he had said Feng Xin shouldn’t worry about him. He can fully treat his illness until he’s healthy again, even if it takes him weeks at this rate.
“Maybe you should just go to sleep,” Feng Xin says once he’s finished cleaning up the soup from Mu Qing’s lap. There’s not much left in the bowl at this point, and he does not ask if Mu Qing wants any of it.
He must think the only thing Mu Qing is good for is sleeping.
He gets up slowly, evidently taking the lack of response as a sign to leave the room. It’s what Mu Qing has wanted him to do the entire time, but now that he’s really about to leave him alone, Mu Qing feels almost sad. He realizes, with a start, that he doesn’t want Feng Xin to go.
Instead, he wants to be… held. Comforted. Protected. And it’s such a shameful desire that it causes Mu Qing to squeeze his eyes shut like he’s in pain.
“Could you…” he spits out before Feng Xin touches the doorknob, and hates himself for it instantly, but it’s too late to turn back now. “Stay?” he finishes, fully aware of how his face is heating up again.
Feng Xin turns around and stares at him like he’s just seen a ghost.
“You want me to stay?” he asks, as if to confirm that his mind isn’t playing tricks on him.
He’s definitely going to hate Mu Qing now. He mentally congratulates himself for having just ruined everything good between them with his stupid question.
Still, Mu Qing nods before letting his eyes drift downwards. He simply can’t bring himself to look at whatever expression Feng Xin has on his face right now. Hatred, disdain, confusion—whatever it is, Mu Qing can’t handle it.
Tears well up in his eyes almost instantly, and it makes him feel even worse. He refuses to cry in front of Feng Xin, no matter how many other embarrassing things he’s already done over the span of a few days. He rubs at his eyes aggressively, hoping the tears will go away before Feng Xin has a chance to see them. He would never let Mu Qing live this down otherwise.
Suddenly, he feels warm hands touching his own, pulling them away from his face. He blinks in surprise; he hadn’t even registered Feng Xin moving from his spot by the door, let alone sitting down on Mu Qing’s bed again. And yet here he is, sitting directly in front of Mu Qing and gently holding his arms.
His vision blurs. He desperately tries to blink back the hot tears—an action that’s almost entirely successful. Feng Xin uses his thumb to wipe a stray tear away, causing Mu Qing’s heart to skip a beat.
He feels like he’s going to choke and collapse and fucking drown in the sheer intensity of the feelings he’s experiencing. Shame rushes through him like a tidal wave, washing away the faint happiness he’s feeling.
How pitiful, asking Feng Xin to stay with him for a little longer. What is Feng Xin even supposed to do right now? What does Mu Qing want him to do? Several things that would never cross Feng Xin’s mind and that would make Mu Qing’s face burn in shame even more if they did.
“Are you okay?” Feng Xin asks, and it feels like a punch.
No, Mu Qing isn’t okay; he hasn’t been okay in a very long time. Not since he realized the true nature of his attraction to Feng Xin, and all the ways in which it could alter their relationship.
“I’m fine,” he replies, his voice hoarse. Another lie. It seems he cannot stop lying when Feng Xin is being so considerate, so kind. He does not think he deserves any of it.
By the look on Feng Xin’s face, Mu Qing can tell he sees right through the lie. He says nothing, though, instead choosing to carefully place his hand on Mu Qing’s back and begin slowly drawing patterns there to help him relax.
Mu Qing feels like his heart is going to burst out of his chest and run right out the room.
“You’re being so annoying about all of this,” Feng Xin says suddenly. Mu Qing opens his mouth to argue, but Feng Xin shushes him.
“Let me finish. You claim you’re feeling fine, though you’re clearly not. You get angry at me for trying to help you, and then you ask me to stay with you. What is it that you want, Mu Qing?”
His honey-gold eyes meet Mu Qing’s own, and it takes everything in Mu Qing not to look away.
He hates how well Feng Xin always manages to analyze his behavior, how he’s somehow able to read Mu Qing like an open book. It feels like he’s being stripped of his safety blanket, of everything he knows and is comfortable with; everything he can control and hide his true emotions behind. And then there’s nothing left but the bare, ugly truth, too shameful for Mu Qing to ever admit it out loud.
The only thing he knows for sure is that he cannot be talking about his feelings right now, not in this state. “We can talk about it once I’m not sick anymore. I just want to sleep now.”
Feng Xin furrows his brows, but doesn’t stop drawing patterns on Mu Qing’s back. Somehow it really is a relaxing gesture, one that slowly makes Mu Qing’s body melt against Feng Xin’s warmth.
“And you would like me to stay with you while you sleep?” he asks incredulously.
It really sounds worse than it is. Mu Qing can’t tell what Feng Xin might be imagining at the moment.
Mu Qing swallows the lump that’s formed in his throat, and tries not to let it show how nervous he is. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. Forget I ever asked.”
Feng Xin pulls Mu Qing closer, until their chests are pressed together. It makes Mu Qing’s breath stop in his throat. “I didn’t say I didn’t want to.”
And what the fuck is that even supposed to mean? How is Mu Qing supposed to interpret that, and not go absolutely insane over it? Once again, Feng Xin is making him feel even worse and sicker than he already does—a true talent of his, it seems.
Whatever. Mu Qing is too tired to think about all the different possibilities and motives behind Feng Xin’s behavior. He cannot understand why Feng Xin does the things he does, no matter how hard he tries—it’s simply impossible.
He chooses to let Feng Xin hold him for as long as he wants to, albeit not without doubts. He does not know what any of this really means, and why Feng Xin has agreed to do it.
Making dinner for Mu Qing and giving him medicine is one thing, but… this is something different entirely. Openly showing affection, touching each other and hugging—none of this has ever happened between them before. It’s strange, and it’s foreign, and Mu Qing cannot do anything but accept it.
Feng Xin moves them so that their heads are resting on the pillows, then pulls the blanket over both of their bodies.
They’re laying so close that Mu Qing can almost discern the steady rhythm of Feng Xin’s heart. He hopes Feng Xin can’t tell how fast his own is beating.
“Sleep,” Feng Xin whispers before touching his lips to the top of Mu Qing’s head.
Does he really think Mu Qing is capable of sleeping when, for the first time ever, he’s being held by the person he (regretfully) loves? He doesn’t think he can do so much as close his eyes, not when Feng Xin is laying right next to him and looking right back at him.
“You’re going to get sick if you stay close to me,” Mu Qing reminds, though it’s far too late for that now. The same thought seems to cross Feng Xin’s mind, because he simply shrugs before replying with an “I don’t care.”
It bothers Mu Qing that he’s apparently more important to Feng Xin than his own well-being.
Exhaustion has been a constant in his life for the past few days, but now that he’s finally allowed to sleep after the unnerving encounter with Feng Xin, he can’t force his body to relax and let him rest. He’s still trembling slightly from the shock of being held by Feng Xin, and he wonders if Feng Xin can feel it, too. He hopes it’ll be attributed to his illness, rather than the whirlpool of emotions in his chest.
It takes a while for Mu Qing to finally relax a little bit; it’s not an easy task whatsoever, especially not when Feng Xin is still petting him soothingly, gently, hoping it’ll help Mu Qing fall asleep. It slowly eases the tension out of his body and calms down the frantic beating of his heart.
He’s afraid to wake up in a few hours and realize all of this had been only a dream.
Now that he finally has what he’s been craving for for months—Feng Xin’s undivided attention and affection—he really, really wants it to last. A single afternoon of this is simply not enough. Mu Qing wants so much more , and it scares him beyond belief. He doesn’t know how to ask for it. He doesn’t think he’s allowed to.
He lets his eyes droop shut eventually, relishing the warmth of Feng Xin’s body pressed against his. He takes a deep breath, just to take in the smell of Feng Xin’s cologne—a mix of cedarwood and something Mu Qing can’t quite recognize. He’ll ask Feng Xin about it later, if he has enough courage.
Mu Qing wouldn’t really mind if this moment were to last forever, stretched out into infinity; just himself, Feng Xin and Void laying in the bed all comfortable, warm and cuddled up. There’s still a ton of unsaid words and questions left between them, but perhaps they can wait, at least until the next morning. Until Mu Qing is brave enough to act on his feelings and hope they won’t scare Feng Xin away.
But for now, he hides his face in the crook of Feng Xin’s neck and allows himself to finally fall asleep. He can only hope Feng Xin will still be there when Mu Qing wakes up.
Mu Qing doesn’t know how many hours have passed when he’s abruptly woken up by the irresistible urge to sneeze, as well as the feeling of something fluffy tickling his nose. His eyes snap open, and the first thing he sees is Void’s black fur blocking his field of vision.
Having a cat sit on his face is not on the list of things Mu Qing enjoys.
What he does enjoy, however, is the feeling of Feng Xin’s strong arms still wrapped around his body, holding him close and refusing to let go. It’s exactly what he had been craving for months—affection, comfort and protection. Mu Qing never really thought he would one day be able to experience these things, especially from Feng Xin out of all people.
Feng Xin seems to have already woken up some time ago, because his eyes meet Mu Qing’s the moment Mu Qing looks at him. His heart rate picks up again.
“How are you feeling?” Feng Xin asks, for what is probably the thousandth time this week.
“Better,” Mu Qing replies, and for the first time, he actually means it. He isn’t fully cured yet, but he no longer feels like he’s going to collapse and die if he gets up from the bed for more than ten minutes at a time. His appetite appears to be back as well, because he’s suddenly craving more of the soup Feng Xin had prepared for him earlier.
And more than anything, he wants Feng Xin to keep hugging him and never let go. He wants to feel Feng Xin’s lips on his hair again, wants Feng Xin’s honey gold eyes to be focused on him and him only.
“So what you’re saying is my hugs help more than the meds?”
Mu Qing’s cheeks instantly go bright red. “Don’t think so highly of yourself,” he mutters. “I bet you were just giving me the wrong meds the entire time.”
Feng Xin laughs softly. “Fuck, you caught me! I obviously wanted you to stay sick forever so you could never go to work again and I’d have to pay our full rent!”
If Feng Xin had told him the same thing a mere few days ago, Mu Qing would have genuinely believed him.
They stay silent for a while after that, but it’s not the type of awkward silence that often used to permeate the air between them. For once, Mu Qing doesn’t feel the need to spit out harsh remarks, to use snide words as a cover up for his feelings.
He lets Feng Xin slowly trace the line of his spine, his touch almost as hot as an iron on Mu Qing’s skin. The fever he had come down with cannot possibly compare.
His body betrays itself under Feng Xin’s touch. He could pull away at any moment—push Feng Xin off, yell at him and storm out of the room—and yet he’s frozen, electric shock surging underneath his skin with every movement of Feng Xin’s fingertips. Much to his own horror, Mu Qing distantly realizes he doesn’t want to interrupt this. Perhaps he’s even… allowing himself to enjoy this.
None of it makes sense to him even as Feng Xin presses a tentative kiss to Mu Qing’s jawline. Mu Qing instantly freezes, his eyes going wide with shock.
Feng Xin stops the moment Mu Qing’s body tenses, and he looks up at Mu Qing questioningly as if to ask “are you okay with this?”
The fact that Mu Qing is still laying there and letting Feng Xin touch him is enough of an answer. He scoots even closer to Feng Xin anyway, just to show that he is, indeed, very okay with this.
Satisfied, Feng Xin proceeds to leave a trail of feather-light kisses down Mu Qing’s neck, stopping at the hem of his pajama top. He still seems unsure, like he’s afraid Mu Qing will run away if he goes too far and accidentally crosses an unspoken line.
Mu Qing isn’t even capable of running away in the first place, though, not in his sick state. Besides, he selfishly doesn’t want to run away.
He thinks he must still be dreaming—what Feng Xin is doing is nothing more than a part of a fever-induced dream, a shameful fantasy that makes Mu Qing’s skin prickle. There is simply no way that Feng Xin is kissing him right now.
It’s all wrong, and yet it feels so right. But Mu Qing knows that Feng Xin deserves better than this, that he deserves a partner who isn’t afraid to reciprocate the affection he’s given. Feng Xin would never want him, not when the sole possibility of admitting his desires paralyzes him with fear.
Even if this is all a dream, Feng Xin still deserves better.
His body seems to move on its own while Mu Qing’s mind is caught up in the raging storm of his own feelings; his hand moves to rest on the small of Feng Xin’s back, eliciting a small gasp from Feng Xin. It seems he had not been expecting Mu Qing to touch him at all, to do so much as show that he wants Feng Xin.
He wants Feng Xin’s attention so much it scares him.
Does Feng Xin crave this intimacy between them, the same way Mu Qing does? Are his actions enough to prove that? And, most importantly, can Mu Qing allow himself to trust that all of this will last longer than a day?
The longer Feng Xin touches him, the more irresistible the desire in Mu Qing’s heart becomes. Maybe coming down with a fever isn’t so bad if it means you can be hugged and kissed by your roommate, who you definitely don’t have romantic feelings for.
Well, that’s a lie. Mu Qing has so many feelings for Feng Xin that he doesn’t quite know how to admit or articulate—he may never tell Feng Xin what’s closer to the truth, hatred or love.
He isn’t ready to speak about these feelings yet, though. It’s too early to tell Feng Xin what he really feels, even if it’s been slowly killing him for the past several months. It’s a raw, ugly, terrible and shameful truth, and Mu Qing must be absolutely sure Feng Xin likes him back before he admits to having a crush.
Feng Xin liking him is a concept so unbelievable it almost makes Mu Qing want to laugh. Who is he to think he deserves Feng Xin’s affection? Who is he to demand Feng Xin show him how he feels?
He would feel like the luckiest person alive if Feng Xin yearned for him the way Mu Qing yearns for Feng Xin.
And perhaps he’s becoming delusional, but for the first time he feels like maybe, just maybe, there is a small possibility that Feng Xin reciprocates his feelings. Otherwise, why would he be kissing Mu Qing?
“Is this all a dream?” Mu Qing whispers and regrets asking the question as soon as it leaves his mouth.
Feng Xin smiles fondly. It’s the most beautiful sight Mu Qing has ever seen. “You’re not sick enough to be hallucinating, idiot.”
Mu Qing isn’t so sure about that. He’s still more willing to believe that he’s inside of a very realistic dream, rather than a part of reality itself.
“So… you’re going to stay?” he asks incredulously, and he doesn’t just mean Feng Xin staying with him right now, for a few more minutes (or hours).
What he means is that he wants Feng Xin to stay in his life, to remain an inseparable part of it.
“As long as you let me,” Feng Xin replies, and no matter how hard he tries, Mu Qing cannot find a trace of dishonesty in his voice.
Void enters the room, meowing and obviously asking for their attention. Feng Xin looks at Mu Qing hesitantly, but Mu Qing simply nods and untangles their limbs, then moves away a little to let Feng Xin get up from the bed.
Feng Xin leaves with Void trailing behind. Mu Qing closes his eyes and listens to the sounds of a food can being opened in the kitchen, followed by Feng Xin telling Void to get off the counter.
Mu Qing’s lips quirk up into a smile.
He remembers agreeing to adopt Void despite being absolutely terrified that one day Feng Xin would get tired of Mu Qing and leave him behind, taking the cat with him. That future doesn’t seem as likely anymore, though. Perhaps Feng Xin isn’t going to leave.
Perhaps he’s really going to stay in his life as long as Mu Qing lets him.