#heixie hunter roadtrip au

[difeisheng]

i.

It's only on the third day of passing neverending yellow-green fields wavering in summer heat, windows down in this pickup truck that must be decades old with its glossy paint and chrome and proud growl of an engine, that Wu Xie finally asks Hei Xiazi where they're going.

"There's a map in the glove compartment," Hei Xiazi says, tapping cigarette ash out into the wind, other hand on the steering wheel. "You said your English is good, right? Read it and find the towns we've been through."

Wu Xie fishes out the map, tattered and deeply creased, apparently kept without use. A pen is always with him; he circles each town or city whose name he recognizes, memorized from the flickering signs of motels or general stores they've stopped at, or welcoming boards along the highways that are probably intended to be cheerful but only bear worn-down facades of optimism in their neglect. Analysis kicks in next, attempting to piece together the logic from the locations he's marked. The pattern he finds is—

"There is no pattern." Wu Xie looks up. "We drove east after going south, but you're just stopping in random places."

"Congratulations, you get a prize," Hei Xiazi says, semi-deadpan, hair flown loose from its knot whipping into his face. "Can't have your future actions be predicted if you don't know what they are, either."

"But that means you don't know when we're going to stop," Wu Xie says. The wind bites at him all of a sudden, despite the temperature outside. He pulls his flannel more closely around himself.

Hei Xiazi, still wearing only a tank top, tan lines at his wrists fading out of contrast, shakes his head. "Keep moving and we'll figure out the rest later. We don't know how far behind they are."

"Do we really have to be this paranoid?"

"You haven't even been able to see your enemy, or what it is. Do you want the monsters to catch up to you, or would you rather be safe than sorry?" Hei Xiazi flicks his cigarette butt out the window.

Wu Xie thinks of the shadows, the closest way he can describe them, that he'd seen on the last night in his own home, and shuts his mouth. He settles instead for noisily stuffing the map back into the glove compartment.

"So if there's no end to this, why would you help me?" Hei Xiazi, as far as Wu Xie has gathered, is a man who's lived from job to job, whatever's in between not enough to keep him still. "I don't even know when I'll be able to pay you, if that's what you want." The money on his cards has been going toward gasoline, food, the motels they can find that are cheap but clean and won't care about faces or what's left of Wu Xie's accent before the fact that he can pay.

Hei Xiazi snorts. "You didn't think about this earlier?"

"I wasn't in the mood to be asking questions." And Hei Xiazi had told him not to, anyway, those few nights ago when Wu Xie woke up to half of his house in flames and something at his door, swallowing the light, and in the smoke had appeared Hei Xiazi, duffle bag in one hand and the other grabbing at Wu Xie's wrist, ordering him to run.

He'd bit his tongue, one of the rare occasions where fear had well and truly drowned his curiosity, and followed. From foot, to car, to across a border, and now to this truck.

Hei Xiazi reaches for the box of cigarettes in the cupholder. "Light me another one, will you?"

Wu Xie grabs the lighter from the inner pocket of Hei Xiazi's leather jacket, fallen to the floor, and touches it to a fresh cigarette. "You didn't answer my question."

Hei Xiazi just sighs, blowing thin smoke out and away, so Wu Xie continues: "You're just a work friend of my uncle's and you barely know me. Why would you care this much about saving me?"

"Know you?" Hei Xiazi leans back and laughs, softly, dog tags clinking against his chest. "Maybe I don't really know you, but I know about you. I know you're naive, and you've never had to pay the price for learning too much. I know you looked into secrets about your uncle's work that you shouldn't have. I know you still don't understand what you saw and you're desperate to find out, but you dread looking back. And most of all, I know you don't want to die. Is that enough?"

He glances at Wu Xie. "You don't want to die, do you, Xiao-sanye? Tell me now, because it'll save me a lot of trouble if this isn't something you want to fight for."

"I-" Wu Xie stares at him. "No, I don't want to die," he says, quietly.

"Good." Hei Xiazi jabs at the volume dial on the dash. Rock music blares out from the speakers, from whichever cassette was left in there from the box of tapes in the backseat. "Glad we're clear on that. Communication is key."

"For the third fucking time, why are you helping me?" Wu Xie reaches for the dial, turns the music off again, glares. This time Hei Xiazi doesn't react, staring ahead at the road, lined pavement flying past in the lenses of his sunglasses.

"If I said it was boredom, would you believe me?" he says, after a minute.

In this moment maybe Wu Xie almost could, listening to the level current of Hei Xiazi's voice. How old is he? If he were a stranger Wu Xie would place him in his mid-thirties, perhaps, but the impression of a man in black and sunglasses smeared across the borders of his memory reaches too far back for Hei Xiazi to be exactly as old as he looks.

At what age can you possibly begin to treat running for your life like this with indifference? With amusement? Wu Xie is twenty-six, and the world is huge. The world is mysterious. The world is fracturing and he's trying not to cut himself on the shards.

"No," he tells Hei Xiazi. "it can't just be boredom. But it's not money, either."

The corner of Hei Xiazi's mouth tilts upwards.

"You're smart." He pauses to take a drag from the cigarette. "Believe what I said anyway. You're better off like that."

"What's that supposed to me—" Wu Xie starts, before Hei Xiazi cuts him off, waving a hand dismissively.

"Believe that, or make up your own reasoning because I know you'll die without it. Either one will do." He adjusts his sunglasses in the rearview mirror. "But what matters, for you, is that you trust me to keep you alive regardless. Trust me completely, or else I won't be able to. Can you do that, Xiao-sanye?"

The evening Hei Xiazi tossed their bags into this truck, retrieved from a seemingly innocuous lot in an industrial suburb, Wu Xie caught a glimpse of the box concealed beneath the panels of the bed. If Hei Xiazi wanted him dead, he'd have had the tools and chances to do it at least several times over already.

Wu Xie nods.

Hei Xiazi smiles, wide enough to catch a glimpse of a crooked tooth, and turns the music on once more.

The road rambles on.

#hi everyone i don't know what's going on #making it up as i go! #this is not supposed to be a supernatural au but i guess. it is not entirely Not a supernatural au god help me #dmbj #heixie #wu xie #hei xiazi #hei yanjing #ashton writes fic #heixie hunter roadtrip au