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eirenical · 4 years

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This is the opening scene to what will someday be a much longer story, but I think it can stand on its own, as it is, so I thought I’d post it as a teaser. ^_^ It will ultimately be a fix-it for canon that ends in our main love triangle becoming a threesome (because I can’t resist an OT3... ;D), but for now is... mainly Luo Fusheng getting himself in far too deep and then realizing what a terrible position he’s put himself in.

...enjoy? ^_^

Convenience | Granting You a Dreamlike Life

Luo Fusheng x Xu Xingcheng | Rating: M

Missing scene for episode 3--the night before the morning after.

In Europe… at school… many of my friends had such arrangements of… convenience. I always thought… how lucky they were to have that. And now I have that, too! How lucky am I?

Luo Fusheng lay awake for some time after Xingcheng had finally fallen asleep, those words echoing in his ears. He’d thought— It didn’t matter what he’d thought. He’d been wrong. He’d been on one page, and Xingcheng had been on another, and that was the only thing that mattered. Xingcheng’s wandering hands, the dumpling, the way he’d rushed back to the theatre, all but falling over himself to make sure Fusheng wasn’t injured… the way he’d leaned so earnestly against him, pressing Fusheng into the door of his bedroom the second it was closed behind them, mouth opening hot and eager against his… none of it had meant what Fusheng thought it meant.

Convenience.

And when Xingcheng had pushed him across the room to the bed, backing him up with insistent kisses and hands that couldn’t strip the wet clothes from him quickly enough… that hadn’t meant what Fusheng thought it meant either. And when they were both naked, Xingcheng holding Fusheng's wrists tightly over his head as he moved between his legs, sucking marks into every piece of exposed skin he could reach, branding him with bruises of Xingcheng’s own making to mask the ones Fusheng had earned fighting Hu Qi's gang earlier… that hadn’t been what Fusheng thought it was, either.

Possession.

Fusheng eased out of bed and padded across the room to the mirror. The kiss bruises that Xingcheng had left behind stood out in livid color against the larger, duller bruises from earlier. They littered his torso, his collarbones, his neck, raw like open wounds. He imagined he could still feel Xingcheng’s teeth in some of them.

Not love.

Xingcheng’s fingers had left their own marks—bracelets of bruises around his wrists like fine jewelry… the only type of gift a convenience deserved. Fusheng pressed the heels of his hands hard into his eyes. He could do this. He could adjust his expectations. His expectations hadn’t been realistic to begin with. Xingcheng was going to marry Lan Lan. They all knew it. It had been planned since they were children. Xingcheng wasn’t his to keep, had never been his to keep. Not like this. Fusheng should be grateful to have even this much. He should. It was selfishness of the highest order to want more, to yearn for something that was not his, that could never be his… that Xingcheng didn’t even want to give him.

Love…

It was safer, by far, to be a convenience.

To be a friend.

He could do that.

Fusheng reached into his chest of drawers and pulled on his softest set of silk pajamas, hiding that night’s memory away along with the sight of each and every one of those bruises. Pulling out another set of pajama pants and a tee-shirt—Xingcheng never had been able to sleep with his arms covered—he moved to the bed to dress his friend, his brother. How many times had he done this? Helped Xingcheng out of his clothes and into sleepwear when Xingcheng was too drunk to do it himself, or already sleeping? Too many times over the years; so many times that they’d all blurred together.

Memories did that… blurred together.

So many drunken nights, so many nights when Xingcheng had fled his cold, silent home seeking comfort—in drink, in song, in Fusheng’s company—and Fusheng had given him everything he needed, everything he asked for. Always. No hesitation. Fusheng had kissed him, petted him, soothed him, swallowed him down like a personal benediction… but they’d been young, then, not even properly men. It had been fun and games, then. Young men trying to be adults, to take adult comforts from each other, when they were anything but.

It was different now.

Fusheng slipped back into bed, gaze sliding around the room, cataloging the damage from the evening, the things he would have to clean up come morning, before he had to explain it all to Luo Cheng… or worse, Shuang-jie. No. No, he couldn’t risk that. Shuang-jie would see the bruises, no matter how he tried to hide them. She would ask, and she would scold, and the word ‘convenience’ would slip off his tongue and shatter on the floor for him to cut himself to ribbons on and she would know—

Fusheng bit down hard on his forearm, breathing ragged as he fought to get himself under control, adding one more damning bruise to the set he already had. When Fusheng came back to himself enough to disengage his teeth and lower his arm, Xingcheng had shifted, turning towards him in the bed, his left arm now slung over Fusheng’s stomach, his hand heavy and possessive where it lay, and a sweet, contented smile on his face as he curled closer.

And, in spite of his turmoil, that smile… that possessive arm… they sparked a surge of warmth in Fusheng’s chest, even as a tendril of deeper, darker heat coiled low in his belly.

In all of Dongjiang, the only one who can tell me what to do… I’m afraid it’s you.

The words had slipped out of him in a moment of sentimentality on the back of a motorcycle, the wind snatching them away so quickly that Fusheng had almost hoped Xingcheng hadn’t heard. Fusheng had once sworn that he would never let Xingcheng know that, would never reveal how deeply Xingcheng had hold of him. Da-ge had forced that promise from him one drunken night while Xingcheng was overseas. Fusheng hadn’t understood then, how dangerous that knowledge could be for him, if Xingcheng had it.

Fusheng understood, now.

And it was far, far too late to do anything about it.

Da-ge… you were right. You were right, and I’m sorry. I should have listened.

Resolutely closing his eyes, Fusheng did his best to let it go, to let Xingcheng’s warmth and sleepy weight drag him down to sleep, himself—desperately hoping all the while that that was the only thing Xingcheng would drag him down to… and somehow knowing that he was not going to get off that easily. Xingcheng owned him, body, heart, and soul… and now Xingcheng knew it. Fusheng didn’t stand a chance.

#granting you a dreamlike life #luo fusheng #xu xingcheng #luo fusheng x xu xingcheng #eirenical.fic #gyadl fanfic #rating: m #missing scene #episode 3 #the night before the morning after #snippet #...if it can be called a snippet at over 1k words #;D #ANGST AHOY #emotional hurt no comfort #fusheng is in for a rough time in this fic #but there WILL be a happy ending #promise #^_^#eventual lfs x dty x xxc #eventual OT3 #but not for a while yet #...enjoy?#all the naughtier stuff is behind the cut #and here's a #long post #tag in case the cut doesn't work

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