Work Text:
Yao Guang stared at the empty area next to him, the reminiscent whispers of a woman around his age playfully teasing him came to mind. He smiles bitterly.
“Yao Guang.”
Yao Guang’s body tenses momentarily, relaxing when his mind registers the voice as Tian Lang’s.
“…What is it?” Yao Guang asks, his eyes glued to the empty chair.
It’s late at night, maybe even early in the morning and Yao Guang can’t sleep. He lets out a shaky breath, he’s supposed to feel better. Instead, he only feels worse.
“Can’t sleep?” Tian Lang asks, walking past him to take a glass of water from the pitcher. He comes back soon with two glasses of water. He sits next to Yao Guang, knees bumping against Yao Guang’s.
“…Yeah,” Yao Guang says, voice trembling, his hands unknowingly digging into his thighs. He doesn’t realise until he feels a cold pair of hands rub at his knuckles.
“Don’t do that.” Tian Lang frowns, his voice unusually soft, devoid of the rough edges and snark bites. Yao Guang gazes at Tian Lang, silently.
He smiles.
“What are you smiling for?” Tian Lang asks, eyebrows furrowing at the sudden change. Yao Guang’s hands relax under Tian Lang’s touch.
Yao Guang doesn’t answer, instead, he leans into Tian Lang’s shoulder. His hands may be cold, but the rest of his body is warm. Even as he smiles, Tian Lang can feel the lithe body against him tremble, fingers digging into his thighs again.
Tian Lang frowns, but his hands don’t stop rubbing circles over the joints of Yao Guang’s hands. Tian Lang has never been good with words. But if it’s for Yao Guang, he wants to try .
The words are stuck in his throat as he gazes at Tian Lang, gazing as Yao Guang’s hands dig deeper into his thighs, his knuckles white and head down. “Yao Guang, look at me.” Tian Lang says sternly, frowning harder when Yao Guang doesn’t listen.
Tian Lang gently tilts Yao Guang’s head up to look at him. Look at me , he wants to stay. Instead, “...It’s okay.” He says,softly. Yao Guang’s lips quiver and he buries his head into Tian Lang’s chest.
Warm, muffled sobs soaked into Tian Lang’s chest, leaving a damp trail on his shirt. He could feel the trembling weight of Yao Guang pressed against him, the warmth of the wetness spreading, yet he couldn’t find it in himself to pull away. Instead, he sat there, silently, letting the quiet flood of emotions wash over him.
“Tian Lang…” He cries out softly and Tian Lang tries to ignore the painful tug at his heart. “I’m so tired.” He whispers, Yao Guang’s hands trembling, shakingly reaching for Tian Lang’s arms. Tian Lang lets him.
Yao Guang tugs Tian Lang closer, his hands digging into Tian Lang’s arms as he cries and cries until he’s tired. Even as Tian Lang feels the blunt nails dig into his flesh, he doesn’t pull away. Yao Guang sobs harder, his body weak and fragile. Tian Lang lets him.
As Yao Guang’s sobs die down, Tian Lang shifts uncomfortably, the silence between them making his skin itch . He isn'tused to this. Not this Yao Guang, he isn’t used to anything this delicate .
Usually, he would have playfully punched Yao Guang, for crying over something so silly. But with Yao Guang—no. He couldn’t. Not now .
“Hey,” Tian Lang grumbles, his voice still carrying that rough edge, but noticeably quieter than usual. “You can’t just cry all over me like that. My shirt’s ruined.”
Yao Guang doesn’t move, his breath still shaky, but a faint, weary smile crosses his face. He doesn’t look up, but Tian Lang feels the slight shift in tension, almost as if the heaviness in the room lifts, even if just a little.
“...Sorry,” Yao Guang mutters, though his voice lacks any real apology.
He waits a beat, trying to figure out what to say next, and the silence makes him itch all over again. Talking feelings? Not his thing. But when Yao Guang’s still trembling in his arms, Tian Lang curses under his breath and forces the words out, softer this time. “Yao Guang… You don’t have to say much. Just. Don’t do that again. It makes me want to punch someone.”
Yao Guang lets out a quiet, tired laugh, barely audible. “Who are you going to punch?” he asks, his voice weaker but amused by the sudden thought.
Yao Guang finally lifts his head, eyes red and swollen from crying, but there’s something softer in his eyes as he smiles lightly at Tian Lang.
Tiang Lang looks away.
Tian Lang keeps his gaze fixed on the floor, avoiding Yao Guang’s softening gaze. His hands twitch slightly, unsure of what to do with themselves now that Yao Guang has pulled away. His chest tightens, an unfamiliar weight settling inside. He wants to reach out again, wants to tell him solace-laced whispers–but the words choke in his throat, trapped under the abrasiveness he’s always worn.
He’s never been good at this. Being close . Letting people in .
But,
With Yao Guang like this, so fragile, something inside him aches, gnawing at his chest, begging to be let out, reaching for Yao Guang’s heart.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Tian Lang grumbles instead, voice rough but quiet. He sneaks a glance at Yao Guang, catching the faint tremble in the other man’s shoulders, the way his hands dig into his own arms as if to hold himself together. It’s like watching a dam about to burst, and Tian Lang has no idea how to stop the flood.
“Look at me,” Tian Lang says, his voice coming out as a whisper, “I’m not going anywhere,” a promise.
Yao Guang’s lips part, opening and closing but nothing comes out. His breath hitches, and his chest rises and falls too quickly like he’s struggling to hold back the tears that linger from the edges of his control. Tian Lang watches,helplessly, as Yao Guang’s hands twist together again, his fingers white-knuckles, shaking.
Without thinking, Tian Lang pries Yao Guang’s hands gently apart. “I told you, stop that,” he mutters, but the usual sharpness is missing. His touch lingers on Yao Guang’s skin, colder than Yao Guang remembers but it anchors him.
Yao Guang’s hands tighten on Tian Lang’s, the feather-light touch of Tian Lang’s hands, so unlike Tian Lang. The reality hits him, not like a ship stranded in the harsh storms, but like a ship reaching the calming waves near shore. Tian Lang is anchoring him.
Tian Lang’s arm gently drapes over Yao Guang’s shoulders, offering a steady anchor as they sit together in the dim light. The weight of the night seems lighter now, Yao Guang smiles.
As the minutes pass, Yao Guang’s breathing slows, becoming evener. Tian Lang remains close.
Yao Guang’s head falls against Tian Lang’s shoulder, his breathing deep and steady. Tian Lang watches him, a faint smile touching his lips as he feels the steady puff of Yao Guang’s breath.
“Go to sleep,” Tian Lang murmurs softly, his voice barely more than a whisper. “I’ll be here in the morning.”
True to his promise, Yao Guang woke up in Tian Lang’s arms.