Chapter Text
Day 3 of the HSR Charity Gala
Home of Madam Herta · @HertaStationResearch
An address to our supporters:
The Herta Station Research charity gala is reaching its final day, and here at the station we could not be more grateful for the support that’s been shown. We’ve managed to raise over 2 million dollars, and we’re still going!
Thank you for your trust and continued patronage; refer to our official pages for more information.
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Home of Madam Herta · @HertaStationResearch
We would also like to officially congratulate @theastralexpress for their triumph in Simulated Universe tournament.
Please remember that registration for the game begins soon. – HSR Staff
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Lead Researcher Asta · @Asta_HSR
Isn’t this amazing?! Thank you for your efforts everyone, you all shine as bright as the stars! Throughout the galaxy the changes we can make are numerous if we only work together. #HSR
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The clock on the bedside table flashes bright red with an offensive 12:01.
The dark is an expansive blanket over the room, thicker and more familiar than the insensitive coolness of hotel sheets that smell like nothing but unfamiliar detergent. Ren twists and turns, and when that fails he simply twists and turns some more.
It feels like he spends hours engaged in a futile fight.
The clock on the bedside table flashes bright red with an offensive 12:14.
Ren resigns himself to a long night getting well acquainted with the backs of his eyelids.
His first attempt at filling the dark space of his mind involves silence, internal peace or something. When that gets boring, he listens for the sounds of footsteps outside and the closing and opening of doors instead. One door opens, one shuts. Chatter drifts down the hallway from what sounds like three people.
The lulls in activity force him into another path. He writes a scathing letter in his mind that he’ll never actually send. He thinks about yesterday. About last week. About last month. About last year. Impossibly the night stretches on. Ren feels fatigued and stretched out like mediocre taffy.
Maybe the backs of his eyelids aren’t good enough. Maybe the gift of modern technology is the answer instead. Ren cracks open his eyes and stretches his hand into the soupy evening to acquire and power-on his phone.
The screen is too bright. The lettering on the front shows an offensive 12:37.
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yes that IS my name!!! · @reallyMarch7th
never doubt my master abilities!!!!!!!!!!!! (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧
your girl is unstoppable!
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Welt Yang · @HardshipHerrscher
I sure hope you aren’t causing trouble, March.
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BANNED PLAYER · @xXsilverwolfXx
dw old man, it’s fine. we’re just making a plan come together
---
Knock. Knock-knock. Knock. Knock.
Ren believes that if he ignores it, it’ll probably go away. Most things in life go like that.
Even if he’s incapable of sleep, the idea of actually trying to drag his bones out of bed and into the realm of the living is a f*cking nightmare. Plus, it’d reset all of the pitiful progress he’s made towards resting.
This present purgatory is enough. He squeezes his eyes shut, letting little explosions of nebulous colors bloom in the dark, and thinks nothing about his door. Ignoring. He’s great at ignoring.
A second or two passes in the dark. Ren feels like maybe this time he could actually be lulled into something like sleep.
Knock. Knock.
Unfortunately, whoever’s on the other side seems to be great at persevering, even better than Ren is at ignoring. Damn. He drags himself back up with a groan. His phone sits dull on the nightstand devoid of any notification to suggest a planned visit and the knocking still hasn’t stopped, meaning—
Ren sighs and shoves himself out of bed, shuffling through the cramped path to the door. There’s only so many options here. It’s hotel staff with some “important” matter, an overzealous fan he’ll have to deal with, or (most likely) Silver Wolf intent upon setting him on a path of violence.
Whatever. Ren’s grown and capable. He’s capable of handling any situation with a signature scowl and a dose of healthy indifference.
(But of course, the universe exists to spite him specifically.)
When he cracks the door open, none of his expectations are found true. Instead, Dan Heng stands awkwardly on the other side of the door, a nondescript black bag slung over his shoulder. He shifts his weight back and forth, expression creasing till Ren realizes he’s been staring for who knows how long.
He clears his throat, and then, intelligently, smoothly, capably, Ren opens his mouth and says:
“What are you doing here?”
(Ren closes his mouth hard enough that his teeth clack. He wonders how hard it would be to get through life never opening it again.)
“They locked me out of my room,” Dan Heng says. At least he looks no more comfortable with this situation than Ren does. His voice floats with its typical softness, but it’s unbearably loud in the silence of the hallway. His normally calm face is painted over with a grimace.
The ‘they’ in question likely refers to Stelle and March, but in no way does it explain why Dan Heng is now standing in front of him. Ren frowns and crosses his arms.
“So go to the front desk. Get another key.”
Dan Heng shifts again, enough for the light to show Ren the bags under his eyes. “They’re having some sort of girl’s night, unlocking it won’t matter. I wouldn’t bother you, but Himeko said that you…”
Oh. Dan Heng is asking him for something.
Presumably, Himeko said something logical and explanatory, but Ren is currently not home to hear it. His brain makes the most exquisite buzz as he feels each and every braincell salute before plummeting to its death.
Unfortunate, given that Dan Heng is looking at him expectantly.
If Ren puts his insanity to the side for a moment, it’s clear Dan Heng could use a hand. He looks a mess; uncomfortable, embarrassed, and still unfairly handsome. His hair is messier than its normal tousle and even beyond the shadows under his eyes, his gaze just looks weary. Above all else though, he just looks tired, and that bothers Ren more than it probably should.
The exhaustion is reasonable given the number of conversations he must’ve been dragged into today. Even worse for Dan Heng given his tendencies. Imbibitor Lunae had complained at length once about his distaste for crowds and inane conversations.
That, of course, had been before. Maybe Dan Heng wasn’t like Lunae in that regard, but then again his appearance is clearly telling. The distinction between before and after feels pitifully thin today anyway.
Ren could make the smart decision now and put the appropriate amount of distance between himself and Dan Heng. He could email his therapist, and maybe take up yoga or healthy eating or some similar bullsh*t instead of returning to a cycle he’d struggled to break.
He could do that. But would it make him happy? Would it demonstrate forgiveness? Show the trust he’s already rebuilding? Smart decisions be damned, he’d do what works for him.
Ren steps to the side. “It’s not a lot of space in here, I don’t know why Himeko said otherwise.”
He doesn’t even know how Himeko is aware of his room situation, though he has a sneaking purple-haired suspicion. Not that it matters now, when Dan Heng is already walking into his room with a grateful expression.
Which is fine until reality sinks in. The reality being that Dan Heng is in his room and he’s looking straight at the singular bed with dawning clarity.
“Oh,” he says.
Ren makes a noise that could be translated as acknowledgement. It doesn’t seem to set Dan Heng at ease.
“I can go,” he starts, “I’m sure that—“
“Don’t bother. The hotel is filled.”
Ren helpfully leaves out that he doesn’t want Dan Heng to leave. That’s a little too honest given the circ*mstances, probably too forward as well. Still, there’s no reason he should be anywhere else, with anyone else, when Ren can help. These are thoughts he likely shouldn’t be having, possession he hasn’t earned but still.
The universe has put candy in front of a small child, gacha currency before Silver Wolf, or some overpriced accessories in front of Kafka. What is he supposed to do? He is not immune to desire. Dan Heng is, and likely will continue to be, the source of it en masse.
“I could take the couch,” Dan Heng suggests.His gaze flickers wildly, like an animal looking for an escape.
It’s a reasonable suggestion, but as it is right now, the couch is way too f*cking small for Dan Heng’s gangly limbs. They could probably work around that, it’s not impossible that the couch pulls out, but the longer Ren looks at it and considers the effort, the more he feels the fatigue start to sink slow into the depths of his bones and belly. His body aches miserably at the mere thought. They’d likely have to move the coffee table, and Ren’s not even sure they put extra sheets and pillows in the closet, which means they’d have to call the front desk and, and and…
And it’d all be a bitch to deal with.
Ren speaks before he thinks, “You fine with sharing the bed instead?”
Dan Heng’s brows immediately shoot to their highest possible placement, an inner debate visible on his pretty, pretty face.
(And he shouldn’t find it funny, he shouldn’t— but there’s creeping tendrils of smug amusem*nt in seeing his shock. A sharp little joy to be found in riling the typically unflappable.)
Ren tracks his eyes to the bed pressed up against the wall. It’s not a death sentence he’s proposing. Despite the room’s humble space, the bed is incredibly serviceable. It could fit them both with room to spare. Probably.
A door slams shut out in the hall. Ren thinks he’s about to have to move the coffee table anyway, when Dan Heng finally nods stiffly.
The confirmation lets the reality sink in: they’ll be sleeping together.
There’s a tension in the air, something Ren can write off as simple awkwardness but can’t define otherwise. It’s like anticipation if you shaved off all the spark it normally entails.All the time Ren has spent obsessing over Dan Heng, and this is not a scenario he’s ever imagined for himself. He’s not social, nor is he some suave romance protagonist in a setting where broody maladjusted men are something to be desired.
(The thought that hopefully Dan Heng desires that exact type is elegantly sliced and sent into the deep ocean of Ren’s consciousness)
Sleep. Sleep would be good. A definable set of actions to be completed.
He runs his hands through his hair, grounds himself in the drag of his nails against the scalp and then looks towards Dan Heng.He seems suspended in time, barely moving but for the obvious signs of agitated thoughts behind his eyes. He’s still in his casual clothes too, his hand gripped around his bag like it’s a lifeline.
Ren moves on autopilot, back to the safety of the side of the bed, and looks at anything but that which matters.
“Bathrooms over there,” he says, “I’m going back to bed now.”
Dan Heng still stands unmoving with stiff limbs and distant eyes. It feels like he should do something, but Ren isn’t sure what. Sliding into bed like he claimed he was going to do feels so final.
f*cking hells though, he can be normal about this. He wasn’t really a kid that had sleepovers, but he has been a broke young adult crashing places. He knows how badly the floor sucks, and that most couches encourage cramping. It’s really not that bad to keep a respectable distance in a wide bed.
Ren keeps his eyes locked on Dan Heng as he finally sits. “I’ve got a spare shirt or something if you need it,” he offers. For his own sake he hopes Dan Heng doesn’t, the wretched creature making its home inside his chest wouldn’t know what to do with such a sight.
Dan Heng doesn’t look up. “It’s fine,” he says kicking into motion.
His back turned Ren can stare unbidden, his brow raising of its own accord. The bag on his shoulder looks like the regular one he stores his notebooks and writing implements in, not one specifically for overnight stays. It’s a detail he files way for later, in the obsessive inner cabinet for all his Dan Heng facts.
There’s a tightness in the way Dan Heng holds himself, but he still moves gracefully through the hall and behind the bathroom door. He slides properly underneath the covers, and in a room finally bereft of Dan Heng, but not too far removed from him, Ren can breathe for once.
The darkness feels lighter now and the silence is replaced with a consistent proof of movement from the other side of the wall. The bedside clock is still offensive but, for some reason he doesn’t want to place, Ren feels fine. He pulls his phone into his hand and scrolls aimlessly as he waits for Dan Heng’s return.
---
Ren: What did you do
Kafka: Ren dear, it’s late for vaugeries. Shouldn’t you be resting for tomorrow? Eyebags won't suit your outfit
Ren: Kafka. What. Did. You. Do
Kafka: No time for this Bladie, just play your part.
Kafka: I’m off now~~ do your best.
Ren: Kafka.
---
Ren would be lying if he said he had never considered Imbibitor Lunae (and later Dan Heng) in his bed.
It’s an innocent thing too most times, a genuine curiosity and craving for connection after so long spent without.He can say, however, that in all his thoughts he never imagined this.
This being Dan Heng in his bed under dubious circ*mstances, in a hotel room he doesn’t care for, while their relationship functions like a chair with three legs. The only way for him to swallow it down is to break the circ*mstances into small physical parts.
In many ways the reality of the situation is rather plain—there’s nothing exceptional about the two of them sleeping together. It really is just as simple as another body a few feet away from him on the mattress; and while the knowledge that the body is Dan Heng makes him hyperaware of every passing second, there’s very little to be aware of. The room is still silent aside from the buzz of the air conditioning unit and what sounds like chairs scraping in the adjacent room. Nothing else changes.
The elusive nature of sleep included.
While Dan Heng seems to have immediately set himself at rest, Ren still feels adrift. His mind is moving miles a minute, looping back around towards every conversation he’s ever had with Dan Heng and each one he still needs to have.
Ren tries to think of something else, anything to plunge his brain into a void state. Something boring, like the length of the trip back home or the way the sheets have a stray thread near where his hand rests. It works till his mind wanders climbing towards facts like Dan Heng breathing hard on each exhale, and how clearly his bones showed themselves through his thin sleep shirt.
Even the slightest slip-up sends him reeling. Facts about Dan Heng come faster, sped on by the proximity and fixation. He categorizes it all. Ren knows almost everything but craves everything still. Dan Heng still smells like book pages, and his presence in the bed has almost seemed to make it colder rather than warmer.
It’s the thought of temperature, out of all he’s had tonight, that manages to distract him. The chill snags on details of old conversations, sending Ren down a rabbit hole of reminiscence.They’d talked about it right? Teaming up and taking on the world.
They’d been so close once, only separated by physical distance. Over and over, they swore they’d break every boundary down eventually. And now here they are, so close and still separated by physical distance and everything else. Ren could reach out; it’d be effortless and terrifying. He could endure Dan Heng’s bony limbs pressing into his side just for the chance to warm him and scent those pages up close.
He won’t, but—
Dan Heng’s voice comes out low and sudden. “Are we going to talk about it?”
Ren stills.
Talk? About the way he’s staring and thinking ever so carefully about invading Dan Heng’s private space and never letting him go? Even with his eyes that see through him and the world, surely Dan Heng is not that omniscient.
“I thought we were sleeping,” Ren grumbles.
“Yingxing.”
The tone is somewhat admonishing, and achingly familiar even when it shouldn’t be; it sends shivers racing through Ren’s body. Finally hearing the name aloud is akin to a spoil of war, it lights him up inside and stokes a flame that’s greedy for a little more. A lot more, if the holder of the fuel would only provide, and Ren is ravenous.
“Ren,” he says thickly. “It’s Ren.”
He probably doesn’t need to tell him now but it’s an admission of choice, an offering at the holy shrine of Lunae. He hopes by giving it out that Dan Heng will test the syllables on his tongue, taking the kindle and overflowing him with it.
“Are we going to talk about it then, Ren? Will you listen?”
Dan Heng is cool, like smooth water and pristine ice— he knows restraint, and exactly how to keep Ren addicted. The desires tug at one another behind his ribs, but in control of his heart Ren knows that of course he’ll listen. He’s wary, but willing andit’s silent till it’s not.
“Tell me why you left.”
The golden question.
“Just about two weeks before everything happened,” Dan Heng starts softly, “my family disowned me.”
The words are accompanied by a sigh, something heavy and profound, but he speaks as though the topic might as well be the weather.
“It wasn’t exactly unexpected,” he continues, “I had never lived up to their expectations even when I obeyed them unquestioningly.”
“What finally did it?”
(There are other things to ask, but Ren is selfish. Arrogant. He fears that somehow the answer was him. More proof of yet another thing he destroyed, and another way he ruined Dan Heng.)
Dan Heng chuckles mirthlessly. “What didn’t? They’ll say first it’s because I refused to follow them into the business they’d been so carefully grooming me to take over.”
“And later?” Ren asks.
“They’ll have their pick of flaws. I refused to entertain what was essentially an arranged marriage, and I wouldn’t give up my freedom. I destroyed tradition, I’m an arrogant prick…the list goes on.”
Ren feels the moment Dan Heng starts fidgeting, the lift of his hand obvious as it starts drawing circles against the sheets. He doesn’t turn to look, but he can imagine the swirls he makes and the image cools the red starting to cloud his vision.
Dan Heng is subdued when he speaks again, “They’re right about some of it. I’m not—“
“They’re assholes,” Ren cuts in. His words hold more vehemence than he intended, but the whole thing is f*cking stupid. There is no world where Dan Heng is not something impressive. If his family didn’t see that, then clearly, they were inadequate.
“I don’t need comforting,” he says quickly. The cool ice is back in his tone, leaving him sharp and aloof. “I made my choice.”
(The words poke just slightly, a reminder in their phrasing: I made my choice, and it doesn’t involve you.)
Ren feels the scowl on his face. “It’s not supposed to be comforting, just true.”
He’s not adept in the mess that is family but he knows it is not that. Even if their son wasn’t Dan Heng, all that’s awe-inspiring, it still shouldn’t be that. Families are not intolerance and conditional love if what everyone has preached to him is to be believed.
(And maybe he believes it a bit. Because family is a sour candy in his hand, and an open door in the back of an uneasy situation)
“Thank you,” Dan Heng whispers so featherlight as to almost be missed. “The point of telling you this wasn’t to earn your sympathy, though. It just explains the catalyst for everything.”
Ren leaves the floor open; Dan Heng seems eager to spill in the dark space between them, and he is parched for the tales.
“After leaving my family, I had to start making a lot of changes, a lot faster than I ever thought I would. I knew something like this was coming, but there was supposed to be more time. Right then, I didn’t know what to do, and I didn’t have anyone to turn to.”
And that stings like a pavement scrape, pebbles of irritation on already vulnerable skin. If Ren were a better person he’d bite his tongue, but he isn’t.
“Me,” he says forcefully. “You had me.”
Almost in answer, Dan Heng shifts slightly.
“I didn’t want to go to you.”
Ren feels like he’s been sliced in the gut. His arms itch and his throat burns with the urge to lash out immediately. But he stills himself and lets the venom slip into his words, scathing, “Is that how it is?”
The fire swells, aching to rush out his throat and burn all in its awake. They say love and hate are balanced upon a thin line, and this flame nurtured by his longing is so easily twisted into something malevolent. as quickly as it was lit, it’s snuffed out.
“You thought I was special,” Dan Heng breathes out. His words sound so careful, like spun sugar. And just like that, as quickly as his anger had risen, it’s snuffed out.
“The reality of it, that I wasn’t, was embarrassing. it was so many things…”
The insinuation is insulting, but the pain in Dan Heng’s voice is audible– Ren wants to cut through the hurt and misunderstandings, but he doesn’t, he can’t.Dan Heng just keeps talking, more and more ice water upon the bed.
“What was I going to say about my problems knowing your history? You’d finally opened up and moved on yourself. I wasn’t willing to drag you down. What could I have even asked you to do? I caused my own downfall, and I didn’t want— I didn’t know how…” he sinks into silence. “I withdrew. The only ones who really knew what was going on were Jing Yuan and Jingliu. They already knew the basics of my… situation… I thought they could help.”
It’s the most Ren has ever heard Dan Heng speak at once. He is not as verbose.
“What then?” Ren manages.
“I contacted Elio. I knew moving was in my future, and I had already been thinking about leaving for some time. With everything else and knowing that Jingliu and Baiheng were leaving too, the time seemed right.”
“So, you were always planning on leaving?”
Ren tilts his head enough to see the way Dan Heng’s face twists. “I wasn’t having fun anymore, not anywhere but with you.”
“You could have told me.”
“I could have. But like I said last time– you were enjoying yourself, and I knew you would’ve left for me. That wasn’t what I was looking for. I wanted to be who you thought I was, so we could approach one another as equals.”
The thought still pisses Ren off to no end.
(But he’s right, and Ren thinks that might piss him off more)
“I had intended on a more graceful exit, one where we were still in contact. I reached out by the time I felt settled,” Dan Heng ventures. “I know by then it was too late, but it wasn’t a matter of not caring. I always cared for you, possibly too much.”
Ren doesn’t know what to do with the fact that he finally has an answer. A reasonable one– one that has nothing to do with him. Does it erase the pain or the anger? Does it matter? Ren wishes he had something to crush at this moment.
“Joining the Astral Express was more of an accident than anything. Himeko was an old professor of mine, and she offered me a job in exchange for a place to live. Which eventually turned into… everything else.”
Dan Heng’s next words follow a deep breath. “I didn’t mean to cross any boundaries; I had assumed you were done with me and intended to honor that. It wasn’t until the third or so encounter with you as Blade that I made the connection between you both.”
That has Ren starting; he had made the connections—and f*ck if he knew whether that made things better or worse. He still can’t think of their interview without a wave of pain in his skull.
“I should’ve stopped talking with you then, your lack of answer to my texts said enough,” Dan Heng admits softly. “But I was selfish. And you were still reaching out to me, so I assumed maybe…”
“I never read the messages,” Ren interrupts. “I hadn’t seen anything after the first night.”
Dan Heng is painfully unresponsive, giving space for Ren’s stomach to twist and turn.
“Oh.”
He sounds disappointed. Ren wonders if Dan Heng has it in him to doubt. The idea that he could possibly be upset about Ren’s indifference pleases him just as much as it confounds, but he can’t blame Dan Heng when he hasn’t said anything.
“I was pissed,” Ren says. “I still am sometimes. You were an ass for what you did. Why the f*ck would you make decisions for me?”
Dan Heng opens and closes his mouth a few times, gears turning. Ren cuts him off before he can start rambling again.
“But I didn’t make things any easier. I didn’t know how back then, and I still don’t know now. Not really. But I never wanted you to leave me alone. You didn’t cross anything without my allowance.”
A beat, then tentatively. “Did you… ever read them, Yingxing?”
“Only in the past few days.”
(Because I missed you. Because I think I might love you. Because knowing you again might’ve made me braver than when I was alone.)
It’s cold in the hotel room, a fact not helped by the two of them being together. Dan Heng’s frigid waters everywhere, while his fire has long since been doused. It’s something strangely calm though. If their last conversation was a storm, it’s all settled now. The boat sits on a moonless surface, and rocks gently in uncertain but soft waters.
“How do we stand then?” Dan Heng asks, “Is there a way to resolve this situation? Are we going to be like this forever?”
Yearning and questioning mix into Dan Heng’s voice, into the very sentiment of the whole situation. It’s contagious; Ren thinks in some ways situation had been resolved long ago. Where they stand feels far more complicated, but they have always been more adept at truths without words.
(He can’t approach forever. The idea of them some way forever. If he admits to love, can he take friendship? Just because he wants something does that mean he deserves it?)
(Ren, his therapist said once, Love is not supposed to be conditional. It’s not a matter of deserving.)
“I got a dog,” Ren finds himself saying instead. If Dan Heng is bothered by the change in topic he doesn’t say.
“March showed me the photos. They’re cute.”
“They are,” Ren agrees. “I found them on the side of the road, two days after Elio announced you quit. I was different then. Irritated, mostly.”
More so than normal. He might’ve made the clerk at the local convenience store cry that morning. It was a purgatory of his own making, every step hounded by the weight of sustaining his crumbling stability and nursing a stabbed heart. As he had trudged back to his apartment, grey clouds dimming his way, he had found Shuhu. They were puffed up and beaten down by the world but undeniably persevering.
“They weren’t scared of me at all,” he explains. “Even though it was clear they’d been through hell, they still walked right up to me.”
“I don’t think you’ve ever been as scary as you believe Yingxing,” Dan Heng says.
“To the select few, maybe,” Ren admits. “Anyway, I brought them home and to put it lightly, I f*cked it all up a lot.”
Kafka had opened the door to see Ren barely containing the scruffy dog and had simply sighed before opening it wider. They hadn’t even had food that first night, instead having to offer up chopped-up pieces of the stew Kafka and Ren had made earlier. Ren didn’t know where the vet was, didn’t have a collar or a leash, and didn’t know sh*t about how often he had to let the dog go out.
Ren isn’t caring. He isn’t nurturing.
Shuhu looked at him with honesty though. Shuhu kept nosing at his hand no matter what mistakes he met, they kept leaping up to lick at his face despite f*ck-up after f*ck-up. Ren didn’t expect it, nor did he really know what to do with it. He wondered if Shuhu saw that he did care, even if his care was a f*cked up and mangled thing.
Maybe, just maybe, the people that love you, will stick around sometimes. If you mean what you do, and you have good intentions. Maybe Ren wasn’t unworthy, and maybe just maybe, Imbibitor Lunae was right about animals and the heart.
The revelation didn’t improve his track record, but he kept trying. And he kept failing. And he saw a therapist, not far down the street from Shuhu’s vet. And he likes to think he’d got a little better.
“Shuhu didn’t care about my mistakes as long as they got fed. They stuck around and it made everything that was going on more tolerable. Even if I did something wrong and they’d still follow me into my room at night with their tail wagging.” Ren shuffles about in the bed a bit, uncomfortable with the sheets and the sudden vulnerability. “You were right about what you said back then. Pets, they help a lot.”
“You remembered that?”
“Among other things,” Ren says.
He knows what he wants to say: that he never forgot Dan Heng. That he changed, and that he learned how to love when he thought he was incapable, and figured out f*cking up was a part of it. He wants to say that he forgives Dan Heng. That he hopes Dan Heng forgives him. That he’d be there for as many bad choices Dan Heng decides to make as long as he’s willing to stand beside Ren for his.
(That where they stand, is that Ren knows his intentions are good, and even if the results sucked, he’s willing to stick around if not wag his tail.)
It’s hard though, to express that, to be that raw and ugly. So, he talks about Shuhu. It’s love in the easiest way Ren knows how to express– change that Imbibitor Lunae indirectly brought about. He hopes Dan Heng sees what’s underneath: I’d follow you every night and every morning too. He hopes Dan Heng can hear it, like he hears his breathing.
“I talked to them about you a lot,” Ren says, with a voice gruffer than he’d like. “Silver Wolf and Kafka were merciless. Shuhu at least couldn’t talk back.”
There’s a distinct inhale from Dan Heng’s spot. It could be mistaken for laughter, it could be mistaken for shock. Ren doesn’t pry.
“It was different without you,” Ren says. “I missed… this.”
(He’s said it before, but it’s different in the dark. Strangely more visible for the way nothing else is.)
“I missed it too. More than anything,” Dan Heng says in a rush, like the words can’t escape him fast enough. “Could we start again?”
Ren thinks about the silver bracelet still wrapped round Dan Heng’s wrist, and the statue still hidden at the back of his dresser.The careful spun-sugar words are not needed for someone as hardened as himself.
“I think we can continue instead.”
When Ren turns to the side, he catches the moon sliding right over Dan Heng’s face. The light fighting its way through the crack in the window brings out a luminosity to his green eyes, they spark with unmistakable relief. A serene smile writes itself upon his face, and Ren wonders if he mirrors it.
The moon slips right off his face, and Dan Heng quietly whispers, “I’d like that.”
The strings are finally cut, each and every one, and something unfurls within. Ren sinks properly deep into the bed and lets the nothingness of a plain night envelop him. It can be another day, another part of a continuing future. Dan Heng is silent alongside him, but it’s the peaceful sort of silece.
If Ren presses his eyes shut with enough force it can be like he’s seeing stars, just like before. But now he’s not a lone kid with the wind whistling through the grass beside him, instead he’s grown and found a warm body next to him.
Proof of growth and change, and it’s not just his own either. They have both found new paths for their life.
“Who are you then?” Ren says into the dark.
Dan Heng rolls beside him, the mattress squeaking out. “What?” he mumbles.
“The other night, you said that I didn’t know you at all, and that you had to find yourself. So, what did you find? Who are you really?”
“I don’t know,” Dan Heng admits. “Just Dan Heng, mostly.”
(Dan Heng. Dan Heng. Dan Heng.)
The atmosphere is soft and intimate, not so different from their old late-night chats over text. Now the shared words and darkness are only made richer by the fact that knows how Dan Heng sounds, how he occupies this world breathtakingly alive.
“Goodnight then, Dan Heng.”
“Goodnight, Ren.”
---
You’re viewing older messages Jump To Present ˅
Imbibitor Lunae
Give me a moment to log-in, I need to grab a jacket.
Yingxing
the f*ck? its the middle of summer
Imbibitor Lunae
I run cold.
Yingxing
your really a lizard huh?
Im always hot, wanna trade
Imbibitor Lunae
I have no interest in sweating to death. The most practical option would simply be to team up.
Or is that some attempt at vanity?
Yingxing
one day we’ll have to find out
---
Ren doesn’t dream often.
There’s been a couple speculations as to why: he doesn’t sleep well enough, he’s an emotional black hole lacking in necessary whimsy, or he just doesn’t. As of now, no conclusive answers have been decided upon.
There’re blips sometimes, fleeting moments that develop into mornings where he wakes with strained eyes or a pounding heart, but nothing he can definitively remember.
Tonight, however, it feels as though he’s finally had a breakthrough. He's dreaming, and it’s a nice one too. Ren feels warm, and tethered to the earth like when Shuhu drapes themselves over him. There’s a sense of support and a dream-like certainty that he is ok, like he can let his guard down for once.
It’s the sort of thing he’d take more often, the sort of thing to make him understand why others have always seemed so aghast at his typical lacking.
But good things never last; Ren sleeps light, always has, and the sound of loud footsteps passing through the outside hall are enough to yank him out of the dream world. If that weren’t enough, a door slamming shut to drunken laughter not long after finished the job.
Hazy in that fogged place between sleep and waking, Ren blinks blankly into the darkness. It’s still late judging by the lack of light, and after those prior interruptions the quiet has returned. It’s irritating, suddenly being jolted into awareness, but there’s a rounded edge in the fact that the warmth from his dream seems to linger on.
It’s pleasant, lying in the still night and feeling secure and solid. The whole world could be asleep at this hour. The only sign of life is the tell-tale heavy exhale of Dan Heng, muffled by the way it presses into the fabric of his shirt.
Ren blinks once.
Ren blinks twice more.
There’s hot breath against the fabric of his shirt. Why is there hot breath against the fabric of his shirt?
f*ck. f*ck. f*cking hells.
Awareness crashes in with the scent of crisp book pages. The waves are all upon his shore. That warmth he thought to be from the dream is his own, and it’s being leeched by a cold presence pressed against him. Dan Heng is freezing if the fingers ghosting along Ren’s exposed skin are anything to go off of, and if it isn’t, then he has more than enough supporting evidence.
Evidence being there is a body practically on-top of him. An alive body. A body that belongs to Dan Heng. And maybe that’s part of the magical warming too, but that’s a dangerous thought.
This whole thing is dangerous. It wouldn’t have been enough for the two of them to have gravitated together under the blurred filter of sleep. No, they had to be pressed together without an inch of space between them. Dan Heng is flush against his side, his cold fingers and hot breath all open and accessible.
Ren should feel revolted.
Casual touch isn’t something he’s fond of. Usually, it’s only after extensive contact that he feels even the slightest bit neutral about it. He can’t conjure any of that typical revulsion though, not when he can feel Dan Heng’s cheek against his chest with only a thin barrier of fabric in-between. It’s disturbing just how content he feels. It’s horrifying, and Dan Heng’s fingers are still unconscionably cold.
Dan Heng never does anything but exceed his expectations.
It’s like he meets ideals Ren didn’t even realize he had, checked off all the preferences Ren had developed without active effort. Ren’s had partners before, fleeting things, and on the rare occasion he’d shared a bed with another there was always a laundry list of complaints come morning.
It came from both sides: he couldn’t stand those possessing sharp elbows or with a habit of waking up early. Those with him hated how light he slept, how late he passed out, or even just who the way he constantly ran hot. It was like a puzzle that never had the right pieces.
Ren assumed he was better off alone. It seems he was just better off waiting for Dan Heng.
It’s horribly cliché to say the fit together perfectly, but they do. In the dark of the night, his body and brain move easier, like he's been set free from bindings that hold his tension and anger in place during the day. He feels at home in his skin, more certain of his position in the world and the set of his bones. Part of it is undeniably a result of the way Dan Heng rests so effortlessly against him.
His chest burns, so red-hot there’s an irrational fear that it’ll burn the cheek he’s holding up. Dan Heng shifts against him, his face creased in irritation. Ren stiffens immediately— he’s in no way eager to wake a slumbering dragon, not when he doesn’t have the words to explain the situation to him.
The seconds tick by, however, and even as Ren relaxes, Dan Heng continues to make aborted agitated movements. He shows no signs of awareness, only the beginning beads of sweat starting to gather at his brow despite his low temperature.
He’s in distress. Maybe in pain?
Ren’s chest twists unpleasantly, the burn bought out by a more powerful emotion. His experience with this sort of thing is limited. In the early weeks when Shuhu used to shake and whine in his sleep, there was little to do but run a hand through his fur. What words were there for something intangible? Dan Heng is by no means a dog, but Ren cares for him just the same. He wants to ease his pain. He finds him just as worthy of love, and of all the gentleness Ren is unsure if he’s capable of.
This is not his area of expertise, and likely never will be, but for Dan Heng, he intends to try.
He doesn’t know what’s right, so he simply does what he wants. An arm wrapped around Dan Heng’s waist with intent, something to signal safety. Dan Heng resists for a moment till he seems to melt, giving way to the warmth beneath him.
That trust is intoxicating, prodding Ren into the willingness to be just a bit more selfish.
He draws his calloused fingers across the smooth exposed skin of Dan Heng’s arm. He makes lines between the freckles that dot the surface, a tracing path to form little constellations all across his body.In time he winds his way up to the soft hair tucked under his chin. He makes a pattern all his own, filled with a feeling he won’t put a name to.
Ren freezes when Dan Heng seems to rustle, removing his hands like they’ve been burned. Nothing seems to happen though, only the faintest whisper before Dan Heng is pressed against him once again. Ren’s not ever sure it was real. Dan Heng’s breathing evens out, back into the strange rhythm that’s all his own, and it’s nice. All of it’s nice.
Ren sinks back against the pillows, pausing for Dan Heng to readjust himself against his side. His fingers are still f*cking frigid, but he’s so warm where he’s carved a space against his side. If they press harder in their sleep, perhaps they could meld into one being, never to be parted again.
For now though, he is here in this world. As long as he is here, he is capable of change, he is—
He is asleep.
The bright red clock on the bedside table ticks on unnoticed, and two bodies tangle further into the night.
---
THE BLADES DRAGON (DELUSIONAL)· @moonmoonmoonmoon
sooooooo any bets on what @/reallyMarch7th and @/xXsilverwolfXx are talking about??? like…. you go girls!!! give us something!
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stan mister tail + huohuo· @StormyBlow
another big collab maybe? it feels like Himeko has been dropping big hints recently about future plans on her streams +++ she did tell Kafka a while back that the AE had future events and stuff in store!
l
old man yaoi· @bladesedger
consider: silver wolf is just kinda a troll LMAO
⟡ marmar ⟡ · @keenwebfan2003
all the guesses for SW/march’s plan are so wholesome. am I the only one that thinks its just them trying to prank stelle or something???? im going crazy LMAO but that morning alarm drama is REAL
l
yes that IS my name!!!· @reallyMarch7th
it IS REAL!! but no! not that….not this time at least hehe (* ^ ω ^)
l
⟡ marmar ⟡ · @keenwebfan2003
omggggggg march hiiiiiiiiiii! good luck w/ whatev it is and be nice to stelle!!!
---
Birdsong trickles into the edges of Ren’s awareness, joined by a stream of golden sunlight. It’s all sickeningly idyllic, a perfect morning out of a glossy magazine.
Ren rolls through a mental list of violent activities in stubborn defiance.
Forget the morning, he liked being asleep for once. Whatever time it is, it’s far too early for being a functioning human being, and something in his dreams had actually been somewhat decent— enough to encourage him to ward off the waking world.
A tilt of his head reveals the long-standing nemesis: The clock on the bedside table, flashing bright red with an offensive 12:01.
The familiarity is irksome, and the surrounding bedsheets are cold. Cold like reality, and not ice water.
Dan Heng had left. (Or maybe, something sinister whispers, he was never here at all.)
Ren clenches the sheets in his fist, flexing a few times for force and sensation. Proof of some intangible thing. The answer doesn’t matter: the day will go on and Ren must persist.
He sits up with a groan, hair falling down atop his shoulders. It’s tangled, and in need of a wash. Just as he’s about to stand for the bathroom, his eyes catch on a slip of white atop the bedside table and tucked underneath the accursed clock.
A ripped page of hotel stationary sits prim, filled up with long lines of neat if not standard handwriting. For every hanging letter is an exaggerated looping flourish, made with what could only be a smooth flick of the wrist across the paper.
Ren,
Thank you for your hospitality. I just received confirmation that my room is open again, so I’ve gotten out of your way. I’m leaving you my new personal number, in case you seek repayment.
Ren snorts, even as his grip tightens alongside the paper, creasing the edges. Of course the bastard would consider himself “in the way”. Like Ren wouldn’t give anything to hold him inside his space indefinitely— like he wouldn’t chase him to the ends of the earth just to keep him in reach.
The letter continues, marred with several scratched-out lines that hide the shapes of words like tonight and with me and text. Beneath all the carnage, there is a lone sentence. Small and to the point, layered with the meaning of all the fallen phrases behind it.
Will I see you again?
Ren has spent months agonizing over that question, over that desire and its origin. If Ren found comedy in such things, he’d almost be amused at how much clearer things see in the daylight, even if they’re more honest in the dark. After so much time such a sentiment can hardly even be a question.
Ren wants Dan Heng.
(All parts: Imbibitor Lunae, Cold Dragon Young, and clingy quantitative Dan Heng most of all.)
All Dan Heng will give; contact, communication, or care— Ren will lap it up with no complaint.
He knows what it feels like to see Dan Heng laugh. How it is to rest with the man in his arms. How his eyes lighten and darken by the environment. And still, and forever, he doesn’t know enough. It’s why there’s been a feeling welling up within him, one that is incapable of containment. It only grows exponentially, sped along by recent events. Not dissimilar to the love he feels for Kafka or Silver Wolf, yet not at all the same.
Dan Heng is as he is. Ren will always seek him.
Will I see you again?
You’d have to try not to.
---
Ren: You weren’t a bother.
Ren: and I better see you tonight
Dan Heng: You better? I’ll take that under consideration.
Dan Heng: Thank you, Ren.
Dan Heng: And apologies for how we seemed to be entangled. I don’t normally gravitate towards others in my sleep, I’m not sure what happened.
Ren: don’t worry about it
Ren: didn’t mind
Dan Heng: Mmm, I see. Till later then.
---
Getting out of bed and going into the world is an arduous task for which he should be duly applauded for accomplishing.
It’s made easier by the way he feels well-rested for once, something settled in his gut after being adrift for nearly a year. Ren feels light— he might even dare to say he’s anticipatory. Dan Heng is back in his life and is more electrifying than ever.
With each step he takes the warmth from the night before still sticks to his skin. Unlike the flame that normally itches up his body and sets him on edge, this is like sitting on warm pavement after being submerged in cold water. Calming, indulgent.
It tempers him, straightens out his irritation and shapes it into something manageable. He is so tamed that he does not even flinch at the lackluster breakfast left over for those few pitiful late risers.Nor does he notice himself falling prey to Kafka’s little protege.
Stelle stands focused at the corner of the sad late morning pastry shelf, only to immediately lock onto Ren the moment he steps into the room. She waves at him with the unspoken energy of a command. How she imbues such things into such a lazy gesture is a mystery.
“Blade,” she grins. “I wanted to talk to you. Thanks for looking after Dan Heng.”
Ren eyes her warily, “Meaning?”
“Last night.”
Ren feels something in his face twitch. Kafka likes this one, he reminds himself, be nice. She probably did you a favor. He takes a deep breath, “Was that all your doing?”
Stelle’s smile remains blissfully innocent as she shrugs her shoulders.
“No, I just follow orders.”
She stacks her plate with baked goods till they’re nearly spilling off the side. It’s obscene, and frankly Ren thinks it should be dangerous, but Stelle walks with practiced ease to the nearby table with the clear expectation Ren will be joining her.
“Cmon, I really did want to talk,” she says.
Ren follows her with the confidence of a man on death row, and the ownership of a singular muffin. Both are rather pathetic.
“So, about Dan Heng,” Stelle starts once she sits down. “I’m not as good at this sort of thing as March,”
If this is what Ren thinks it is, another shovel talk, then she’s right. She isn’t.
Ren recognizes awkwardness when he sees it, even if Stelle’s compelling too in her own sort of way. She has a special sort of intensity for someone half-awake and in possession of far too many bagels to be socially acceptable. It keeps his attention at least.
“Dan Heng likes you,” she announces. She says it like it’s easy, like such a confession isn’t weighed with guilt and conditions and contingencies. “You like him too, right?”
Ren sits very silent. He does of course.
But the phrasing makes it all sound juvenile; using like for Dan Heng doesn’t encompass the swirled sort of mess in his chest that accompanies all thoughts of that man. Kafka likes Stelle because she is her protégé. Ren likes peace and quiet. Silver Wolf likes digital gambling. To put those feelings on the same level as what he harbors for Dan Heng is incredibly underwhelming.
He has no interest in conveying this to Stelle though, even if she continues to stare at him like he’s yet to understand something. Though she seems completely unbothered by his lack of response, far more preoccupied with one of the bagels on her plate. Her aura of expectation is knowing but accompanied by no rush.
It feels like an age goes by till slowly and stiffly, Ren nods.
Stelle’s stare seems to intensify for a brief moment before she immediately relaxes. His nod seems to mean everything to her, and the switch of her intensity is off. She flips him an easy thumbs up and disposes of another bagel with baffling speed and efficiency.
“Cool,” she says through a mouthful. “If you do anything stupid though, watch out.”
“That’s it?”
Stelle nods. “Yeah, unless you needed me to pass you the butter or something?”
Ren can only imagine the face he’s making. It feels uncomfortable to wear. But f*cking seriously? Stelle squints at him judgmentally.
“I think you’re cool,” she says, as if that’s an explanation. “Your brand is intense or whatever, but I can tell you’re just a softy. I just had to check in and make sure, you know. But you care about him, right? Dan Heng?”
He has no obligation to answer but he does. Strange magnetism and all that.
“I do,” Ren nods.
Stelle nods content, and Ren doesn’t know where he stands but feels his shoulders sink back to a normal level. Business settled the breakfast continues rather uneventful; his muffin is disappointing, but the memories of the night before are still nice enough to add some sweetness. They don’t say anything else, but Stelle shoots him finger guns as she leaves.
Ren thinks that means he passed.
---
CHAMPION OF THE GALAXY (AND BATS)· @takeultimateToTheFACE
met up with @blADE today. he’s a cool guy (￢‿￢)
nina is AT HSR DAY 3· @astraldistressmember
OMG LMAO…. Stelle about Blade…… for anyone familiar with her review style this is DEVESTATING—good luck bladieeeeeee #AE #SH
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wrys / comms closed· @peevedbaldhealer
???? devastating as in good or bad? i haven’t been following that long, I don’t really get it. would suck if my favorite creators disliked one another.
Dan Heng· @cold_dragonyoung
@takeultimateToTheFACE How many times must I ask you to be normal?
BOOM! · @Kafka
It seems like my favorites are getting along. How adorable…
---
The rest of the day passes in a muddled blur. It seems an eternity and an instant before he’s sitting on Kafka’s bed. An hour remains before the gala and the hotel room is flooded with the scent of heating irons and hairspray.
Silver Wolf pokes her half-curled hair out to give him a quick once over. Her evident disgust with what she sees is more than clear.
“You still look happy,” she grouses. “It’s really gross. Learn how to smile normally if you’re going to play loverboy.”
She cackles as Ren flips her off. Kafka’s laughter in comparison is far more melodic when it drifts through the doorway.
“Are you still angry with me Bladie?”
Ren glares at her reflection in the mirror, the way she smiles smugly as she finishes the details of her makeup. Her hair is pulled up off her neck, with delicate strands curled to frame her face carefully falling out the front. Her composure is enviable and insulting.
“I wasn’t angry with you.”
“You look so convincing,” Silver Wolf snorts.
Ren allows his glare to twist even further and settle into a nice grimace. Silver Wolf, as always, shows no signs of guilt. She just finishes smoothing the collar of her vest, making sure everything is neat and in-line, so she can mess it up stylishly. Care without looking like it—her to a tee.
Kafka sweeps into the main room, seemingly finished with her routine. She’s a divine figure, all put-together, and it’s a lucky thing for everyone else than Himeko already holds all her attention. Any other time and place, Kafka would be a weapon. In a stuffy hotel room, she’s just a beauty drumming her neatly painted fingernails along Ren’s shoulder blade with a knowing smile.
“We just want you to be happy, remember? You needed to talk to him.”
Ren deflates slightly, “Just don’t do that again.”
Kafka laughs like a bell, her eyes twinkling. Ren doubts she’s really listening to a word he says, but unfortunately Kafka is always right, so what does it matter in the end.
“I would never,” she says, a practiced liar. “Now come into the bathroom so I can help touch you up.”
He follows her warily through the door and under the bright lights above the hotel sink. It’s not a flattering position, the mirror shows him looking washed out, nervous, and vulnerable. Words he never wants associated with his person.
The tabletop looks like an explosion has taken place, overflowing with pins and brushes and small black containers. Kafka navigates it effortlessly, picking up and shaking a bottle of eyeliner in summons. Ren listens dutifully, and with his eyes shut the world narrows back down again.
You thought I was special. I always cared for you. I missed it too.
(Dan Heng. Dan Heng. Dan Heng.)
He still hasn’t made sense of all of it, probably won’t make sense of all of it even with all the time in the world. Humans are irrational creatures, worse when they’re in pain. Ren knows that better than most. It’s easy for him to sit here now and say Dan Heng should’ve told him—should’ve just sucked up his pride.
But doesn’t he do the same thing?
Ren never read the texts. Ren never reached back out. Humans are irrational creatures, and the one thing in all of this that does make sense is how he feels when he’s with Dan Heng. Like he’s a bit more himself, like life is somewhat easier to navigate. Ren feels his mouth flatten, his expression flat like the perfect line Kafka is drawing along his eyelids.
Why is he wasting time justifying things? It’s clear what he wants, what he intends to do. He can only hope Dan Heng feels the same.
(Dan Heng. Dan Heng. Dan Heng.)
Kafka gently taps the underside of his chin with a content hum. “You’re done.”
Ren nods stiffly and moves out of the way. When his eyes catch again on his reflection it’s more favorable— still vulnerable, but sharper, more put together.
But something is still missing.
Ren used to have a couple piercings, a collection from when he was younger. He’d thought they were nice, still does, but after a while of daily wear, they’d annoyed the hell out of him. Multiple accessories had dwindled down to none over time, but maybe tonight he could make an exception.
He slips back into his own room for most of what he’d spent the day working on. Utilizing idle hands and a wandering heart for creations was common practice, and on a day like today, when there was nothing left to do, his hands had more than enough energy to put the feelings of everything into something.Something like a long-lost earring prototype, changed to fit the times.
It’s more intricate now, meant to be shared between two people. Ren wears one, and its partner sits snugly in his side pocket.The metal is smooth on his skin, and horribly cold but it feels like it belongs there. Not unlike frigid fingers in the dead of night.
When he steps back into the hallway, Sam gives him a passing glance, pausing but not speaking when his eyes catch on the jewelry. He looks nice too, closer in attire to Ren, a simple suit with sharp bursts of color. They lean together against the wall and talk quietly about the event till the girls join them in the hallway.
Kafka catches onto his game immediately. Her eyes catch on the silver in his ear, and her mouth quirks when she meets his eyes.Silver Wolf could care less. She marches straight up to Ren, links her arm with his and demands he lead her to the elevator. Their chatter takes up the entirety of the hall, annoying and wonderfully familiar.
(Isn’t it nice, being known?)
---
Lead Researcher Asta · @Asta_HSR
Hello everyone!
As the night winds down and we come to the conclusion of this year’s event, I’d like to take the time to say once more, thank you! This event is always jampacked, but this year has been more fun than ever before! Speaking as myself, and not an employee, you all have been shining stars the past few weeks!
l
Lead Researcher Asta · @Asta_HSR
While our social activity may slow down, know that we’ll be putting your support to good use! Research is already in progress for the next big thing. Stay in touch!
P.S. Keep a lookout for tonight’s Gala photos!
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Arlan - Security · @peppysowner
Thank you for your hard work, Lady Asta. Next time let us help you more.
---
It’s shocking how beautiful a standard hotel banquet room has managed to become.
In place of the overheads, the room is brightened by tons upon tons of delicate string lights strewn about the space. The achieved effect is like that of thousands of stars brightening up the area, cloaking the guests in an exclusive galaxy. It’s warm and inviting, and the lights twinkle to further the imitation. Round tables dot the room too, each supporting their own elaborate flower arrangements. Blooming roses, and precious orchids alike fill the vases in a show of beauty and wealth.
Beyond the aesthetic is a multitude of additional luxuries. There’s a long table laden with a luxurious spread of food, and a bar in the back with a glittering fountain of some warm-colored beverage. At the front of the room is a live band, instrumentalists smiling as they accompany a swaying young woman with a gentle smile and clear voice.
In the face of it all, Ren isn’t sure what to do.
Kafka and Silver Wolf have already deserted him. Himeko is already trapped upon the dance floor by the former their skirts spinning in battle, and the latter is poking at the buffet with the pink-haired Express member. Even Sam has left him in the dust, somewhere in the crowd after mentioning something about talking with Stelle.
Ren supposes the wall is fine enough. It gives a good view of the whole room, the entrance especially. Not that that’s of any concern to him.
(It’s just that he hasn’t seen Dan Heng anywhere, despite the rest of his Astral companions stealing all of his own.)
Faces and bodies pour forth, some in dresses and others in suits, and Ren categorizes them all in a clean system. There’s the defensive player from the Belobog team, far more bashful when removed from a computer screen. Later followed by Fu Xuan, elegant and consistent in her airs of superiority and dressed in a gown that sweeps the floor. Most interesting is a pair that seems rather mismatched: a blonde man in an ostentatious getup dragging another with dark hair alongside him, oblivious to the fact that each time he looks away his sullen companion seems to study him fondly.
More come through, though none the one that Ren is looking for; it’s only when a deviant appears that his search halts. His vision is obscured by said deviant, a pleasant face with white hair. If he had been blinding the night of the creator’s dinner, then he is something else altogether tonight. His ensemble is white and gold again but with devastating additions of red this evening. He looks powerful, completely in control of the room, and surely capable of compelling anyone to do his bidding.
Ren grimaces when Jing Yuan extends a regal hand.He’s wearing the smile, the one that signals he intends trouble.
“Care to dance, Ren?”
Ren looks off to the side so as to avoid the piercing gaze he knows Jing Yuan intends to weaponize. “Are you determined to cause a scene?”
“Of course not,” Jing Yuan laughs. The sound is bright and full, sparkling more than the glittering decorations. “Besides, nothing we do could come close to garnering the attention that those ladies over there have.”
Ren follows Jing Yuan’s hand over to the sight of two women with purple hair engaged in an intimate dance. They move gracefully, as though immersed in their own world. It’s hypnotizing— show-stealing.
It unfortunately means Jing Yuan has a valid point.
Ren begrudgingly takes his hand and follows him out to the edge of the floor. The music spins through the air, and Jing Yuan is nothing but the perfect gentleman as they sway.
“Are you looking for something?” Jing Yuan questions. “Someone, perhaps?”
“No.”
The answer is sharp and definitive. It enters the air in stark contrast to the soft flowing rhythm of the night’s music. Jing Yuan seems not the least deterred.
“But Dan Heng—” he begins with a charming smile. Ren immediately rebrands Jing Yuan as the worst brat in the room.
“What about him?” He grits out.
“You are, of course, not looking for him, but have you mended things? You seem… lighter, my friend.”
Ren falters slightly, a noticeable weakness to one as keen as Jing Yuan. He prays he has not spent the night making the same lovesick expression Silver Wolf has been accusing him of the past two days.Jing Yuan makes no pause in their dance, but his excitement is palpable.
“Well, Ren?” Jing Yuan asks. He’s preening, the insufferable, insolent brat.
“I am not above crushing your foot beneath my heel, Jing Yuan.”
“Violence need not always be the first option,” he laughs.
“It’s the fastest.”
Ren emphasizes his point with a misstep, lingering dangerously close to the squishy material of Jing Yuan’s dress shoes.
“Point taken,” Jing Yuan hums. “I’ll pry no further, but it pleases me to see you well.”
They make a gentle square around the room, agile in their movements. Ren has not danced in a long while, but Jing Yuan is a surprisingly competent partner. The lights flicker in and out, stars in the fabricated sky winking a little secret for those in the room.
“I’ve been fine,” Ren says.
Jing Yuan nods, his hair swishing as he turns them in a slight spin. “Perhaps,” he agrees, “but life is meant to be more than just fine.”
Ren snorts, but a little fizz of gold bolts within his chest. Jing Yuan always had been the brightest among them, in attitude and intelligence.
“Since when were you a philosopher?”
“I’ve had to mature quite a lot,” the brat smiles. Something sad lingers behind his eyes, an emotion Ren has no wish to linger on. “Clearly there needed to be one wise one amongst us all.”
Their dance comes to a close as the melody dies down. Jing Yuan releases him and drops gracefully into a polite bow. It might be respectful were it not for the sh*t-eating grin accompanying the gesture.
“Thank you for the honor of your company Ren.”
Ren rolls his eyes at the theatrics. “Enough,” he says as Jing Yuan tilts his head in false innocence. “But… thank you.”
If words could capture the look upon Jing Yuan’s face, they would try to describe something like the sun and would still fall short. Jing Yuan is just insufferable like that, defying description— his finest trait, in Ren’s opinion.
(He’s had too much emotional honesty recently, but eventually he’ll tell Jing Yuan about his importance in Ren’s life. He may be a brat, but he’s Ren’s brat.)
Jing Yuan leaves with his solar warmth, and megawatt grin and strangely, Ren does not feel the chill of his absence as harshly as he would have expected. Still, he is very much alone. The others have all remained occupied, and even as the room filled up there are few guests who linger along the edges like he does now.
There are the beginnings of panic starting to bubble up. Had Dan Heng regretted his honesty? Did he doubt Ren—and if he did, was he right to do so? Ren pulls at the edges of his cufflinks. His moping and wanting will do nothing for the situation.
(It is out of his hands, but he has never trusted another pair more.)
The soft vocalist in the back shifts into a jazzier number, energetic and bright when Ren finally, finally sees him.
(Dan Heng. Dan Heng. Dan Heng.)
Dan Heng is ethereal, but more importantly he is here.
His entrance draws attention, several attendees coming to a stop to stare at the man. He almost seems to glow, wearing a white top with long flowing sleeves that fall atop his darker pants. Accents of blue adorn the outfit in the form of ribbons and careful embroidery, and it makes his every movement like the gentle swell of the ocean, like he knows exactly where and when he will fall and rise again. Glittering lights shine against his waters, and he is the picture of perfection—Ren knows he is not biased to say so. Not as men and women alike look toward him in awe.
Dan Heng shows no signs of reciprocation. A man with black and white hair approaches him with a large grin, only to turn away with a sharp grin in a matter of moments. Even Jing Yuan is rebuffed after a glorious bout of laughter.
Dan Heng is focused, and Ren is not sure on what though he is compelled to find out. Yet he can’t find it within himself to move from his spot or take his eyes off Dan Heng. The decision is made for him, however, when Dan Heng starts his journey.
He drifts through the crowd, gauzy bits of his outfit fluttering as he moves. It’s an age before he stops, turning his head to stare directly at Ren as though he’s known from the start exactly where he is. Maybe he has.
Ren stares back without remorse. He drinks the sight in lest is be pulled away from him after this night is over. The green of his eyes are brilliant as always, accentuated by the lining of red— there are no words, but there is a conversation all the same. The meaning behind it is clear enough: Follow.
Ren knows himself well enough, there’s nowhere Dan Heng could go that he wouldn’t be right behind. Besides, he is all too eager to be away from the chatter and numerous eyes.
He feels smug as he sweeps out the room, unable to suppress the self-satisfied smile that he is the one picked by the night’s most precious star. He is chosen, he is the lucky one, blessed by the moon and stars and the all-important Imbibitor Lunae.
He follows Dan Heng out towards the balcony again, entranced by the way the fabric of his outfit moves as Dan Heng puts his strength to work on the massive glass doors. Outside, a plethora of radiant stars and a bright moon are the only accompaniment. Bereft of the artificial glow and buzzing crowd, it’s a drastic switch from the interior.
A little place, just for them. To hide, and to hold secrets and truths between one another. Tonight, the smell of flowers from down below is a welcome gift, the breeze’s gentle as they carry their encouragement on the wind.
Dan Heng leans against the stone balcony, just like when he last approached him here, but tonight he is a picture of languid beauty. There is no heaviness or absence of light, only the entrancing beauty of Dan Heng. He could almost be mistaken for art were it not for the way he worries his lip, the smallest tell for Ren to obsess over. Sharp teeth and delicate flesh. Ren licks at his lips without much conscious thought.
Dan Heng’s eyes lock onto the movement, and while his expression is hard to categorize it’s undeniably one of interest. Ren feels his smugness return in full force, more at peace with himself and his urges.
“Do you see something you like, dragon?”
Ren expects a deflection, or a bit of banter to bite down upon. He is not prepared for the blatant honesty in Dan Heng’s expression, or the slow tilt of his head as he surveys the entirety of Ren’s form. He gives a soft and serene little grin when he meets Ren’s eyes again, like he is not a devious creature of temptation.
“Indeed,” he whispers.
Ren’s heart is obnoxiously loud within his chest, the blood in his ears and the heady feeling of flight and falling starting to fill him up. Dan Heng is different tonight, empowered and proud where he is typically reserved. Ren is eager to toe the line, to push their boundaries. Perhaps it is skipping a few steps, but they have both wanted for so long.
“How blatant,” Ren murmurs tilting his head, “though I can’t blame you.”
There’s an electric pause as Dan Heng sizes him up once again. The result is not revealed to him, only the sound of fabric rustling as Dan Heng surges forward all at once.
“Arrogant,” Dan Heng huffs before grabbing his lapels and pulling him in close. Ren can feel every hot puff of air passed between them, as though they are creating their own atmosphere.
They are excruciatingly close, eyes locked upon one another. The only thing to distract his attention is the pleasant alternative of Dan Heng’s mouth. It’s soft and inviting—and Ren would like to meet it. It would be so easy to lean forward. Dan Heng has always made things so easy.
The electricity cracks through the barely-there space between them, it makes it clear that there are rules. Ren is not the hunter in this situation. His role now is obedience. Submission. He owes that much to Dan Heng. To show that his trust is restored, to let him know that he would willingly offer his neck for whatever desire Dan Heng might have. Over and over, Dan Heng had put himself forwards for Ren only to be missed—tonight will not be a repeat.
Ren stays still, and drags his eyes back up to the green, he allows himself to be an offering. He would worship every bit of Dan Heng, stand at his altar everyday should he have the opportunity. Dan Heng still looks perfectly placid, as though he is unbothered by everything between them, as though his power leaves them on different dimensions.
(But Ren can see the slightest pink upon the back of his neck, and that is how he knows it is Dan Heng. Dan Heng, that is his chosen god to follow. Ren is ecstatic but obedient, he will not bark now.)
“Do you have something to say to me?” Dan Heng asks carefully.
Ren has many a thing to say, on a sliding scale of explicitness, though he is not a wordsmith by any means. He is overwhelmed with the sugary emotions of tender fondness and longing, the way it combines with the sharper heat of raw desire.
(How much could he say if he had the gift of eloquence like Jing Yuan? If he had the bravery of someone who could whisper the truth of three words…?)
He pitches his voice lower, “It’s good to see you again. You look… good.”
“Only good?” Dan Heng’s mouth quirks in amusem*nt.
Ren watches as he raises a slender arm, sleeves falling, and gently grips Ren’s chin. It probably looks ridiculous with the height difference between them, but Ren couldn’t care less. Dan Heng’s touch shoots through him, the possession behind it hot and intoxicating. And better than any of that, is the way the gesture draws Ren’s eyes to the silver shining under the moonlight.
Even in the gorgeous outfit he wears, on a night for formality, Dan Heng still wears Ren’s gift—still holds a piece of him against his skin. That more than anything else excites Ren, cuts off the majority of his logical thought. The paired earring burns in his pocket, and Dan Heng burns him further with an intense stare signaling his intense expectation.
Ren grasps the wrist close to his face, moving Dan Heng’s hand to rest against his cheek instead. He runs his thumb along the metal of the bracelet. “More than good,” he whispers. “Beautiful.”
Dan Heng’s eyes alight with a pleased hum. “You said we could pick up where we left off,” he begins, “but what about moving forward?”
Thump. Thump. Thump.
(Ren is greedy. If he does not reign himself in, he will take, and take, and take.)
(Dan Heng. Dan Heng. Dan Heng.)
“If that’s what you want,” he answers.
Dan Heng frowns, “I want to hear you say it.”
His countenance shows confidence, but there is a vulnerability behind it. The hand still cradling his cheek shakes ever so slightly.
Say you want me, it says, grant the permission and pick me. I missed you, it says, I always cared. Tell me it was the same for you.
“It’s what I want,” Ren says, and he has never been surer of anything in his life. “Everything. That’s what I want from you.”
All the tension releases from Dan Heng’s body, and if Ren thought him beautiful before, then he is struck dumb by how stunning he is with a smile spreading across his face. They had once brought a storm down upon this balcony, but tonight they are a beautiful thing. They are rain on a summer night, not too cold or warm—a relief and a hidden wonder.
Dan Heng’s eyes linger on his lips again, and Ren laughs darkly but it does nothing to scare him off. Instead, the stars in his eyes expand and brighten. They were always bound to collide.
When their mouths meet Ren is enthralled.
If he’s frank, it’s like when they had slept alongside each other— anticlimactic. But not for any negative reason—it is only anticlimactic because of his adoration, the security in their motions. His body knows the action and feels relaxed with Dan Heng so close. It’s as though he’s coming home and sewing something back up all at once.
This moment, like all of them, is fleeting. But what does it matter when right now his tongue licks at the soft lips and mouth offered to him? Sure, in no time, the physical moment will be over, but the familiarity between them feels infinite. A bit of this moment will never end. This short existence with Dan Heng becomes all of them and extends itself into the future and past with no hesitation.
It’s seared into whatever fundamental thing makes him him.
Where Ren would’ve once only seen futility in chasing something that ends, he now sees a chance to start anew. Ren ends one kiss chasing forward immediately for another, as though horribly starved, and only finding a means to sate himself in what Dan Heng is willing to offer.
They break apart only to breathe, a pesky necessity, panting heavily into one another’s mouth. Even that separation is too much. Ren wants to press himself into Dan Heng until there is no space between them ever again, digitally, or physically or emotionally. He settles with resting their foreheads together.
This is a person who knows him. Ren dares to hope that this is a person who loves him, because Ren knows his feelings for what they are. He loves Dan Heng. He loves him with a fire that will not be doused, and he can’t say it, not yet.
(Dan Heng. Dan Heng. Dan Heng.)
Ren tries to pour his feelings into their kisses, turning hunger and desperation into all of his gratitude and admiration. Dan Heng follows his lead with a sigh, and they sink into something softer and slower. Indulgence in its heavenly form.
Heavenly until icicles slide around the vulnerable flesh of his neck.It’s a shock back to reality, a break from their little private bubble.
Ren pulls away with extreme reluctance. “Your fingers are f*cking cold,” he snipes.
Dan Heng looks unconcerned. In fact, his answering grin is downright sinful. “Warm them up then,” he says cheekily.
Ren loves Dan Heng. Dan Heng. Dan Heng.
Ren can only offer him one final out. He is a weak man, and he knows they have other more important things, but there is nothing more important than Dan Heng and the heat of his body, and the feel of his mouth, and the sound of his heart.
Ren’s voice is still low, not even with direct effort anymore. The wind swirls around them and the flowers are no longer sweet but sensual, a potent draught of floral intoxication. “Can you handle that?” he asks.
Dan Heng reduces the space between them in a second, hands diving into Ren’s hair and teeth biting at his lower lip. He kisses fervently, and Ren is left speechless, gasping into Dan Heng’s mouth only to have it immediately swallowed up. The cheeky bastard even pulls at his hair, earning an unabashed moan. When he pulls away, Dan Heng is heaving and triumphant. His eyes rake across Ren’s face, admiring his work and the mouth he’s no doubt left swollen and spit-slicked.
The devious creature smiles again, a dragon and a snake all-in-one, “Can you?”
Ren’s answer comes in the form of grabbing him with the gentlest force he can muster. The journey to the elevator and beyond is anything but frigid.It’s frenzied, feral, and everything Ren has ever wanted in his life.
Everything is Dan Heng, Dan Heng, Dan Heng, and now Ren gets to insert his own name into the chorus.
For the first time since arriving, Ren thanks Elio for the foresight of granting him his own room.
---
while u got bitches, i was studying THE blADE· @People_Breaker
@littlegui @littlegui @littlegui @littlegui GUI I LOVE YOU GIRL BUT IM DYING. YOU’VE INTERVIEWED EVERYONE BUT BLADE PLEASE WHERE IS HE. I MISS HIM. IS HE OK?
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｡೨⋆ Guinaifen ⋆೨｡· @littlegui
OMG I couldn’t find Blade or Cold Dragon Young anywhere at the event and believe me I LOOKED! I do have tons of other interviews and photos up though, I hope you’ll still check them out!!! #HSR (°ロ°) !
Destiny’s Slaves· @StellaronHunters
Looks like our future is intertwined… take a look at our photos ft. @theastralexpress; strange bedfellows indeed. #HSR #AE #SH
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May this Journey Lead us Starward!· @theastralexpress
Everyone looks so fancy! Pom-Pom definitely wants to be included in the next photoshoot! (♡°▽°♡)
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lei me down gently · @cupofwater26
This is so cute!! The collaboration has come so far! But where’s Blade and Dan Heng?
THE BLADES DRAGON (NOT DELUSIONAL)· @moonmoonmoonmoon
guys the recent posts……IM JUST SAYING
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THE BLADES DRAGON (NOT DELUSIONAL)· @moonmoonmoonmoon
THEY HAD IGNORED ME. THEY WERE SAYING I WAS DELUSIONAL. THEY COUNTED ME OUT. THEY WERE SAYING I WAS COPING JUST FOR SEEING THE CONNECTIONS. THEY SAID I WAS PARASOCIAL. HOW WILL YOU RESPOND NOW??????????? #bladesdragon #dragonsblade #REAL
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old man yaoi· @bladesedger
you may be right, but you’re still parasocial bestie LMAO
