Chapter Text
It was getting close to the end for Mu Qing, but he still had to attend college classes. He had to study. Or else he would fail, and it would all be pointless. He sat himself at the low table on a Saturday. The new year was beginning to kick up in time for Cuo Cuo to attend a kindergarten class. In the same school Mu Qing worked at.
Cuo Cuo got curious. He stumbled around and made his way to sit aside Mu Qing. Then he leaned over, his eyes innocently scanning the large numbers and words on Mu Qing’s papers.
“What’s that?” he asked.
“Big boy work,” Mu Qing answered. “Too big for you.”
“I’m a big kid!” Cuo Cuo defended. He stood up from where he was, putting his fists on his hips. As Feng Xin’s did, Cuo Cuo’s eyebrows knitted inwards as he glared at Mu Qing. And it only made Mu Qing laugh, but he didn’t bother covering anything up. He tossed his head back, his laugh erupting through the house, and he snagged Cuo Cuo to get him to sit down in his lap.
“Sure you are,” Mu Qing said. “Here. I’ll show you some beginner stuff so that you’re way ahead of your new classmates. How about that?”
In the middle of Mu Qing’s little lesson to Cuo Cuo, Feng Xin got home from classes. He got lucky that day. Only a couple of classes, no work. So, he wasn’t exhausted when he stepped into the living room. He was able to keep quiet and listen, hearing how Mu Qing spoke to his son.
It was cute. Heartbreakingly cute, listening to how Cuo Cuo would hum in response to Mu Qing’s words innocently ask him questions and saying the craziest things as kids tended to do. What made it worse was Mu Qing’s laughter that he didn’t care to cover up because he was under the impression it was only him and Cuo Cuo. Feng Xin could hear it bouncing off the walls and now rattling inside of his head.
I have to stop being a fucking creep, Feng Xin thought before a deep breath as he stepped into the room. He walked over, acting normal, not like his heart was beating faster than it should have been, and lowered himself to sit at the table with his son and housemate—crush. Whatever. He was a grown man but crush.
Mu Qing took note of him by passing him a quick glance of surprise, but his attention went back to Cuo Cuo when the young kid started pointing at his papers asking more questions. Of course, Mu Qing answered in a simple enough way for a five-year-old to understand. He gave him something to do on his own and set Cuo Cuo off to the side. Feng Xin took it as his chance to speak up.
“You work a lot,” he said.
Mu Qing looked at him. “What?”
“You work too much,” Feng Xin repeated. “You need a break.”
“Didn’t we go somewhere last week?” Mu Qing grumbled looking to what Cuo Cuo was doing to avert his eyes away from Feng Xin considering where they went was a clear D-A-T-E.
“Fine,” Feng Xin said with a shrug sitting up a bit to act more matter-of-factly. “But you’re still getting over this concussion, so fucking take it easy, would you?”
Mu Qing scoffed. “I am not. I’m perfectly fine.”
“You should listen to your doctor,” Feng Xin said with a grin.
“Piss off,” Mu Qing said through his teeth.
“You’re staying here tomorrow to rest up more,” Feng Xin said ignoring Mu Qing’s threat. He stood up from the table and did a long, exaggerated stretch. “While I take Cuo Cuo in for his first day and to meet the principal.”
“Obviously,” Mu Qing muttered quietly, sounding kind of sad as he added, “you’re his papa after all.” Feng Xin wanted to say something, but he chose not to. You’re as much to him as I am to him, but he bit back on his tongue for the night.
In his little suit, Cuo Cuo looked adorable, but the expression on his face was laced with fear. Feng Xin sighed remembering when he was stressed out when he was a kid on his first day of school and patted his son comfortably on the back. He calmed down a little, but his eyebrows were still knitted in tightly as he entered the principal’s office.
Cuo Cuo did fine meeting the kind woman. Young with blue-grey hair and gorgeous. She introduced herself as Ling Wen. Right away, she clicked with Cuo Cuo, comforting him that everything would be okay. When she looked at Feng Xin she spoke in a different, more-professional tone. He was glad she was so nice to Cuo Cuo given how scared he was.
After meeting the principal, it was time for Cuo Cuo to head to his first day of class. She declared he would be a fine fit. Cuo Cuo said his goodbye to Feng Xin and was guided out of the room by another school staff member.
That left Feng Xin alone with Ling Wen. She leaned back in his chair eyes narrowing down on Feng Xin. He swallowed. Hard. He had to be careful what he said for his son’s future.
“Don’t need to be so stiff, Feng Xin.”
That didn’t help.
“I only kept you here because I wanted to ask you about a second guardian listed for Cuo Cuo.”
“Second guardian?” Feng Xin’s shoulders dropped a little. “His mother isn’t in the picture anymore,” he informed without a second of hesitation. She didn’t want to be in his life, so she fucking won’t be. He mentally scoffed. Not that I even have her damn number anymore.
“We like to keep a second number on file in the case we are unable to reach you,” Ling Wen informed him. “Is there anybody else at all that you can think of that you want to list? They don’t have to be related to Cuo Cuo or anything of that sort. It can just be a person that you trust.”
“Uh,” Feng Xin thought for a moment. Right. Yeah. “I do,” he spoke up.
“Can I get a name and phone number, and relation to him and you?”
“Well, it’s—” Feng Xin paused, “he works here. The teacher aide in—hell, I think it’s grade three.”
“Mu Qing?” Ling Wen asked.
Feng Xin nodded, “Yes.”
She lightly chuckled. “That was another thing I wanted to discuss with you.” Feng Xin was confused, and he waited for her to continue. “Mu Qing was the one who spoke up for Cuo Cuo to be enrolled here. I trust him quite a lot, so I was pretty ease with Cuo Cuo’s transfer here.
“I was also going to question you about Mu Qing and who he was to Cuo Cuo,” she ended with.
Feng Xin bit his lip. What is Mu Qing to me? What is Mu Qing to Cuo Cuo? “He—” Feng Xin froze. “He’s my housemate. We live together. Cuo Cuo looks up to him,” Feng Xin added quietly. “A lot.”
“Then I believe that’s all I need,” Ling Wen said. “I already had his information, so I’ll have it transferred over for Cuo Cuo. You’re free to leave, Feng Xin.”
By the time that Feng Xin got back, Xie Lian was at their place. He raised a glass to Feng Xin while he stepped in. Meanwhile, Feng Xin raised an eyebrow. Then Mu Qing, sitting at the table across from him, looked over as well.
“You look like you need a drink,” Mu Qing commented. He suddenly stood up from the table and headed into the living room. “I’ll make you something.”
Feng Xin was a bit taken aback, but he had to admit, the gesture made his heart swoon. He wouldn’t say anything. Not if he wanted Mu Qing to keep up the habit.
But to make things terrible, Xie Lian stared at him with a grin. Feng Xin squinted at him while he made his way into the living room. He plopped down on the couch, lifted his leg onto his knee, and crossed his arms. Feng Xin’s dark eyes bore into Xie Lian. Enough to send shivers down Xie Lian’s spine.
Xie Lian shook his head and placed a hand over his check as if Feng Xin smacked him, then he glanced over. “What?” he asked in a small pout.
“What is it about him?” Feng Xin suddenly asked in a whisper.
“What do you mean?” Xie Lian asked accompanied by a couple of blinks.
“I think he’s irritating most of the time, but fuck, I actually like the little things that he does,” Feng Xin muttered. His teeth chewed the inside of his cheek. “I mean he yells at me all the time for being messy and unkept, but I fucking listen to him what he tells me. What does that make me?”
“It makes you into him. You like him, Feng Xin.” Xie Lian shifted closer, speaking lowly as well considering Mu Qing was only in the kitchen. “Any signs to you that he might feel the same way?”
Feng Xin thought about telling Xie Lian about the beauty salon. Mu Qing’s hands massaging his face, soft, careful, gentle movements. It was heaven. Feng Xin wouldn’t tell Xie Lian.
So, Feng Xin shook his head.
“I’m sure he’ll come around,” Xie Lian sighed while leaning back in his chair. “He warmed up to me.”
“You’re a pretty fucking easy person to get along with,” Feng Xin pointed out.
Xie Lian shrugged. “Whatever. I think he likes you.” He backed up and returned to his spot. “I’m telling you to go for it.”
Feng Xin rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Why are you here?” he asked.
“Mu Qing was showing me a face care routine,” Xie Lian answered.
“Because he cares about his skin,” said a voice as they entered the living room. A glass was placed in front of Feng Xin before someone sat next to him.
“I fucking care about my skin.”
Mu Qing grinned as he lifted his own glass he brought to his lips, smirking against the rim. “Not enough.”
Since they were on the topic of it with Xie Lian’s visit, Feng Xin gave the skin care routine another go once Xie Lian had gone. Feng Xin took in long stand in front of the bathroom mirror. His hair smelled of the new soaps that Mu Qing forced him to put in the bathroom after he threw out the three-in-one. When Mu Qing saw it, it looked like he wanted to burn it, tying the bag right away and taking it outside. Feng Xin didn’t think that it had been that bad.
Now, there was a face routine that Mu Qing was forcing him to do. He sighed and looked in the small box of face masks and creams. Can I at least get a set of instructions? Feng Xin had no idea where to start and Mu Qing would know if he did it wrong. He sighed and looked through all the different bottles.
“What the fuck? Come on,” he muttered to himself. “There’s so much shit.”
“You need help.”
Feng Xin quickly snapped his head up. “Don’t you have your own fucking bathroom?” he hissed.
Mu Qing leaned against the doorway of the bathroom, crossed arms, and raising an eyebrow at Feng Xin’s confusion. There was the smallest hint of a grin on his face. He stepped in and walked over putting his back to the counter while facing Feng Xin.
Over Mu Qing’s shoulder, Feng Xin could see the two of them in the mirror. Mu Qing in front of him, hair brushed out and tied back into a high ponytail ready to be taken out right before bed, the t-shirt on his back—this one wasn’t filled with holes, but at least he was comfortable to wear something baggy in front of Feng Xin. The shorts weren’t too short like they were last time, Feng Xin noted.
The other reached into the box and pulled out a small tube. He boosted himself onto the counter and waved for Feng Xin to step closer, so Feng Xin did. Feng Xin wasn’t going to wait for Mu Qing to tell him to close his eyes. He did, but he wished Mu Qing would let him look at him. The way he was so close to him, and he didn’t know how many times Mu Qing would allow him to be—he wanted to take advantage of it and hold onto it.
The feeling that chilled down Feng Xin’s face when he felt Mu Qing press his fingers into his cheeks. They first dragged back and forth to smear the face cream around before he started rubbing it in the circle motions he had before, massaging it into Feng Xin’s skin.
“Cuo Cuo’s first day,” Mu Qing began to say, “he had fun.”
Feng Xin nearly forgot all about it with Mu Qing standing in front of him touching his face—so close. Cuo Cuo must have only gotten back a few minutes before Mu Qing walked in. Oh, Mu Qing had to deal with Madam Feng without Feng Xin. But he quickly shook away the thought of his hardass mother.
Out of curiosity of Cuo Cuo’s day, he raised his eyebrows, but Mu Qing slapped the side of face.
“Relax your face,” he said. His hands moved up the sides of Feng Xin’s face massaging into his temples. Feng Xin hummed in the back of his throat. Though he couldn’t see it, Mu Qing’s face flushed a shade of red when he heard it. He thanked the Heavens Feng Xin had his eyes closed. “I think he already found a friend too.”
“Does he want to be in your class?” Feng Xin questioned feeling Mu Qing’s fingers begin to brush back his hair from his face. Then there was the feeling of the face cream on his forehead.
“I think so,” Mu Qing said. His hands carefully dragged down his face to his cheeks, and then to his jaw. Feng Xin tilted his chin up more, a smiling forming on his face. He moved his arms forward resting his palms on the counter outside of Mu Qing’s legs, caging him in. But Mu Qing didn’t comment about it, and Feng Xin still couldn’t see his face. He wanted to take a peek.
Mu Qing’s delicate fingers trailed his jawline, and then his thumbs would push back. Suddenly, he stopped, and Feng Xin opened his eyes. Mu Qing had his body slightly turned to the side to rip open a small package. He pulled out a small, gel-like pad and raised it. When he was facing him, Feng Xin noticed how flushed his face was. The ears were the worst part. Feng Xin wanted to cup his hands over them.
He never had enough time to decide whether or not to do it when Mu Qing stuck the pads under his eyes overtop of the dark bags.
“You need to get sleep.”
“Being a fucking college kid makes that hard to do.”
“And a dad,” Mu Qing added. He picked up a hairbrush and lightly brushed out Feng Xin’s damp hair.
“You help me a shit ton too,” Feng Xin said. “You’re pretty fucking amazing at it.”
“Stop,” Mu Qing mumbled. For a second his hands paused in Feng Xin’s hair, but they resumed after a moment. He had to reach behind him to gather more, his body getting closer to Feng Xin. It moved Feng Xin to nearly breath on his neck, and Feng Xin watched as Mu Qing bit his lip while backing away. “I do little.”
“Bullshit. Quit being so fucking humble. It’ll piss me off.”
Mu Qing glared him. But the only thing he did was reach forward to fix the pad that was slipping down Feng Xin’s face. “Quit talking so much,” he said. “Don’t kill yourself over college and work. It’s not worth it,” he suddenly said. “I don’t want to be the one who has to tell your mother that her son is dead and drop off an orphaned grandson.”
“You’d drop off Cuo Cuo to my mother?”
“W—” Mu Qing’s movements ceased. “I mean what would you want me to do?”
Take him. That was Feng Xin’s first thought. I want you to raise him, but it would be too much too quickly. Feng Xin couldn’t say that to him. Instead, he bit his lip and lightly shook his head. “Okay.”
“What? Don’t act all affirmative about it. Fight with me on it.”
“You want me to fight with you?” Feng Xin asked.
Mu Qing chewed his lip. “I expected you to.”
“I don’t like to fucking fight with you, Mu Qing,” Feng Xin said. Mu Qing stayed quiet, pursing his lips, and peeling off the gels under his eyes. He grabbed another face cream and applied it to Feng Xin’s eyebags. “Do you fucking think I do?” he asked. Mu Qing provided an answer with a shrug.
“Did you shave?” Mu Qing switched topics.
“What?”
“Did you shave your face?”
Feng Xin scoffed, eyebrows knitting in anger because they should have talked about their arguing. They needed to. But he sighed. “Like, yesterday morning.”
The back of Mu Qing’s finger dragged alongside his chin. “You’re terrible at it. I’ll teach you later.”
“Fucking teach me?” Feng Xin easier an eyebrow.
“You can’t father Cuo Cuo and show him how to shave if you can’t do it yourself, idiot,” Mu Qing mumbled. He picked up a soft towel from the counter and patted the side of Feng Xin’s neck. “What if he hurts himself?” he added in a soft mumble.
“I know how to fucking shave,” Feng Xin said with a scoff.
“Not well,” Mu Qing said. He dropped the towel down in his lap and gripped onto it, but his other hand reached up and wiped back and forth on Feng Xin’s jaw. “It’s already coming back. You’re an amateur. Mines soft and stays that way.”
Feng Xin stood up straight, palms red from leaning on the counter the entire time. He reached over and put a hand over Mu Qing’s cheek. The other’s body went straight, but Feng Xin didn’t stop as he smoothed his thumb back forth on his cheek, then dragged it down slowly, feeling the soft skin of his face, his jaw, and finally stopping at his chin.
“Q—qu. . .” Mu Qing’s voice trailed off. He wanted to say ‘Quit touching me’ but he couldn’t get the words out. The feeling of Feng Xin’s finger trailing the shape of his face. Goosebumps lined his arms, and he found himself leaning into the touch. He slowly began to snap himself from the trance, guiding a hand up Feng Xin’s arm that reached his face to grip his wrist. “Q—quit touching me,” he finally got out.
“You were touching me that whole fucking time,” Feng Xin hissed.
“And if you told me to stop, I would’ve, but you didn’t. I did.” Mu Qing slipped off the counter. “I’m going to bed. Goodnight.”
The entire way back to his room, Mu Qing held his hand over his beating chest.
It was impossible. Mu Qing searched for his work laptop charger for ages that morning. Cuo Cuo watched him as he rushed around searching for the cord, but the house was dirty. Feng Xin. He wanted to strangle him, but there wasn’t enough time to cover up for a crime.
“Mm-Qing?”
“Huh?” Mu Qing quickly stood up, hair frizzy from looking underneath the coffee table. As he stood up, he brushed it back and attempted to fix it. “It’s fine,” he reassured. “Hurry up and eat so we can go.”
The anger in Mu Qing had to boil throughout the day. He texted Feng Xin to find his charger when he woke up and bring it to him by lunch. Not a request or a question, it was a demand. All he got was an ‘ok’ as a response.
He kept his cool in front of the kids. None of them ever found out that he was picturing his hands around Feng Xin’s throat while screaming at him that the only thing he ever asks of him is to pick up after himself and not touch Mu Qing’s things. He made it to lunchtime.
When Feng Xin arrived, Mu Qing met him in the parking lot. He appeared that he only woke up five minutes ago. His hair was all messy, considered tangled, and he wore a pair of sweatpants and sweater that had gone through at least of day of already being worn. Mu Qing cringed as he snatched the charger from Feng Xin.
“You know, this would not have been a thing if you had just kept the damn house cleaned,” Mu Qing hissed.
“W—are you really fucking yelling at me right now?” Feng Xin asked pushing his hair back. “Mu Qing, not right now.”
“Not right now?” Mu Qing scoffed. “Yeah, okay. Not right now. No, I get it. Because you have to get back to the house to drink a case of beer.”
“Can you fucking stop with that!?” Feng Xin took a step forward, and it made Mu Qing retract a step back. “What, do you want me to punch the fucking wall or something? I need a fucking stress reliever, Mu Qing.”
“Yoga! Meditation! I don’t know! Not something that’ll eventually kill you, how about that?!” Mu Qing pushed his shoulders. “Back the hell up! You’re too close. I don’t want your hot ass breath on me,” he ended in a mutter. It was almost sweet. Mu Qing was aggressively caring for him. Feng Xin nearly laughed, but he toned it down to a chuckle and shook his head.
“Yeah, whatever,” he said. “Whatever. I brought you your stupid charger, so see you.”
The more times that Mu Qing was in a classroom, the more that he picked up on the habits of teachers. He tried to take notes of how they acted, what they did, how they worded themselves. It was easy, he thought, and he had a slight feeling that he could do it better, but he didn’t dare speak his mind. Instead, he took his break and left to get a cup of coffee during lunch time.
There was no whole classroom that Mu Qing could stay in and close the door and be alone at his own desk. He was nothing more than a classroom assistant. And he didn’t want to be in the teacher’s lounge with the other adults. So, Mu Qing stuck to the hallway.
He played on his phone scrolling through whatever things he missed while being busy at work. His laptop was charging in the grade three classroom. The cup of coffee stayed at his lips, but he wasn’t drinking it much, too immersed in his media.
“A-Qing!”
Mu Qing jumped. Not many people called him ‘A-Qing.’ He was either never that close with people or people were too afraid to call out to him in such a friendly manner. As he raised his head and lowered his drink, he watched a woman walked over. She was shorter than Mu Qing by a bit, but her face was kind, and the energy that surrounded her lifted Mu Qing’s spirits a little.
“A-Qing, hey!” she said as she stopped in front of him. “You’re the classroom assistant in the grade three classroom, right?”
Mu Qing nodded.
“I’m Shi Qingxuan! I’m the kindergarten teacher.”
Right. She replaced Cuo Cuo’s old kindergarten teacher. Mu Qing never had the chance to talk to the old teacher anyhow. Shi Qingxuan was his teacher that year.
“I heard a bit about you,” Shi Qingxuan began to say. She leaned against the wall beside Mu Qing. “Is it true you got injured a couple years back when you first began?”
“Yeah,” Mu Qing answered. He clicked his phone off and put it away. “I was breaking up a fight between a couple of students.”
“That’s respectable! A teacher willing to put himself forward to protect his students,” she beamed.
Mu Qing scoffed. “I’m not a teacher.”
“Do you want to be?” Shi Qingxuan questioned.
“I—” Mu Qing paused. “Well, yeah. Eventually.”
“We should stay after together! I’ll show you some things,” she suggested. It sounded like a childish thing to say like they had to contact their parents to see if they could hang out, but Mu Qing felt oddly comfortable with the way she presented herself in such kindly manner.
“If I can,” Mu Qing mumbled, not realizing that he silently agreed.
“Mm-Qing!” Suddenly, Cuo Cuo ran up to him. He tugged at his pant sleeve. “Mm-Qing, papa said I could have cereal for dinner.”
“Dinner?” Mu Qing’s attention completely shifted to Cuo Cuo. He kneeled in front of him. There was food on his face from his lunch that he had finished. It appeared he wolfed it down to have enough time to find Mu Qing. “Why are you already asking about dinner?”
“I’m hungry.”
“You’re just like your papa,” Mu Qing said with a sigh. He pulled out a tissue from his pocket and wiped Cuo Cuo’s face. “Who is terrible at cooking. Quit asking him for what dinner is.”
“Okay,” he said, so he spoke up again, this time asking Mu Qing, “What’s for dinner?”
“Surprise.”
“Really?!” Cuo Cuo shook Mu Qing’s hand. “Tell me, tell me.”
“Nope. Go run off and play before your class begins again,” Mu Qing ordered. Cuo Cuo huffed, but he ran off, meeting another kid in the hallway.
Mu Qing rose to his feet with a sigh and crossed his arms. “Well, now I need to actually plan something,” he mumbled under his breath to himself. A sudden laugh next to him made him jump, and Mu Qing’s face burst with heat when he watched as Shi Qingxuan giggled next to him. “W—what?”
“Nothing,” she said while shaking her head. “See you, A-Qing! I hope you’ll consider what I suggested.”
After school, since Feng Xin pissing him off was still on his mind, Mu Qing didn’t return home with Cuo Cuo. Instead, he took him out to get a treat. They walked through the park. Kids were all running around since they now had their free time and weren’t locked in a classroom.
There was an ice cream stand. And Cuo Cuo hardly had to beg to get Mu Qing to buy him a cone, but he did have to promise Mu Qing that he would sit down and eat it. So, the two plopped down on a set of benches in the park. Mu Qing didn’t have an ice cream, but Cuo Cuo had a vanilla dipped in a shell of dark chocolate.
He hummed swinging his feet as he ate it. Of course, he had the chocolate in the corners of his mouth and the vanilla ice cream dripping down his chin. Mu Qing kept a napkin in his hand ready to wipe it away before it dripped down onto his shirt.
“Mm-Qing?”
“Mhm?”
“Question.”
“Go ahead,” Mu Qing said with a nod.
“I like like someone.”
Mu Qing blinked. Cuo Cuo was only five, but Mu Qing still answered with, “That’s not a question.” In response, Cuo Cuo scowled. The same way that Feng Xin would. His eyebrows sunk in, and lip pouted out. It made Mu Qing smile if anything. He takes too much after Feng Xin. “What do you mean?” Mu Qing questioned further instead.
“There’s a girl, but I’m too scared to talk to her,” Cuo Cuo said quietly.
Truly just like Feng Xin. Mu Qing cleared his throat. “Wanting to be friends with someone doesn’t necessarily mean you have a crush on her,” Mu Qing said. But Cuo Cuo blinked at him in confusion, so he put it in simple terms. “You don’t like her like that; you want to be her friend.”
“Oh.” Cuo Cuo paused. He lifted the ice cream toward Mu Qing’s face, and Mu Qing tapped his wrist for him not to aimlessly wave his food. “What about you and papa?”
“What about us?”
“Do you like like papa, or do you want to be his friend?”
Mu Qing froze. “I—” he paused and chewed his lip while he thought. It was only Cuo Cuo, and if the kid promised not to tell, Mu Qing believed he would keep his word. “Don’t tell anyone,” he warned. Cuo Cuo quickly nodded. “I—do.”
“You do!” Cuo Cuo exclaimed, but then he suddenly jumped when his ice cream melted down his hand. He tried licking it off, and Mu Qing got more napkins ready. Mu Qing began to wipe it away. He took a moment while cleaning Cuo Cuo’s face to try and figure out a way to word it that would get his point across to not only Cuo Cuo but to himself as well.
His hand crumpled up the dirty napkin, and he stared at Cuo Cuo’s face. The kid blinked at him innocently.
“I’m already friends with your papa,” Mu Qing stated. Right? he bit his lip.
“So, you like like him?” Cuo Cuo licked his ice cream. “I think he likes you.”
“Like like or likes as he wants to be my friend?” Mu Qing asked, and he then asked himself, What the hell am I doing?
“Like likes!” Cuo Cuo suddenly frowned at his ice cream. “Can I have another?”
“N—No, Cuo Cuo. You haven’t had dinner yet,” Mu Qing stuttered. “Enough talking about this. Let’s hurry and head home, okay?” Cuo Cuo nodded in response. He slipped off the bench and began walking. Mu Qing caught up to him.
Cuo Cuo ate dinner, cleaned up, finished his homework all in time for Mu Qing to sit him down in the bathroom and trim his hair. Mu Qing had mentioned Cuo Cuo’s hair would never grow if he didn’t get one, so Cuo Cuo had begged him the entire walk back to the car after their ice cream.
He brought up Cuo Cuo’s small stool in the bathroom and had the little six-year-old plop down in front of him and sit still. There were sheers in Mu Qing’s hair, a spray bottle of water, a tube of leave-in conditioner, and a small comb. Mu Qing warned him to sit still while he rested a towel on Cuo Cuo’s shoulders.
He hummed to himself lightly as he cut Cuo Cuo’s hair. The kid smiled and played a little game on Mu Qing’s phone for something to distract. Something with pixels and adventures—Mu Qing had no idea. He would swing his feet, and Mu Qing would have to pause and tell him to stop every once and a while so that Cuo Cuo didn’t accidentally get himself hurt.
Halfway through, Feng Xin found himself standing in the doorway. He leaned against it and watched as his housemate cut his son’s hair. Mu Qing didn’t know he was there. With his back to him and focused on the hair, he wouldn’t know. Neither did Cuo Cuo. So, Feng Xin made sure to clear his throat before he made his way in.
Mu Qing paused for a moment glancing over his shoulder, but he ignored Feng Xin just as fast and resumed to trimming Cuo Cuo’s hair. Cuo Cuo, on the other hand, smiled brightly and waved to Feng Xin.
“Papa, Mm-Qing is cutting my hair!”
“I see that,” Feng Xin said while he made his way in front of him. He kneeled to speak at eye level with him. “Do you want your hair cut short?”
“It’s not a cut; it’s a trim,” Mu Qing corrected. He was finishing up. With a brush of his hand, Mu Qing pushed the hair off Cuo Cuo’s shoulder onto the ground. He combed through his hair once, twice, and then threw in some of the leave-in conditioner before combing it once again. “There,” he said. “Go get dressed for bed now,” he told him. Cuo Cuo nodded and handed Mu Qing back his phone.
“Are you going to trim papa’s hair?” Cuo Cuo questioned. Mu Qing froze. His eyes drifted over to Feng Xin who stood leaning against the counter, and then he looked back to Cuo Cuo. Before he could speak, Cuo Cuo said, “He needs a trim too! Come on, Mm-Qing.”
And no matter how much Mu Qing was irritated at Feng Xin for irritating the living hell out of him that morning, he could not say no to Cuo Cuo’s adorable face. He sighed and nodded.
“Sure. Whatever you say, Cuo Cuo.”
Cuo Cuo beamed brighter at Mu Qing’s words. He jumped up and rushed over to Feng Xin, tugging him away from the counter to the small, short stool that sat on the floor. With a light push, he tried to get Feng Xin to sit down, but he was nowhere near strong enough to do any damage himself. Feng Xin sighed and went to plop himself down, but considering how far down it was, he nearly fell backwards. His arms began to flail a little bit until his back hit a pair of legs. Mu Qing stopped him from falling.
He wordlessly picked up the towel Cuo Cuo had around his shoulders and placed them on Feng Xin’s shoulders.
“I’ll do this while you get ready for bed, Cuo Cuo,” Mu Qing said.
“Okayyy, fine!” Cuo Cuo huffed, and he was off.
Mu Qing started with a deep sigh. As if he really did not want to be trimming Feng Xin’s hair. Or even left in a room alone with him. He wet his hair and began to comb through. It was much easier to get through than before since Mu Qing forced a bunch of new hair products onto him.
“You don’t have to do this shit if you don’t want to,” Feng Xin suddenly said
“Shut up.”
Feng Xin went quiet. He let Mu Qing brush out his hair and line it up nicely so he could give it a fair cut. If he was being honest, he was scared Mu Qing would butcher it considering he was irritated with him. Feng Xin was sweating to say the least.
He cleared his throat. “Mu Qing?”
“What?” Cold. Feng Xin felt shivers, but he didn’t dare move with the sheers close to his neck. He could not piss Mu Qing off.
“I’m sorry.”
Mu Qing rolled his eyes.
“I’m sorry for being a big fucking mess,” Feng Xin said. “It’s just more than I thought I could handle.”
“Then cut down on some classes, huh? What’s the point of rushing it anyhow?”.
“Cut d—Mu Qing, no. It’s not just college. It’s fucking everything,” he said. “It’s college, it’s work, it’s Cuo Cuo, it’s you—”
“Me?” Mu Qing huffed, throwing his hands up. Scary. Waving around a sharp tool. “What the hell did I do, other than clean and take care of your damn kid for you?” Mu Qing stopped moving, his voice rising. “I know I was the one to be brought in and offered a place to stay, but I pay for half the stuff anyhow—half of this shit is mine too. But what do you do aside from making a mess for me to clean?!” He dropped the comb and sheers to the bathroom floor and pulled Feng Xin up by the collar. It was aggressive, and rough, and Feng Xin let it happen because Mu Qing needed to yell, but he also needed a slap in the face.
“Is that all he is to you?” Feng Xin asked. “Just my ‘damn kid’?” When he asked, Feng Xin could feel Mu Qing’s fingers weaken in the fabric of his shirt. He dropped it and subconsciously placed his palms on his chest.
“Of course not, Feng Xin,” Mu Qing said, quick words that sounded sad. “I would die for that kid in a heartbeat, and you know it.”
“Then fucking act like it,” Feng Xin said harshly. “You can fucking yell at me all you want—you’re right. I don’t do shit around here, and you take care of Cuo Cuo more than I do. But don’t fucking act like you don’t mean shit for that kid because you do.”
“D—don’t turn this argument around on me. This is about your inability to take care of your shit, not how I feel—"
Feng Xin grabbed his wrists, his fingers pressing into Mu Qing’s palms. “Like I said. You won,” he said to Mu Qing in a whisper. “But know that you mean as much to Cuo Cuo as I do—if not more. And you mean a fuck ton to me too.”
Mu Qing stared for a second, eyebrow twitching, before he yanked his hand away. He wiped at his face with his sleeve and started to make his way out of the bathroom. “Put some leave-in conditioner in your hair before you sleep.”
Ever since Feng Xin had admitted to Mu Qing that the stress of everything was truly getting to him, he figured he should lay off him a bit. It was a lot. Work. College. Cuo Cuo. Him. Whatever that meant. Feng Xin still hadn’t explained that bit to him. So, he cleaned the house. And additionally, Mu Qing stepped into the hell that was Feng Xin’s room and cleaned it as best as he could.
Washed the sheets. Put everything through the washer because he was not going to risk anything being Feng Xin Considered Dirty—which that was ‘worn for a couple of days, and didn’t sweat, so it was alright for another day.’ Mu Qing gagged.
Since it was the weekend, Cuo Cuo had the day off as well and decided to help Mu Qing. He taught him how to tell which way the fitted sheet fit the bed without putting it on sideways, and he taught him how to fold the second sheet neatly at the top, and he taught him how to carefully fluff the pillows to look presentable. Mu Qing showed him how the small Roomba vacuum worked and how to turn it on, what the different beeps and buttons meant. Then the difference in cleaners like wood shiner, and glass cleaner, and a basic spray.
Cuo Cuo learned how to fold clothes, which type of clothing needed to be hanged, what you needed to add into laundry for it to be nice and clean and soft, how much detergent to use, when to use bleach.
It was clear that it put Feng Xin in a good mood. A great mood even. Mu Qing watched from the couch, his legs propped up on the table, a book in his hand, as Feng Xin shuffled to his room down the hallway. A few moments later, he came running out like an excited child, pointing back behind him.
“My room?!” he shouted.
“Yeah?”
“It’s fucking clean!”
Mu Qing covered his mouth with his hand, hiding back a laugh. Still smiling, he pulled it down to speak. “Yeah.”
Feng Xin’s face was lit up. A little. His eyes were wide, the dark brown shining in the light even though they were incredibly dark. But the beard on his face made Mu Qing cringe. It wasn’t a full beard, but there was hair on his face, and it was messy, unclean, and gross.
So, Mu Qing stood up and tossed aside his book. He didn’t speak a word as he grabbed Feng Xin’s hand and pulled him to the bathroom.
While passing by the shelf in the bathroom stacked with supplies, he pushed a towel into Feng Xin’s hands. “Shower.”
“Mu—”
“Shower,” he repeated. And Mu Qing left the room.
By the time Feng Xin was finished, he felt fresher. A shower was a great idea. He walked out to Cuo Cuo sitting alone at the counter swinging his feet. A bowl of cereal was in front of him. There were dinosaurs printed on the side of the dish. Cuo Cuo’s favorite bowl.
His eyes lit up when he saw Feng Xin enter the room. “Papa, have cereal too,” he asked him waving a hand to get his papa’s attention.
“Me?” Feng Xin asked while pointing to himself. “I told you before, Cuo Cuo. I’m a full-grown adult. Cereal won’t cut it for me.”
Cuo Cuo began to pout silently to himself. There was a slight glisten in his eyes. He was beginning to cry. It reminded Feng Xin of when he was a kid himself and easily found himself in hysterics. Crybabies. Both of them. Feng Xin sighed and went to retrieve a bowl. He got himself some cereal and joined Cuo Cuo at the counter.
The two sat eating together. Cuo Cuo explained to his papa about his day at school, and in exchange, Feng Xin told him a crazy, over exaggerated story of a patient coming in with a mysterious bite. ‘Maybe there’s a crazy dog man around!!!’ Cuo Cuo had fear in his eyes and sunk lower into his seat.
“What’s going on in here?” Mu Qing stepped into the kitchen. He had a pair of glasses sitting in the pocket of the robe he wore tightly tied at his waist. Feng Xin had to tear his eyes away before they started to wander down to stare at the other’s pale legs. He couldn’t comment on the glasses either or else Mu Qing would know he was looking that far.
“Mm-Qing, could there be a d—dog man?” Cuo Cuo asked in a scared voice. He had milk dripping down from his chin, and Mu Qing walked in to retrieve a rag. There was a slight look of confusion as he wiped Cuo Cuo’s face clean.
“Dog man? Here? Who told you that?”
“P—Papa did.”
Mu Qing glared at Feng Xin. When Cuo Cuo went to shakily eat another bite of cereal, Mu Qing whipped the damp cloth he used to clean Cuo Cuo’s face at Feng Xin. It stung his arm for a second, and Feng Xin was about to snap at Mu Qing for hitting him suddenly, but a tear fell from Cuo Cuo’s face and hit his hand.
“Oh, shit,” Feng Xin mumbled.
“Your papa is terrible, isn’t he?” Mu Qing asked to Cuo Cuo softly. He sat himself down in the chair next to him and tucked his hair behind his ear. “He was only kidding with you. There are no scary dog men biting anybody.”
“T—then what was it?”
“A normal rabid dog biting people,” Feng Xin answered without thinking, but it scared Cuo Cuo even more. That there was still something out there.
“Feng Xin,” Mu Qing hissed.
“Fuck,” Feng Xin cured. That time, Mu Qing reached over and hit him on the arm himself. He quickly put his attention back to Cuo Cuo.
“Ignore your papa. He’s not a good role model.”
Cuo Cuo sniffed. “Okay,” he mumbled. “Are you mad at him?”
“Yes. He shouldn’t be telling you things to scare you,” Mu Qing answered. It made Cuo Cuo even more upset. Everything they said seemed to go the opposite way. But with this, Cuo Cuo perked up in his seat. He tried to wipe away his tears and hide his runny nose.
“D—don’t be mad at papa. I’m okay!” Cuo Cuo said with a forced smile. “I—I’m not scared. Don’t be mad at papa. I don’t like when you two argue.”
“I—” Mu Qing flushed red. “W—we don’t fight that much.”
“You got mad because I left the TV remote on the couch the other day and not on the table,” Feng Xin muttered before taking another bite of cereal. Mu Qing rolled his eyes.
“You deserved to get yelled at,” Mu Qing muttered under his breath to Feng Xin. “Go clean your face,” he said. Feng Xin scoffed and stood up, leaving the kitchen. So, Mu Qing turned back to Cuo Cuo.
“There’s nothing out there,” Mu Qing reassured Cuo Cuo. “Your papa is being a jerk,” he said while tucking his hair back behind his ear. “Finish eating up, then get ready for bed.”
“Okay, Mm-Qing!”
After Mu Qing was finished with cheering Cuo Cuo back up, he went to look for Feng Xin. He found him in the bathroom with the small gel pads sitting underneath his eyes. When he heard Mu Qing step in, he froze and turned to look at him. His hands were on his face, fingers covered in the face cream ready to put it on.
Mu Qing snickered under his breath at the sight. Feng Xin, sweatpants, shirtless, hair tied back out of the way of his face. But his bangs were too short to reach, so they dangled in front, still in the way. Mu Qing held up a finger to him and left to get something from his bathroom.
He came back with a headband and walked up to Feng Xin. The other looked between the headband and Mu Qing before he lowered his head slightly at an angle, allowing for Mu Qing to put it on. He pushed it back on his hair and moved his bangs from his face.
Oh, he looks cute like this, Mu Qing thought while chewing the inside of his cheek. He felt his face get a little hot, so he turned his head away. Feng Xin didn’t notice, and he turned back to the mirror, leaning close to get a good look as he began to rub the cream in circles on his cheeks.
“I honestly didn’t mean to scare him so fucking much,” Feng Xin muttered. Mu Qing glanced over at him. He was doing it right, but he wanted to tell him that he wasn’t. That way Mu Qing could take over. But Feng Xin would snap at him if he knew Mu Qing tricked him like that. So, instead, Mu Qing opened a drawer and pulled out a razor and shaving cream. He boosted himself on the counter and pinched Feng Xin’s arm. “Ow—what?”
“Come here,” Mu Qing waved. “I said I would teach you.”
“Mu Qing, I know how to fucking shave—”
“Come here, would you? Jesus.” Mu Qing grabbed his arm and tugged him to stand between his legs. Feng Xin paused staring down at him; Feng Xin basically loomed over him. Mu Qing pursed his lips but acted normal. He pumped out some of the shaving cream and slowly reached over. Feng Xin stared at him, no expression as Mu Qing dragged and smeared it on his chin. Mu Qing wiped his hands off and then picked up the razor.
“Should I trust you next to my face with a blade?”
“Oh, shut up,” Mu Qing mumbled. His thumb pressed under Feng Xin’s chin and tilted it up. “If you talk, I’ll hurt you and blame it on you,” he whispered. Feng Xin zipped his lips. He stayed still as he felt Mu Qing lightly drag the razor on his jaw. Mu Qing did one slow swoop. He twisted his back and turned the faucet on, letting it run.
Feng Xin felt safer holding onto Mu Qing, but would it freak Mu Qing out if he suddenly grabbed him? He was careful. If Mu Qing jumped, it would only hurt Feng Xin. He slowly set a hand on his waist. Mu Qing paused, nearly slipping up. His face turned a different shade, but he let out a breath through slightly parted lips and continued in silence. So, Feng Xin moved his other hand and placed it on Mu Qing’s other hip.
“Careful, Feng Xin,” Mu Qing muttered under his breath.
“Careful what?” Feng Xin asked. “Are you going to hurt me?”
Mu Qing leaned a bit closer whispering low under his breath, “I’m the one with the razor.” As he spoke, he continued working, but Feng Xin noticed his hands shaking ever so slightly. He was finished with one side, and his fingers pushed Feng Xin’s head to tilt it the other way to get the other side.
“And if you really fucking hated it, you would push me away,” Feng Xin said, half-confident with his statement. But the way that that Mu Qing pursed his lips and turned his head a little too much to clean to razor told Feng Xin maybe he was right.
Mu Qing finished up the other side in silence. He stuck his tongue out as he worked. Feng Xin was tempted. He wanted to kiss him. More than anything.
When he was done, Mu Qing patted his face dry with a towel and began to add the face cream to his face. “See?” Mu Qing spoke quietly. “Smooth,” he said while touching Feng Xin’s face. So, Feng Xin reached up to touch his own face.
“Oh, fuck. It is,” Feng Xin said. Then he slapped both hands on his face. “Oh, my god. You’re good at that.” Mu Qing covered his mouth and laughed, muffling the noise behind his hand. Feng Xin’s fingers twitched wanting to pull his hand away, wanting him to let it out so he could his the sound of his laugh.
“You’re an idiot, Feng Xin,” Mu Qing said, but he still looked at Feng Xin with a small, soft smile, touching his face to feel his own work. Or maybe he wanted an excuse to touch Feng Xin. Regardless, there was a slight smile on Mu Qing’s face that Feng Xin wouldn’t miss.
“Can I ask you something?”
Mu Qing pressed his lips together and nodded. With that, Feng Xin reached up curling his fingers carefully around Mu Qing’s wrists. He didn’t look at Mu Qing. For once, he couldn’t force himself to make eye contact.
“I want to kiss you.”
Mu Qing blinked. “That’s not a question.”
“You—” Feng Xin sighed. “You’re so goddamn infuriating.” He backed up from Mu Qing sitting on the counter, already giving up. But Mu Qing chuckled a little and reached for him in time to pull him back.
“Oh, stop being so sensitive,” Mu Qing said, but his face didn’t match his words, bursting with an embarrassing heat. “Kiss me already.”
Feng Xin immediately pushed aside the annoying teasing. He grabbed Mu Qing’s face and kissed him. There was enough confidence in him to lean into him putting his body between Mu Qing’s legs and pressing himself against him desperately as much as he could. Kissing Mu Qing made him realize how long he had been waiting to do it.
He could tell that Mu Qing’s lips were inexperienced, the way they trembled and fumbled against Feng Xin’s lips. Mu Qing’s hands were lost unsure where to go. So, Feng Xin dropped his hands from Mu Qing’s face and placed them in his, rubbing his thumbs over his knuckles. There was a sigh that came through Mu Qing’s nose. Mu Qing trusted him.
The kiss was simple. Terrible, but simple, and even though Mu Qing didn’t know how to kiss, Feng Xin thought it was the best kiss of his life. He grinned against Mu Qing’s lips.
“W—what?” Mu Qing quietly asked. He found a place to put his hands, putting his palms against Feng Xin’s shoulders in front of him.
“You’re a terrible kisser.”
“I—” Mu Qing’s entire face was coated in a layer of red while he pushed back on Feng Xin’s shoulders. “Oh, screw you. Forget any of this.” But Feng Xin hardly staggered backwards. He caught Mu Qing’s hands and pushed his fingers through his leaning up to kiss his lips once more. Quick.
“But I can teach you. Practice makes perfect.”
“Papa! Mm-Qing!”
Mu Qing, out of instinct, shoved Feng Xin back. The other lost his footing from that shove, but he didn’t fall. He looked at his son while Mu Qing covered his mouth with his hand to hide some embarrassment that flooded his face and looked away.
“W—what’s up, little dude?” Feng Xin asked. Out of the corner of his eye, Mu Qing slipped down off the counter and began to clean up. He tugged out a small stool and grabbed out a child’s toothbrush.
“He’s getting ready for bed too,” Mu Qing answered. He handed Cuo Cuo his toothbrush. “Here you go. Go on.”
“Nearly gave me a fucking concussion,” Feng Xin mumbled to Mu Qing.
“Get over it,” Mu Qing said under his breath back to Feng Xin, not turning his head to look back at Feng Xin behind him. “We’ll talk later. Put him to bed. I’ll clean up.”
Feng Xin licked his lips. Talk later. He nodded. “Okay.”
After Cuo Cuo was put to sleep, Feng Xin walked to Mu Qing’s room. He knocked on the door and waited to be signaled in, but instead, he heard shuffling and the door opened for him. Mu Qing looked at him. His face had gone back to its normal color, but is suddenly went red seeing him, and he averted his eyes down.
“Hey,” Mu Qing muttered.
“So. . .?” Feng Xin felt stupid. He was in his twenties and couldn’t even properly ask out the man he had kissed ten minutes before. “That talk.”
Mu Qing nodded and then sighed. “Look, I—” he stuttered, “I’ve never been in any type of anything.”
Wow, he’s real wordy when he’s flustered, but Feng Xin kept his mouth closed.
“I’m not sure how to do this.”
Feng Xin laughed. “Something I know how to do that you don’t,” he said. Mu Qing’s mood lightened. He rolled his eyes.
“Oh, shut up. Do you want to do this or not?” he asked.
“I do,” Feng Xin quickly said. “I do. I really, really do.”
“Okay.” Mu Qing had his hands on the door, leaning on it as it swung a bit. “Then we’re official or whatever it is that they say.” He moved to close the door, hesitantly, but he began to shut it. “Goodnight then.”
“Goodnight, boyfriend.”
Mu Qing’s face scrunched. “Don’t do that.”
“Goodnight.”