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It's just like Dejun to flirt with Guanheng within an inch of Guanheng's life and then collapse in the middle of a showcase.
The dramatic bastard is starting to wear on Guanheng's nerves. One minute, he's leaning into Guanheng's space and calling him princely. His soft voice harbours a kind of wilderness, like wind amongst cherry blossoms.
The next minute, he's white as a sheet and teetering dangerously near the edge of the stage, about to faint. Guanheng surges forward to catch him, but he's a moment too late. Dejun doesn't fall off the stage - thank goodness - but his head does bounce with a nasty thwack when he hits the floor.
The wind rises and fear stirs in Guanheng's chest. It's too wild for his liking; too out-of-control.
-
Kun grabs Guanheng's wrist the moment the concert is over and whisks him backstage.
"We need a Cantonese speaker," Kun explains under his breath. Guanheng hurries after him. It was Kun who'd reached Dejun first and escorted him off the stage. As much as the other members like to give him shit, Kun is ever the reliable one in a crisis.
"A Cantonese speaker? Why?" Guanheng frowns, his concern deepening. It's true that he and Dejun are the only native Cantonese speakers in the group, but Dejun's Mandarin is just as fluent as Guanheng's own. So whatever medical problem he's having, he should be perfectly capable of explaining it to the staff... right?
Kun grimaces. "It's... uh. It's better if you see it for yourself."
Okay. Now Guanheng is really worried. He falls silent and hurries after Kun, chewing on his lip. Dejun is okay, right? It was just a fainting spell. They've all had them. That's what he tells himself as the two of them weave through the backstage corridors and eventually reach the green room.
The sight that greets them is a hell of a lot better than Guanheng is expecting, but it's still weird.
Dejun is awake and half-sitting up on the green room sofa. He's still a little pale, and there's a large band-aid on his head. He's holding an ice pack, and staff are fluttering nervously around him. But in spite of the chaos, he looks elegant - more poised somehow.
Dejun's face lights up when he lays eyes on Guanheng.
He sits up straight, setting the ice pack aside. The medical staff member scoffs and pushes it back into his hands, forcing him to hold it to his head. With the ice pack pressed to his forehead, Dejun smiles sunnily up at Guanheng. "There you are, my liege! We seem to have found ourselves in an uncanny predicament. Don't make any sudden movements. I'll protect you."
Guanheng inhales, surprised.
He's used to being told he looks princely, but this is going a little too far.
Dejun seems to be speaking an old dialect of Cantonese. (Don't ask Guanheng how he knows that - he's a serial Wikipedia user.) Is he making a joke? Trying to ease the tension? Guanheng would normally play along in an instant, but this isn't really the time for it. Something doesn't sit right.
Dejun watches him earnestly. His eyes are bright and innocent, like he's waiting to follow Guanheng's lead.
Okay. Concussions can make people disoriented. Maybe Dejun just doesn't grasp the seriousness of the situation right now. Maybe he really is having a joke, and Guanheng doesn't want to alarm him by rejecting it outright.
So, Guanheng smiles gently. He sits down on the sofa beside Dejun. "Hey, Dejun. How are you feeling? We were worried about you," he replies in modern Cantonese.
Dejun blinks. Then understanding dawns on his face, and he winks at Guanheng. "Yes, my liege. I am Dejun."
Oh, that can't be good.
Guanheng glances at Kun, who is hovering over them nervously. Behind Kun, the other members are piling into the room. They're shooting worried glances, but still giving Dejun and Guanheng a wide berth - evidently aware that something's wrong.
Guanheng pops his lips, thinking.
He's not used to taking the lead in these kinds of situations. But it's hard enough for him to make sense of what Dejun is saying right now, what with the other boy's newfound lilting accent and archaic, formal words. He knows the other members and staff have no hope of understanding him. So, he'll do what he must.
Guanheng turns to Dejun and pats his knee. "Yes, you are. You fainted and hit your head earlier, remember? Do you feel okay now? Are you dizzy, or nauseous?"
Dejun raises his eyebrows and smiles sheepishly. If anything, he looks embarrassed. Then, to Guanheng's shock, he bows. "The only thing that has been wounded is my pride, my liege," he says softly. He straightens back up and fixes Guanheng with an open, sincere gaze. "If I've let my guard down then I've failed to protect you, and that is a failure that I can't accept."
Guanheng blushes. What in the world...? He shakes his head to snap himself out of it. Dejun is clearly disoriented. This is going to warrant a hospital trip.
He grimaces and gives it one last try. "Dejun, do you know where we are? What year do you think it is right now?"
Dejun chuckles, like he's humouring Guanheng. "We're in the fifth prosperous year of the Xuande Emperor's rule, my liege. And we seem to have found ourselves in the den of a rival clan, if these strange surroundings are anything to go by. But don't worry, I will get us out of here. I vow it."
Wait, the Xuande Emperor?
Dejun thinks they're in the fifteeth century A.D.
Guanheng sighs heavily. Okay. Whatever. Their first priority is to get Dejun to a hospital, and Guanheng doubts he'll go willingly if he thinks they're in some kind of rival's den. And Guanheng is the master of going along with it, so that's what he decides to do.
The other members are still watching him expectantly.
Guanheng summons up all of his acting abilities and eyes Dejun authoritatively, like some kind of ancient master speaking to his manservant. He sits up straight and tries to sound like he knows what to do. "Dejun, listen to me," he commands. Dejun nods. Guangheng continues. "These people want to help us. You've been injured, and they want to take you to their healers, okay? It might be scary, but I want you to go with them and do whatever they say to do."
Guanheng finishes his speech, feeling a little ridiculous. If Dejun is pranking him, Guanheng is going to dye all of his socks neon green. Or something.
But Dejun just nods, blithely obedient, albeit a little nervous.
Guanheng pinches the bridge of his nose. He turns to the other members and the staff to give them the lowdown. "Okay, uh. I don't think he's feeling physically sick, but he's really disoriented. He seems to think we're in ancient China. The Ming dynasty, to be specific. That's why he's speaking like that. And he thinks he's my manservant, or something. He keeps calling me 'my liege'." He groans. "This is really weird, guys. I don't think he's pranking us."
There's an awkward pause. Yangyang is the first to speak. "Maybe he's possessed?"
Ten shakes his head. "Possession, Yangyang, really." He eyes Dejun up and down, scrutinising but still sympathetic. "Maybe he has that disorder, uh... what's it called? Dissociative identity disorder. Like, when people have different identities living in their mind."
Kun sighs. "Let's not jump to conclusions, guys. He probably just has some obscure type of amnesia."
The medical staff member continues to check over Dejun, with Guanheng acting as their translator. Together, they get Dejun bundled up into a car and the manager drives him to the hospital. Guanheng goes with them. He does some history research on his phone on the way. He doesn't learn much.
-
The hospital trip is not uneventful.
For someone who thinks he's a fifteenth-century servant, Dejun tries his best. He really does. But the modern world is clearly completely unfamiliar to him. He marvels at the car, and asks Guanheng in full sincerity where the clansmen hide the horses. Then he nearly pukes in Guanheng's lap. When they enter the ER, Dejun smiles proudly at the girls wearing jeans and the female doctors in the triage room. He remarks to Guanheng that he's always supported women's liberation, and it's about time. The doctor checking over him shines a small torch in his eyes, and Dejun notes with interest that that's a very tiny light. He even studies Guanheng's phone with pleasure rather than disdain.
That's about as far as their luck goes. When the doctors check for bleeding on his brain, Dejun straight up attacks the MRI machine. He calls it a treacherous beast. Guangheng has to be brought in to drag him away from it before he causes thousands of dollars worth of damage.
"Let me at it!" Dejun cries as Guanheng wraps his arms around him. "I can take it! Let me at the festering thing!"
Goodness. When did Dejun even get this strong?
Guanheng squeezes him tightly, but Dejun is still going batshit. So Guanheng takes a chance and whispers in Dejun's ear. "Compose yourself at once, or your liege will have to punish you."
The fight leaves Dejun's body in an instant. He scrunches up his face, going bright red with shame. "I'm sorry, my liege," he utters, sounding devastated. "I've caused trouble for you. It was not my intention. In truth, I - I'm not feeling like myself. Everything here is so strange. I'm near dizzy with bewilderment... I don't know how you're handling it. You're truly made of stronger stuff than me."
Guanheng blinks, taken off-guard. Does this new Dejun have to be so sincere all the time? He's used to seeing that side of Dejun in snapshots, but not uninhibited and all at once. Not like this. "Uh... that's alright, Dejun. I'm not angry at you. I just want to get you home safely."
Ew. This situation is forcing Guanheng to be sincere in return. He tells himself he's just acting - he's just doing whatever he can to help Dejun while he's out-of-sorts. If playing the role of a noble prince is what it takes to do that, then he can do it.
But a softer, more sentimental part of him knows that that's not all there is to it. And it's making him feel flustered.
After all, hasn't he always wanted to be able to speak to Dejun like this?
Guanheng rubs Dejun's back in the MRI room, ignoring the watchful eyes of the confused staff. Eventually, Dejun agrees to get back into the MRI machine. Guanheng is ushered out of the room, but he watches through the glass as Dejun bravely faces an unfamiliar beast, all because Guanheng asked him to.
-
Guanheng has two fears: frogs and goodbyes. Thankfully, Dejun is physically okay, and so it doesn't seem like they'll have to say any kind of goodbye to him anytime soon.
Eventually they leave the hospital with Dejun in tow. He has a diagnosis of mild concussion and amnesia not otherwise specified. The company decides that Dejun should stay in the dorms with Guanheng rather than going back to his own apartment. It'll be safer that way. The doctors have instructed them to keep an eye on Dejun's disoriented state, and bring him back if it doesn't clear up in a few days.
So, the members all pile into the downstairs dorm in the early hours of the morning, when one could still make a case that it's technically night. The other members managed to catch some shut-eye for a few hours after the concert. But Guanheng is still too worried to sleep. Instead, he cuddles up with Dejun in the blanket pile the members have laid out on the floor of the living room. Yangyang had declared it a sleepover, and no one really has the heart to refuse him right now.
Ten has put some trashy movie on the TV, but he's muted it so that the group can still chat and debrief about the night's events. Yangyang has Winwin on speaker on his phone, and they've given him a brief run-down of the situation. It's almost like old times.
Dejun clings to Guanheng like a limpet. He's still convinced that he's Guanheng's ancient servant. But - blessedly - some Mandarin seems to be coming back to him.
Dejun sips his fizzy lemonade and speaks in broken Mandarin. "I must say, I'm marvelling at how quickly I've picked up this foreign tongue." He glances around at the group with interest. "Are all of you my liege's new brethren?"
Ten laughs. Sometime between the concert and now, he seems to have decided that Dejun's new persona is cute. He shoots Guanheng a teasing look. "We're his brethren, alright."
Dejun nods. "Okay. But I think I've missed a few events. You all say that the six of us - uh, including the fellow in the little box - are bards? And that I sing alongside my liege?" He looks at Guanheng in fond admiration at the last part.
Yangyang is having the time of his life. He bounces up and down on the cushion he's perched on, eyeing Guanheng with a glint in his eyes that can only be described as evil. "Well, your liege is mostly a spoken-word bard. He's a rapper! It's sort of like a poet."
Dejun glances from Yangyang to Guanheng. His gaze is so soft that it hurts all of a sudden. "Amidst all the strange revelations of this world, that does not surprise me. My liege has always been a poet. Even in our youth, his words were the master of my heart."
For some reason, Guanheng can't bring himself to speak.
Kun coos obnoxiously, snatching a pillow away from Yangyang and hugging it to his chest. He squeaks into the pillow. "Oh my god, that is so cute. Me when?"
Winwin speaks up from the phone. "This sounds like the plot of a drama. Maybe you two knew each other in a past life or something."
A past life?
Ten clicks his fingers. "I've got it! It's past-life retrograde amnesia."
They all turn to stare at Ten. He groans and elaborates. "Dejun banged his head so hard that he's forgotten his entire current life, and he's remembering details of a past life." He points at Dejun and then Guanheng. "A past life where you two actually were servant and master."
Reincarnation? Guanheng will be the first to admit that he's open to anything, but he doesn't see how it's medically possible for a bump on the head to do all that. Still, there's something about this current Dejun that's stirring something... different in him. Something responsible, dedicated, dutiful... almost regal. It's like some part of his gut recognises what Dejun says, even if his mind doesn't. And the earnest, trusting look in Dejun's eyes... it's weird to admit it, but he feels like he's missed that.
Dejun whimpers. Guanheng turns to look at him sharply. Dejun has gone pale, and he's fiddling anxiously with his sleeves.
Guanheng touches his arm. "Dejun? What's wrong?"
Dejun takes a breath. He's shaking. "Well... If this is true, and I really am in a future life - I mean, if what I'm remembering is a past life - then what happened to our brethren back then? Are they okay? My liege is my north star, but there are others who are dear to me. Others who are dear to us."
Guanheng's heart sinks. "I'm sure they're alright. You and I are still together. I'm sure our loved ones still have each other, too." It's not what Guanheng really believes, of course. He grew up around goodbyes, and he's spent most of his adult life anticipating the next one. Through choice, circumstance or fate, people lose each other. But Dejun looks so genuinely distraught, and Guanheng's first instinct is to reassure him. How can he not? This version of Dejun is softer, less guarded somehow. Guanheng feels like it's his duty to reassure him in whatever way he can.
Dejun settles down at this, although his face is still a little pinched.
Guangheng rolls his shoulder unconsciously, wincing at the niggle there. His old dancing injury still flares up sometimes.
To his surprise, Dejun raises his eyebrows. "Is your old arrow wound still bothering you, my liege?"
Arrow wound? Guanheng laughs it off and dismisses Dejun's concern with a wave. But what worries him the most is that - deep in his gut - the concept of an arrow wound doesn't even feel that unfamiliar to him.
The problem is that whatever part of Dejun’s spirit is awakening, it’s awakening something equally unsettling in Guanheng.
Later, when they crawl into bed, Dejun curls up beside Guanheng and confesses that he fears things didn't end well for them.
Dejun runs his hands along Guanheng's sleep shirt, over and over again. "I can sense it," he confesses. "I can almost remember it. Our people suffered greatly, my liege. The guilt I carry... it's almost unbearable. I let you down somehow. I know it."
Guanheng shakes his head. Whatever's going on, he won't allow the guilt. He hugs Dejun close. "It doesn't matter now," he says firmly. "We're together. We're safe. Whatever happened, it's nobody's fault."
If Dejun weeps into Guanheng's shirt, no one else has to know.
Guangheng has always been told that he's a talented actor. But he's alarmed by how easily he's slipping into this role.
Maybe it's not a role at all.
Guangheng shakes his head. That's a three a.m. thought. It'll pass.
-
The group adjusts. Kun’s takeaway from the entire situation seems to be, 'when will someone declare their ancient love for me?' (To which Ten replies, 'I’m right here, babe.') Guanheng gets a sneaking feeling that Kun is writing a melancholy song about it. Yangyang has taken it upon himself to test out Dejun’s swordfighting abilities, and Winwin sometimes calls Dejun to ask about the past, for character research. So all in all, they take it in stride and move on.
Blessedly, Dejun starts remembering details of his current life. Within a week, he can speak fluent Mandarin again, he's decent with Korean and he's remembered all of their lyrics and choreography. He still identifies as fifteeth-century Dejun (or whatever his name was - he refuses to tell Guanheng, who he insists 'knows his true name,') but the fans and the company don't need to know that.
Guanheng is trying his best to adjust. Really, he is. But the dynamic between him and Dejun is changing, and it has him feeling flustered nearly all of the time.
See, they're no longer just partners-in-crime. Guanheng used to be able to write off the playful flirting between them as a game, as part of the banter, as something that was all in fun. It was nothing serious. They were testing the waters, having a laugh, blowing off steam.
When it was like that, he didn't have to think about it.
Now, he has to think about it. Dejun is gradually regaining his old self, but there's still this newfound depth there. (Not that Dejun wasn't always deep, but it wasn't a side of him that Guanheng was frequently privy to.) Nowadays, Dejun looks at Guanheng with a layer of meaning in every glance. Like he'd lay his life on the line for Guanheng if he asked. Like there are unspoken centuries of understanding and trust between them.
Hell, maybe there are.
Nowadays, Dejun takes care of Guanheng without hesitation. It makes Guangheng blush. Guanheng cuts his hand in the middle of a dress rehearsal one day, and Dejun wordlessly finds the first-aid kit and patches him up. His hair is in his eyes and his dress shirt is falling open, but he sits Guanheng down, disinfects his hand, and plasters and bandages him up like a pro. Then he brushes his hair out of his eyes and raises Guanheng's hand to his lips. He kisses Guanheng's knuckles, glancing up at Guanheng as he does so. His gaze is dark, kind and tender. It pierces Guanheng to the core. He spends the rest of the rehearsal feeling breathlessly giddy, trying to dance on jelly legs.
-
Their dizzying new dynamic comes to a head one day when it's pelting rain outside.
Of course it does.
Guanheng's two biggest fears are frogs and goodbyes.
In Guanheng's defence, the frog thing is an actual phobia. He knows it's not 'logical' and that frogs don't actually have it out for him. But they can jump, and they're slimy, and they can scream like hell. Seriously, why does no one ever mention that frogs like to scream?
The chaos unfolds like this. They're filming content for a tourism show. They're visiting a seaside town with the film production staff, and it's meant to be cute and fun and sweet. It is cute and fun and sweet. They have lunch in a local restaurant, they make cookies in a bakery and then they head to the shoreline with their umbrellas and ponchos to walk along a stony beach.
Guanheng is all talked out by the time they reach the beach, so he slips into his natural introverted state to let himself recharge. The other members chatter away, recounting stories of their previous visits to the seaside and pointing out pretty shells and interesting boats. Guanheng walks a few paces behind them, focusing on the stones beneath his boots.
Dejun falls into step beside Guanheng and slips his hand in his. He leans in to whisper conspiratorially. "Your little sheep friend sure does like to test his luck."
Guanheng looks over at the other members and snickers. Their little sheep friend (read: Yangyang) is currently holding out a hermit crab to Kun, who is smacking him away. Ten is taking photos of the spectacle and egging both of them on.
Dejun bumps his shoulder against Guanheng's. "Does rain still make you feel solemn, my liege?"
Huh. Guanheng guesses it kind of does. Not in a bad way - just in a reflective way.
Still. Guanheng huffs for show. He can't let Dejun think he's gotten soft, or anything. "That's just my face," he says drily, pulling a mock-pitiful face for emphasis.
Dejun chuckles. "You haven't changed a bit." He rubs Guanheng's back. "I will stay with you."
Oh. Guanheng really must be turning sentimental, because he genuinely chokes up a little at that. Dejun will stay with him? Damn. He doubts Dejun even knows what a declaration like that means to him - not in this lifetime, anyway - but still. Damn.
Guanheng looks down bashfully, and that's when he sees it.
On his boot, there is a bright green frog.
It must have clambered on to gain its bearings in the rain. Guanheng doesn't think about that, though. His body reacts on pure instinct. His face goes cold, he grabs Dejun's sleeve in a panic and he kicks the frog away with a guttural yell.
The frog goes flying. It lands on the stony shore a few metres away and turns to croak at Guanheng reproachfully. It hops towards him. Guanheng cowers back, shaking in fear.
Dejun reacts quickly. He steps swiftly in front of Guanheng, closes his umbrella and holds it out at the frog like a sword. "I will protect you, my liege!" He takes a daring step towards the frog. "Get back, unscrupulous beast!"
The staff and the other members have turned around to see what the fuss is about. They watch in bewilderment - and amusement - as Dejun squares up at the tiny frog.
It's nearly an even match. The frog casts its beady gaze from Dejun to Guanheng and back. It takes one daring leap towards Dejun, then another.
Dejun scowls. He shakes the umbrella ferociously. "Heed my words, be-slimed creature. If you know what's good for you, begone!"
Ironically, the fury on Dejun's face is the closest he's looked to his old self in weeks, even as he's defending Guanheng's honour. He quirks his lips as he threatens the frog, and it's a glimpse of his old sense of humour. Guanheng has missed this side of him, too - but he doesn't get the chance to linger on that thought for long, because the frog is still dangerously close and he's starting to go weak at the knees.
Dejun scares the frog off with one final emphatic jab of the umbrella. The frog croaks in affront, then hops away.
Kun has approached them during the chaos. He catches Guanheng as he falls to the ground. "Whoa, hey. I've got you."
Dejun casts the umbrella aside and rushes to Guanheng's side. He kneels in front of him and takes his wrist to check his pulse. His fingers are warm against Guanheng's skin. "Are you quite alright, my liege?"
Guanheng takes a deep breath and gets his bearings. Okay. He's on the ground, with Kun's arms bracing his back and Dejun's hands on his wrist. The frog scare is over. He's okay. They're all getting drizzled on now, and Dejun's hair is wavy and damp from the rain. Dejun is watching him calmly, waiting for him to steady himself enough to answer. And although he's still speaking like ancient-Dejun, there's a quirk to his lips that is all modern-Dejun. Like he's regaining his modern self, albeit with his past-life memories now integrated. Like he knows the effect his words and his devoted noble-defender act are having on Guanheng, and he's choosing to do it anyway.
Where does that leave them?
Guanheng flushes. "Uh. Yeah, I'm okay." He extracts himself from Dejun's grip, and from Kun's. He stands up shakily and glances around, embarrassed at the spectacle.
Even Yangyang looks sympathetic. "Are you sure you're alright, Gege? You look a little red."
Guanheng groans. He shoos them all off. "I'm humiliated, let me have no dignity in peace."
-
As it turns out, it's not just humiliation. Guanheng comes down with a fever than very evening.
Guanheng slumps against Dejun in the car and lets Ten go all mother-hen on him. By the time they arrive at the dorms, Guanheng has received a massage, two packets of medicine that Ten somehow had stored away somewhere in his slinky little outfit, and a list of instructions for his recovery. It's just a minor fever, but he obeys.
Dejun is still staying in the downstairs dorm with Guanheng. He hauls Guanheng to bed with a promise to take good care of him. It's weird. At this point, Dejun has slipped out of his habit of calling Guanheng my liege, which Guanheng takes as a sign that he's back to his normal self. But he still handles Guanheng like there's history between them.
Guanheng considers bringing it up when Dejun brings him soup, but he doesn't need to. Dejun beats him to it.
Guanheng is sipping his soup carefully when Dejun starts speaking. He speaks in modern Cantonese, but there's a faraway look in his eyes. "When you got shot with the arrow, you got so sick that I thought you were going to die," he confesses. "Back then, I hadn't seen anyone die yet. We were really young. I was so scared for you. But you pulled through."
Guanheng swallows. He sets aside the implications of 'I hadn't seen anyone die yet,' - he can ask about that later. Right now, with the quiet and contemplative way that Dejun is speaking, Guanheng feels like he can muster up the courage to ask the question that's really on his mind.
Guanheng sets the bowl of soup down on his bedside table. He pushes back his sweaty hair and angles himself in bed to face Dejun. Dejun is sitting in Guanheng's desk chair, right beside Guanheng's bed. He's wearing a simple cardigan, and his earphones are hanging around his neck. He's dressed like his regular modern self, but he still looks poised. Elegant. Graceful in an archaic way. No one carries themselves with that kind of grace anymore. He watches Guanheng with a gentle, wistful smile. Guanheng is weak from the fever, but Dejun's gaze makes him feel weaker.
Guanheng clears his throat. "Dejun... What am I to you?"
Dejun shrugs. "In my past life? You were a love dearer to me than there are words to describe. We were sworn to each other, in every sense. In this life? I don't know, exactly. But you're still dear to me."
Guanheng exhales shakily. What is he supposed to say? How is he supposed to feel, when Dejun talks like that? "Dejun, I..." He pauses. Whatever words he's trying to gather are stuck in his throat. He can't just leave Dejun hanging, not after something like that. But he truly doesn't know what to say.
Dejun smiles. He doesn't look hurt. His dark eyes are full of understanding.
Guanheng's hair has once again fallen in his face. Dejun reaches out and tucks his hair back, not minding the sweat on his forehead. "I thought I was brought back to you in this life so that I could make it up to you. But maybe I'm here so that we can be what we are now. Maybe that's our healing." He ever-so-softly pushes Guanheng back, encouraging him to lie down. "You're weak. Get some rest."
His voice is soft, like distant rushing water. It lulls Guanheng into a dreamy state. 'You're dear to me, too,' is what he wants to say. But he falls asleep before the words can pass his lips.
Guanheng dreams of winding rivers, fiery battles, lilting music, beckoning stars, and clear sunrise above mist-laden mountains. And through it all, a warm and steady hand in his own.
-
It's Yangyang who shakes Guanheng awake. He pats Guanheng's face and tugs at his sleeve. Guanheng bats him away with a groan.
Yangyang perseveres. "Gege, wake up. Dejun had another accident."
That has Guanheng sitting up with a jolt. He squints against the morning light and peers at Yangyang, hastening out of bed as he does so. "What? What happened?"
Yangyang gulps worriedly. "We went to practice. Your fever broke, but we wanted to let you rest anyway. Dejun - I don't know, he just fell at a weird angle. He hit his head again. Kun and Ten went to the hospital with him and the manager."
Guanheng curses under his breath as he rummages around for his clothes. Two head injuries so close together can't be good. And why has Dejun been collapsing in the first place? Maybe this has nothing to do with past lives at all - maybe something is really wrong, and they've been ignoring the signs for weeks.
Yangyang taps Guanheng's head lightly. "Don't catastrophise. We don't know anything yet."
They get a taxi to the hosptal. Guanheng drums his fingers against his thigh on the way there, trying to quell the guilt and fear ricocheting around in his chest. He didn't tell Dejun how he felt when he had the chance. And now Dejun is hurt - possibly badly. He might even be seriously ill. Guanheng's not ready for this. And even that is a selfish thought, because whatever Dejun is going through must be so much worse.
-
By the time they get to the hospital triage room, Dejun is wide awake and finding fault with everything. That is to say, he's completely back to his usual self.
He's sitting up in the triage bed, looking wan and rumpled but otherwise unharmed. He scoffs when Guanheng and Yangyang enter. "Oh, here they are," he drawls in that half-joking and half-serious voice. "Here to rescue me from the dramatics? You took your time, but better late than never."
Guanheng halts before he reaches Dejun's bed, unsure how to proceed. He's not sure how much Dejun remembers of the past few weeks, if anything. His heart sinks a little, but only for a few seconds. The most important thing is that Dejun is okay. Whatever havoc he's wreaked on Guanheng's heart can wait for later.
Yangyang is facing none of the same doubts. He deposits himself comfortably in Dejun's lap and peppers him with over-the-top kisses. Dejun accepts it for just a moment before he bats him away.
Kun steps into Dejun's space to inspect the bump on his head, which is apparently the wrong move. Dejun huffs. "Stop your hovering, man!"
Kun laughs, raising his hands in surrender. He steps back and plonks himself in the row of chairs along the wall, between Ten and the manager. Ten's teary red eyes are the only sign that anything is wrong here at all. His arms are crossed over himself and his shoulders are raised, evidently in a prickly mood from the worry and stress. He stays silent.
Guanheng clicks his tongue and steps forward. He perches on the edge of the bed. "Cut them some slack, Dejunnie. We've been really worried about you."
Dejun grimaces, dropping the huffy act a little. "I know." He glances around at them apologetically. "I'm sorry for worrying you all. I'm honestly fine."
Ten sighs, running a hand through his hair. "Just... take better care of yourself, okay?"
Dejun nods. "I'll try my best. Scout's honour." Then his eyes flash mischievously at Guanheng. His fingers inch their way towards the hem of Guanheng's shirt. "And if I can't, Guanheng will take care of me!" he chirps.
So. They're back to the play-flirting. That's cool. Guanheng wasn't hoping for more, or anything. He counts himself lucky enough that Dejun is okay.
Unfortunately, the entire room sees Guanheng's face fall.
Yangyang cackles and slaps Dejun's arm. "Hey! He's upset that you're not calling him 'my liege' anymore." Yangyang pulls an exaggerated kissing face. "I'd do anything for you, my liege. Make sweet love to me, my liege -"
Dejun screeches and pushes Yangyang away. "I had amnesia, you brat! Leave me alone."
Amnesia. Of course that's all it was. It was Dejun's brain filling in the gaps in his memory, or something. Guanheng feels silly for getting so caught up in it. It was irresponsible of him, and he's just glad that his lapse in judgement didn't seem to do Dejun any permanent harm.
"Hey." Dejun rouses Guanheng from his reverie with a squeeze of his hand. "We're us, yeah?" he murmurs softly.
Guanheng plasters a smile on his face and nods. "Of course. Us."
He knows it's silly, but his heart breaks a little as he squeezes back.
-
Silliness seems to follow Guanheng around, because it takes him a good few weeks to realise that he might have misunderstood Dejun in the hospital.
Guanheng falls into a terrible new habit of avoiding Dejun. He knows the other band members have noticed. He knows that Dejun has noticed. Dejun's puppy-dog eyes follow him around during rehearsals, confused and hurt. But Guanheng can't help it. He doesn't know how to act around Dejun now. He somehow can't bring himself to be Dejun's prince or his mischief buddy.
Guanheng can't avoid Dejun forever, though. Guanheng's self-imposed limbo is interrupted one quiet evening after dance practice. It's drizzling outside, just like that day on the beach.
Dejun is stretching in the corner of the practice room, and Guanheng is packing up his things. The other members and the choreographer have already left. Guanheng wasn't focusing hard enough on his Avoid Dejun mission, and now the two of them are alone together. Oh well. It was bound to happen sometime. Guanheng just hopes Dejun isn't mad at him.
Guanheng zips up his backpack and rolls his shoulders. He winces at the usual pinch in his shoulder.
Dejun looks up from where he's sitting on the floor. "Arrow wound still bothering you?"
Guanheng freezes in place.
He turns to look at Dejun slowly. "Pardon?" he half-whispers.
Dejun frowns for a moment, before understanding washes over his face. "Ah," he murmurs. "You thought I didn't remember the past-life stuff."
Guanheng sinks to the floor beside Dejun. "Well, yeah," he admits. "Or I thought your mind made it up to fill in the gaps from the amnesia. That's pretty much what you said to Yangyang, right?" He pauses. "And besides - you, uh. You have your old personality back."
Dejun grimaces. "I was just trying to get the guys off my back." He takes a deep breath, brow furrowed like he's trying to figure out what to say. "I don't know if it really was some kind of past-life regression, or if it was just my brain trying to make up for the amnesia. But it still feels real, to me." He studies Guanheng, looking unsure. "How do I put this...? I've got my current-self's personality back, but I still have my memories of that past life, too."
Guanheng breathes slowly, taking this in. "Can I ask you something...? What were we, back then?"
Dejun blushes. "Ah... From what I remember, we were married. Or we were essentially the equivalent of married. We were, like, pledged to each other."
"Oh." Guanheng feels a little breathless. But not in a bad way.
Dejun watches him anxiously. "Does that bother you...?"
Guanheng shakes his head. "No. Not at all."
Dejun sighs in relief. "I know I wasn't really myself when I said it - not the way I am now, at least - but I meant it when I said that maybe the reason we've been reunited in this life is just to be whatever we are now. And that maybe that's our form of healing. So, I really don't want to pressure you in any way. That's why I've been giving you space for the past few weeks."
Guanheng nods. He should have expected that. Dejun always understands him, even when Guanheng hasn't asked him to.
Still, another question is on his mind. "What are we now, though?"
Dejun gazes at him wistfully. It's modern Dejun - with all his complications - but there's still a hint of ancient Dejun behind that gaze. Somewhere in those depths, there's a refined sort of sadness. "Whatever you want," he murmurs. Heart exposed.
What Guanheng wants is to kiss Dejun right now.
He does. He falls into Dejun's arms, letting all of the tension and hesitation he's felt since this started just peel away. Dejun catches him willingly, with one steady hand on Guanheng's face and the other on the small of his back. Guanheng presses his lips against Dejun's soft ones, and allows himself to pour all of the love he feels for him into that kiss. Because this is love. He recognises it. He's recognised it from the start.
Guanheng runs his hands through Dejun's hair and deepens the kiss. Whatever sadness Dejun's been holding onto, Guanheng wants him to let go of it. None of that matters now. They are where they are. They're on the floor of a dance practice room, in a faraway city with rain washing the streets clean outside. Guanheng holds Dejun's body and his sorrow in his arms with just one thought in his mind - wash it away, wash it away, wash it away.
Dejun moans a little. It's not sexual - it's just raw. Guanheng adjusts his position, straddling Dejun's lap so he can kiss him deeper. Guanheng whispers to him with all the fervour of a wild new thing. "Let me make you feel good. Nothing matters. You've got me. Just be here with me, now." He continues on and on like that, whispering sweet nothings, grounding Dejun firmly in their fresh new life. In their youth. In the present.
Eventually, Dejun breaks the kiss. He leans back, taking in gulps of air. There's a pleasant flush on his face. He laughs as he puts a steadying hand on Guanheng's chest. "Okay, you're enthusiastic, I get it. Let's not get into trouble for defiling the practice room, though."
Guanheng nods, scrambling off Dejun's lap. "Oh. Yeah."
Dejun laughs again at the pout on his face and pecks him sweetly on the lips. "I'm enthusiastic too, babe. Let's pick this back up at the dorms?"
Guanheng beams. "Yeah, let's do that." He's embarrassing and he knows it, but he can't help it. It should have dawned on him way sooner. He's had a crush on Dejun for so, so long. He's been in love for so long. And that's all them - the current them. The past-life thing helped them along, sure. But Guanheng is certain that he always would have reached this conclusion.
Together, they make themselves presentable and leave the practice room. It's still raining, but not so badly that they can't walk home. And if Dejun gives Guanheng a genteel piggyback ride while Guanheng holds the umbrella, no one has to know.
There was always something timeless about them anyway.