Work Text:
It’s unfair for Feng Xin to live next door to someone who infuriates him the most.
Their bedroom windows were parallel to each other; they could see the other one whenever they wanted, but they wouldn’t do that because they hated each other! He had no idea why the boy next door hated him from the moment he laid eyes on Feng Xin. So yes, it’s not Feng Xin’s fault; he hated him back because he started it anyway.
Their mothers were close friends—best friends, in fact. They expected their children who had the same age to be as close as they were, but no, Feng Xin and that boy just couldn’t get along, never, they would never ever be “best friends.” They were like oil and water.
They would never be friends.
—
Feng Xin threw a clay to the window that was parallel to his; the window soon slid open, revealing a teenager with long, silky dark hair tied into a ponytail, his deep, almost black eyes glaring at him. Behind the teenager, Feng Xin could spot the room all clean and organized, which was the complete opposite of his. Typical and fitting for someone like him.
“Mu Qing!” Feng Xin shouted. “What the fuck, get ready! We’re almost late for school!”
Mu Qing rolled his eyes—that means “Fine, just shut up”—and picked up his bag before slamming his window shut.
Feng Xin furrowed his brows. “How disrespectful,” he murmured before picking up his own bag to follow Mu Qing outside who was already waiting for him.
“You’re the one who threw dirt on my window to remind me, and yet you’re the one who got down later. Ugh, you’re so stupid.” Mu Qing grumbled.
“Hey! I was later than you because I had to fucking remind you! If I didn’t, you wouldn’t even get down!”
“Ugh, so annoying… could you shut up while we walk?” Mu Qing turned his head towards Feng Xin. “You already messed up my window, you better clean it when we get home,” he said, rolling his eyes as he turned his head back to walk.
HE WAS SO ANNOYING!
Why did Feng Xin even waste his time to become this ungrateful brat’s alarm? Feng Xin really wanted to pluck out those pretty eyes of his! Pretty? Fine, yes, he had pretty eyes, but that’s only a fact! Feng Xin was not stupid enough to deny something that was true. He was at least willing to admit those eyes could effortlessly draw another person in; Mu Qing’s hair had an intoxicating fragrance that could send someone to daydream; and oh, don’t even get him started with those red and soft cherry lips of his that could make Feng Xin’s stomach turmoil—
“Feng Xin!” He was snapped back to reality.
“Hello??” Mu Qing snapped his fingers twice in front of Feng Xin. “Earth to Feng Xin?? Are you there???”
Heat started to rise to Feng Xin’s cheeks. Subconsciously, he raised his forearm to cover half of his face.
“Y-yeah, sorry…” He said, muffled through the fabric.
Mu Qing clicked his tongue and pulled his free hand. “We’ll really be late if you don’t get your shit together.”
Feng Xin stared at that hand as he was pulled inside the school.
Maybe Mu Qing wasn’t so bad.
—
“So, I’m joining the musical theatre, how about you?” Mu Qing had his legs straddling his chair to face Feng Xin, his arms propped on his desk.
“Arts club!” He leaned back as he crossed his arms with a smug on his face.
He was rewarded with a look of a grimace. “I shouldn’t have asked.”
“What’s so wrong with an art club?!”
“No no—” Mu Qing waved his hands before returning them to rest on Feng Xin’s desk. “—It was just such an obvious answer, I don’t know why I even asked.”
Indeed, Feng Xin had been expressing himself with art materials ever since he was born. Mu Qing was with him, understood the form of art, but only chose to admire as he stroked on paper and walls, he always preferred to stand by, so it was a surprise to Feng Xin when Mu Qing said he would be joining the musical theatre.
Feng Xin huffed. “Hmph! Why are you even joining the musical theatre anyway? Can you even dance, sing, and act?”
“I don’t know.” Mu Qing shrugged. “I just wanted to explore.”
“Right, you’ve always been doing that.”
“That’s not true, sewing is still my signature hobby.”
“Right, speaking of which—my favorite pants ripped, can you…please?”
Mu Qing stared at him with a look of, “Dumb oaf, I don’t want to”—before schooling his expression.
“Your pants are getting too tiny for you; buy another pair.”
“But it’s my favorite, please?”
“It’ll rip again.”
“You’ll fix it again!”
“Are you really gonna depend on me for every little thing?”
“Please???” Feng Xin used his puppy eyes—when he uses them he knows Mu Qing will give in and say yes to everything he asks!!
“…fine.”
IT WORKED! Feng Xin had to resist making a victory pose.
—
Months had passed since school started. Feng Xin had his own circle of friends, while Mu Qing focused on his musical theatre. He had what he called “acquaintances” or “co-workers.”
Feng Xin honestly thought Mu Qing wouldn’t last long in musical theatre, he always lost interest before he could start anything aside from sewing, but he did. He was still practicing in the club every day for an upcoming performance this Friday.
“You’re coming.” Mu Qing blinked at him, they were standing in front of their lockers in the hallway.
“Are you even asking?”
“No, I don’t need to ask.”
Feng Xin rolled his eyes, a habit he picked up from his best friend.
He soon felt a hand resting on his shoulder.
“Y-you are coming, right?”
God, Feng Xin couldn’t help the smirk on his face.
“Of course I am, fucking dumbass.”
Relief flooded to Mu Qing’s expression before rolling his eyes at Feng Xin. “I’ll be saving you a seat up front.”
He smiled, “Alright,” resting his arm around Mu Qing’s shoulder as he curled his finger around a part of Mu Qing’s ponytail.
Mu Qing turned away from him, but Feng Xin, with his 20/20 vision, could see the light red-tinted blush that was painted on his cheek. He’s just embarrassed.
—
“Psst!”
It was still Wednesday afternoon. Mu Qing looked over his shoulder to glance at Feng Xin.
“What?” he whispered, almost scolding.
“Give me your hand.”
“No.”
“Just fucking give it to me.”
With a sigh, Mu Qing slowly held out his hand below Feng Xin’s desk, eyeing their teacher, who was teaching about the Limits of Theorem.
“Hurry up or I’ll smack that shitty grin off your face.”
A folded piece of paper landed on his hand, and Mu Qing accepted it. He looked at their teacher again with his fluttering lashes before opening the folded paper.
Feng Xin swore that he had that light smile photographed into his brain.
The bell rang, and their last class has ended. The students had started to pack up their bags as their teacher announced about the homework they would be doing.
Feng Xin locked eyes with Mu Qing.
“I have practice.”
Feng Xin nodded. “I know, I’ll be at my clubroom then.” He glanced at Mu Qing’s hand that was sliding the piece of paper inside his pocket. “Come by when you’re finished.”
“Alright.”
They parted ways at the threshold. Mu Qing had practice, and Feng Xin did his own thing while he waited.
—
Feng Xin actually had no idea what he’d be doing in the clubroom, but this was where he always passed time while he waited for Mu Qing. Mu Qing always took about two hours to finish practice, sometimes more than that. But Feng Xin didn’t mind, he could finish an art piece in two hours. It was the time he needed to pass time and before he knew it, Mu Qing would be leaning on the threshold, calling for him.
But this time, he felt blank. No, more like—he had something specific in mind but was too hesitant to try.
Sitting on one of the vacant seats with his a sketchpad and a pencil in hand. He was alone; it’s usually just him in the clubroom when class is dismissed. The arts club didn’t have many members as well, and the members always went home after hanging out for ten minutes. So Feng Xin was always in charge of locking up the clubroom.
With his left leg on top of the other, he started to stroke lines.
Each stroke is thin and messy.
The tip of his pencil trailed over a perfect nose line to a nice, well-shaped upper lip.
Feng Xin bit his lips before licking them.
He squinted his eyes, focusing on the eyes he was drawing on paper, making sure he captured the impression he was trying to interpret.
With a light smile on his face, mirroring the smile he created on the paper.
He subconsciously started to touch his strands of hair while he drew the wave of strokes. A ponytail and a…curtain bangs? Wait—what—who did he draw???
The door of the clubroom opened, and he saw Mu Qing’s figure before he landed his eyes on Mu Qing’s. They stared at each other. Mu Qing was sweating, his uniform was soaking wet, and if he turned around, Feng Xin would surely see his back outlined, his hair slightly disheveled, and hooks of strands stuck to his forehead. Mu Qing’s eyes glanced at Feng Xin’s sketchpad, and his brow raised.
“You drew me?” He stepped inside to have a closer look at Feng Xin’s sketchpad. “Hm, interesting.”
Feng Xin instantly closed his sketchpad, surprising Mu Qing.
Even with his wheat-colored skin, he could feel he was red; he was so red! He immediately covered his face with his forearm.
“N-no! That was just someone r-random!”
“Sure, as if there could be anyone else who has that hairstyle.” Mu Qing teased.
“Anyone can wear a ponytail! Even me!”
Mu Qing stepped closer to the teenager, he untied his hair and ran his fingers through locks of brown hair.
“They could never be as thick as mine, though.” He grins.
He was so flustered. His temperature was rising to his neck and his cheeks, and his heart was pounding so hard. He didn’t know why he was feeling like this.
“Shut the fuck up and let’s go home!” He had no other way out of this.
“Can I see your art though? I want to look at it more,” Mu Qing said as his hand returned to his side.
“No, shut up!” he said while he started to pack his things, and hell, he really wanted to wipe that smirk off Mu Qing’s face.
“Hm, fine. I won’t force you—ah!”
A sketchpad was thrown at Mu Qing’s chest, and his lips curled up lightly as he opened the sketchpad.
“Ha! It is me!”
“Yeah, fuck you. Give me your bag.”
“I can carry it myself.” He glanced at Feng Xin while flipping over his sketches.
Feng Xin grabbed the hook of his backpack and pulled.
“Give it to me.”
“No way.”
Mu Qing pulled away, rolling his shoulder from Feng Xin.
“Give it.”
“Or what?”
“Or…ugh, shut the fuck up and just give it to me.” Mu Qing chuckled and surrendered his bag to Feng Xin, tossing it.
“Don’t complain to me when we get home.”
They left the clubroom with Feng Xin’s hair untied.
—
He did in fact complain as they went home, it was like music to Mu Qing’s ears, seeing that he kept chuckling as he flipped over the sketchpad’s pages when walking.
“Mu Qing!” Feng Xin huffed. “Take it back, my arms are sore!”
“I told you I could carry it myself; face the consequence of your action.”
His hair was swaying in a ponytail as he walked and Feng Xin had to watch as he was falling behind.
He rushed to Mu Qing’s side and glared at him. Mu Qing gave him a sneer while he distanced himself with Feng Xin’s sketchpad.
With more shouting from Feng Xin and Mu Qing’s chuckling, they arrived at the Mu household’s doorstep with the sun setting from afar.
Mu Qing opened the door and invited Feng Xin inside.
A woman was behind the kitchen counter, facing them. She looked a lot like Mu Qing but she tied her hair into a bun. And a young teenager, about fifteen years old, was sitting on the couch watching tv; he had an eye patch on his right eye. Glancing at them, he eyed Feng Xin from head to toe and scoffed. That made Feng Xin’s blood boil! He wondered how that kid was even related to Mu Qing! But then again, looking at Mu Qing and his attitude—he wonders not.
“A’Xin!” The woman smiled.
“Good evening, Huan-mama,” Feng Xin said as he bowed his head after he walking over to Mu Huan, his eyes turning crescent with a smile.
Mu Huan remained smiling and tilted her head to look at Mu Qing, who was following Feng Xin from behind. “Welcome home, Qing’er.”
“I’m home, mama.” Mu Qing turned after smiling at Mu Huan to sit beside the other boy. “Hey, A’Cheng, I’m home.”
“Whatever…” Hua Cheng grumbled.
Although Feng Xin has known Mu Qing since they were children, he has only known Hua Cheng for a few years. Hua Cheng has only been living in the Mu household for 3 years; he and Mu Qing had the same parents. It’s just that—Hua Cheng lived with his father until he passed away. Feng Xin knew Hua Cheng had a hard time adjusting to Mu Huan and Mu Qing, especially when his father used to refuse to see them. Hua Cheng just lost that father and didn’t know who to trust; it was hard. But they made it through, and Hua Cheng finally felt comfortable living with them.
Mu Qing rested his arms on the back of the couch before looking at Feng Xin—“What the hell are you doing there? Sit down, idiot.”—he didn’t say it out loud, but Feng Xin just knew.
He hooked their bags on their hook stand before walking over to Mu Qing to sit on his lap.
“WHAT THE FUCK—”
“Language!”
“Sorry mama…” Mu Qing apologized and soon turned to Feng Xin with a loud scowl. “Feng Xin!”
Feng Xin was too satisfied as he felt Mu Qing squirm beneath him, his little brother chuckling at the side, and his mother focused on chopping vegetables for dinner. He wasn't getting off; it was his unreasonable and petty revenge.
—
Feng Xin waved them goodbye and thanked them for the dinner. He returned home to an empty house.
His mother and father often work late; they were too busy for Feng Xin. He didn’t mind though; it has always been like this. At least he had Mu Qing to keep him company over their windows.
Mu Qing did keep him company that night, in another way.
The window parallel to his had its lights opened, and Feng Xin could see a figure, a shadow, dancing through the curtains. He stared. It was graceful; he had no other words to describe its motion. But it was beautiful; it was majestic, almost like a story.
Feng Xin propped his chin on the frame as he had his eyes focused on every limb that flowed in the air.
Really, Mu Qing was amazing.
A few hours had passed, and his eyelids started to give up on him. The window he was staring at slid open, with a surprised Mu Qing.
“O-oh, how long have you been there?”
“Few hours…” he said, his voice raspy from sleepiness.
Feng Xin’s face was hit by a pillow, jolting him awake.
“WHAT THE—”
“GET SOME GOOD SLEEP, DUMBASS!” and the window slammed shut, followed by the room blinking dark.
And he did, in fact, get a good sleep.
—
It was finally Friday.
Feng Xin was sitting beside Hua Cheng, his chin propped, and wasn’t even planning to pay attention to any of his brother’s performances, but he came anyway. Kudos to him, Feng Xin thought
As Feng Xin looked around the venue, it was packed. So many people were still standing behind him, chatting and laughing with their friends; they were mostly talking about the actor Xie Lian, who would be playing the main character, Feng Xin heard. The wooden stage was still empty with its maroon curtains, and then he realized—Mu Qing really did save him a seat, and he had the best view out of everyone else! Mu Qing must have fought and argued with the other members for this seat; he has always been stubborn when he feels like it. Feng Xin felt guilty, but the fluttering in his stomach kept bothering him the whole intermission.
The maroon curtains had closed, and it brought everyone’s attention, including Hua Cheng, who just recently took out his phone to pass time.
Before the narration started, everyone was already at their seats with starry eyes, while Feng Xin was only waiting for Mu Qing.
Distant music started playing, slowly getting louder and louder as seconds passed.
Then the curtains opened. Feng Xin, who was sitting up front, had his eyes glued to the man in front of him. He had a funny mask—a monster’s. But from his physique, the hair Feng Xin always brushed and had to look at from behind every day, and the sliver of pale skin that easily turns red, Feng Xin recognized that this was his Mu Qing.
And he was holding a nine-foot sabre, clearly taller than him despite being five-foot-eleven. Mu Qing gripped the sabre tightly and fought around it—well, more like, danced around it with all the minor characters coming at him.
Mu Qing easily climbed the sabre and kicked the people with his flexible legs; how did he do that??? With the sabre in his hand again, Feng Xin saw that smirk under the mask, and it made his heart rise more than it should. His raven hair flowed with his dark robes as he started to slice his enemies gracefully out of the way; it all felt so natural. How could something so gruesome look so beautiful in Feng Xin’s eyes? Maybe because it was Mu Qing.
Everyone behind him started murmuring, but Feng Xin didn’t mind, he had his eyes locked on his best friend.
As if Feng Xin were close to Mu Qing, he saw him click his tongue in irritation but keep on dancing. He spun around to clear his path, and sweat glistened out of Mu Qing. Feng Xin had his lips slightly parted, but he hadn’t noticed that yet.
Moments later, a man with a golden mask, and dressed in white robes with red and golden colors accents flew to the stage.
They fought with Mu Qing one-on-one, and for the show, he clearly had the upper hand.
But Feng Xin has never taken his eyes off Mu Qing for even a moment. He didn’t back down; he fought with all his might, even making the white-clad stumble in his steps. This was his Mu Qing.
Feng Xin already started smiling, familiar with his stubbornness.
Feng Xin had his mouth clasped when the white-clad man broke Mu Qing’s mask. Holy fucking shit, he was wearing makeup. Red eyeliner was drawn on his upper and lower eyelids, and dark neutral eyeshadow made his eyes pop. He was smirking with furrowed eyebrows. Fuck, shit, holy fucking shit! It was suddenly getting hard to breathe for Feng Xin. It was hot, and he felt his sweat make its way down to his neck and to his collarbone. He suddenly felt like kissing the tinted lips he’d been staring at.
The show has ended before he knew it. He and Hua Cheng immediately went to the backstage to see Mu Qing. When they did, Feng Xin felt his breath hitch when Mu Qing looked at them with his fierce eyes; locks of hair stuck to Mu Qing’s skin as he walked over to them, smirking. Feng Xin only froze and waited for him to come over. Fuck, he was even more gorgeous up close.
“So, did you enjoy the show?” He asked while wiping the sweat from his forehead, please don’t do that.
Hua Cheng grabbed his robes so suddenly and started pulling them and asking him questions about the white-clad man, it was annoying. Feng Xin wanted to talk to Mu Qing about Mu Qing; he wanted to shower him with compliments because, fuck, he did that well. Mu Qing patted Feng Xin’s shoulders; his expression must have given it away.
“He’s at the back; you can go talk to him.” Hua Cheng nodded excitedly and ran to where Mu Qing pointed. Seriously? He wouldn’t even greet Mu Qing a welcome home the other day.
But that’s fine; Feng Xin finally had Mu Qing’s full attention. Fuck Hua Cheng.
Mu Qing’s hand slid from his shoulder to his forearm, calling for his attention.
“So? Did you enjoy?”
He couldn’t breathe, and he didn’t know why.
“I…i-it was…”
He was nervous; he really didn’t know why.
“It was…r-really…uhm…”
Talk, he should be able to talk normally.
“R-really good.”
He clasped his mouth and turned away. Why were his cheeks painfully burning? Is he sick?
“Is that all?”
“What?”
His head returned to look at Mu Qing.
“I thought you would’ve said more, there seems to be a lot going on in your mind, did my beauty enchant you?” His tone was teasing.
“Yes.”
Silence filled the room; both eyes widened. Even Feng Xin was astonished by his reply. It just suddenly slipped. No, it was not sudden. He’s been thinking about how to compliment Mu Qing ever since he saw him on stage.
“You’re gorgeous.”
It was Mu Qing’s turn to stumble with his words. “I-idiot…! S-shut up!”
“Really…stunning.” Feng Xin stepped closer to Mu Qing, it was Mu Qing’s turn to blush and turn away his head.
“Feng X-Xin! Ick!” Mu Qing hipped when Feng Xin had his palms on his waist. “What are you doing?!”
“You… you really make me go crazy; are you doing this on purpose? Because it’s working.” Feng Xin had his hand on Mu Qing’s jaw, the other on his waist, and his forehead to Mu Qing's. They both stood frozen for a few moments, looking into each other’s eyes. Mu Qing’s deep, almost black eyes. This close, Feng Xin could see the brown on his iris. This close, he could see his skin turning red. This close, he could see how his lips slowly parted.
This close, he really wanted to kiss his tinted lips.
And he did, pressing their lips softly. It was so soft—so gentle. Mu Qing tensed and stood perfectly still before Feng Xin slowly pulled away.
“You’re not gonna punch me?”
Mu Qing glanced down, moving his hands to Feng Xin’s waist. “No…”
His lips curled up so widely that it hurt. He pressed another kiss to Mu Qing’s flushed cheek and wrapped his arms tightly around him.
Mu Qing returned the embrace by putting his hands on Feng Xin’s back. “I hate you, Feng Xin.”
“Of course you do.”
—
Feng Xin was twenty-seven now. He moved into his apartment happily with his ten-year relationship with his boyfriend, Mu Qing. Who has also been present in his life ever since he opened his eyes with consciousness.
He’s always been there.
“A’Xin, come over here.”
Feng Xin entered their bedroom. Mu Qing was sitting on the floor, rummaging through their boxes to settle in.
“Yes, Qing’er?”
“I found your sketchpad back when we were seventeen.”
“Oh?” Feng Xin raised a brow before sitting next to Mu Qing. “And?”
“You drew…”
“Yeah?”
“You drew me…a lot.”
“I did.” Feng Xin shrugged.
“Is this why you never showed me your sketchpad again after we started dating?” Mu Qing was looking at Feng Xin now.
Feng Xin raised his hand to his chin, as if he were pondering. “Hmm…maybe?”
“You fucking simp.” Mu Qing sneered.
Feng Xin suddenly leaned in on Mu Qing, pressing his lips to his neck, behind his ear. “Can’t help it, you’re fucking gorgeous…Qing’er.”
“You really are… insufferable.” Mu Qing slid his hand over to grab Feng Xin’s locks of hair.
“Hm…” Feng Xin hummed, resuming to kiss Mu Qing’s skin.
It’s unfair for Feng Xin to live with his used-to-be next-door neighbor, who infuriates him the most.
With no distance between them, Feng Xin couldn’t resist giving his boyfriend affection every single day and night.