Chapter Text
1.
The first time it happened, Jiaoqiu wasn’t sure what to make of it. He was sitting in his bed, pillows fluffed up around him, Feixiao and Moze fussing like he was some useless kit unable to do anything for himself. The bandages were itchy and tight on his skin and he could feel them everywhere. He couldn’t see anything. But he could still feel.
He felt Moze—because it had to be him, there hadn’t been so much as a footstep as he approached—come close. Very close. There was the slightest shift in the mattress, like Moze was supporting himself with one hand on Jiaoqiu’s far side. And then the faint tickle of warm air across Jiaoqiu’s lips.
Moze was, for some reason, hovering in front of him, closer than he had any real right to be. Not that Jiaoqiu minded, of course, but it was… surprising.
He wanted to ask Moze what he was doing but something held him back. Moze was never accidental in his actions; everything he did was precise and planned, not a movement wasted. It was unlike him to hesitate-—and for some reason, that’s what it felt like he was doing. Hesitating, hovering uncertainly, a breath away from Jiaoqiu.
Jiaoqiu wasn’t sure why it mattered, but he had the odd feeling that if he spoke, moved, or in any way reacted to Moze’s closeness, he’d scare him off. And Jiaoqiu was too curious to do that. He wanted to know the answers to his questions; to see what would happen if Moze found the courage.
So instead, he kept his face placid, kept his lips curved in the patient, indulgent smile he’d worn since Moze and Feixiao first burst into his home and set about tending to his every need. He didn’t let his ears twitch, despite the nearly silent sound of Moze’s breathing making them want to turn towards the sound, track it.
Moze didn’t move. Another exhale fanned across Jiaoqiu’s lips and he fought the urge to lick them in its wake. Not for the first time since waking, he longed viciously for his vision. But he knew somehow that if he could see, if there was a risk that he would open his eyes and see, Moze wouldn’t have come so close to begin with.
What did that mean, Jiaoqiu wondered. What did it mean that Moze was so close? What did it mean that he was afraid to be—because what other option was there, if he could only do it with Jiaoqiu in such a state?
Jiaoqiu didn’t want to jump to conclusions, but part of him couldn’t help but remember the way Moze had clung to him when he’d found him, bloodstained and barely clinging to life. There was something there, something that hadn’t been addressed before. Maybe that willful ignorance had run its course with the reminder of their own fleeting mortalities. Even a long lived race didn’t live forever, especially not with the lives they lived. Some things had to be taken in the moment or the chance would be lost forever. Fear made people braver; Jiaoqiu knew that firsthand.
Still, Moze did nothing. Jiaoqiu heard Feixiao in the other room, banging around in that way that only a general unused to a calm and peaceful home would have the audacity to. Moze took two more breaths, unmoving, and Jiaoqiu finally took mercy.
If Moze wasn’t brave enough to do what he wanted yet, that was alright. Jiaoqiu could be patient.
He let his lips quirk up, tilted his face away and towards the threshold, and called out to Feixiao as though Moze wasn’t even there; “You’d better not be breaking things, General. Do I need to come show you how to clean a house?”
Moze’s absence was felt more intensely than his leaving, his movements long since trained into near obscurity. One second he was there, the air warm around Jiaoqiu, and the next he was gone, somewhere imperceptible, steps silent as always.
“I’m not breaking shit,” Feixiao called back defensively. “Why are your cabinets so full? This is a safety hazard even if you aren’t blind!”
Jiaoqiu, a little unmoored at Moze’s sudden absence, forced a wider grin. “I know where everything is, don’t worry about me. I’m not useless, you know?”
Moze’s voice sounded, low and calm as always, from somewhere across the room to Jiaoqiu’s left. “You should be more careful. It’ll take time for you to adapt.”
Jiaoqiu turned his smile in the direction of Moze’s voice, ignoring the pain of the injuries across his throat and chest pulling taut at the action. “I’m not as blind as you might think, Moze,” he said softly. “There is more to the world than what you see.”
The world felt gone in so many ways, but he was a healer, trained in the many intricacies of the human body. He knew it was much more than any one sense, any one ability. It might take him some time to believe what his head already knew, but this had just been proof. The faint ghost of Moze’s breath, the warmth of his skin. Jiaoqiu didn’t need to see to know that much.
But then Moze didn’t answer and Jiaoqiu was disappointed to admit, to none but himself, that in his silence, Moze was lost to him. For all Jiaoqiu knew, Moze had disappeared entirely. Perhaps he truly was blinded in the ways that mattered.
2.
Jiaoqiu had finally been cleared—by healers other than himself—to leave his bed. His injuries were severe but he didn’t think they warranted all the fuss everyone had been making about them. He was a healer too, after all, surely he knew better than anyone else what his own limits were! He certainly had no plans to incapacitate himself any further, everyone should have a little more faith in this healer, he was just as well-learned as all the others!
But regardless. He was officially off bedrest! He could finally get off his tail and brush out the knots that had formed at the base after days of neglect. He could stretch his legs, go see- go hear the sea! He could make himself some hotpot, as spicy as he pleased without Moze and Feixiao’s reluctant hands in the kitchen!
Or so he’d thought. Naturally, it’d be too much to assume that either of his shadows would leave him be long enough to get some well deserved exercise in peace.
Feixiao was busy but her loyal shadow guard had taken the liberty to free himself from his usual duties and come tend to the weak and fragile Jiaoqiu instead. Most likely he’d even been ordered to do so, with strict instructions to report back to his general. Jiaoqiu let out a long suffering sigh. Such was the price one paid for sacrifice; one failed martyr and suddenly everyone was waiting on him hand and foot!
“Step down,” Moze said, quiet by Jiaoqiu’s side. As if Jiaoqiu would forget the layout of his own home just because he couldn’t see!
Jiaoqiu stepped down. And immediately stumbled, his body off balance as the ground met him sooner than expected.
“In front,” Moze bit out, solid hands grabbing Jiaoqiu and righting him before he could land on his already battered ass. “If you’d let me guide you-”
“No,” Jiaoqiu snapped, his face warm with an unwelcome mix of shame and frustration. Sliding one foot out, he felt the edge of the floor, a half step in front of where he’d tried to descend. His own home, as familiar to him as his own hands. And yet-
He ground his teeth in irritation. He would not let this defeat him, not after surviving what he had. He deserved to walk through his own home with dignity, not hanging onto the arm of his savior like some frail maiden.
He forced himself to take a deep breath and relax, gently brushing Moze’s hands off of him. “Thank you,” he said softly. “I can do it.”
Moze hovered, reluctant, but he didn’t take hold of Jiaoqiu. Jiaoqiu felt for the step again and descended on his own. His confidence was shaken but he’d known better than to expect perfection from himself unprompted. He’d just hoped he might have some time to try and fail in private, without the unwavering gaze of his- friends.
He could feel Moze following him. It was rare; Moze’s steps were silent and he usually kept enough of a distance that he truly became little more than a shadow. He was close now, though: enough to feel his warmth, enough for Jiaoqiu’s tail to brush his legs now and then. Close enough to catch Jiaoqiu if he stumbled again.
And stumble he did, shamefully trying to avoid running face first into a wall when he turned for a doorway a little too soon. Moze caught him instantly and Jiaoqiu’s temper flared. He shoved Moze away, turning his own body in the process, tired of having Moze at his back like a living crutch.
“I’m fine,” he said through gritted teeth, refusing the growl that threatened to enter his voice. He pressed his back to the wall behind him, solid and unchanging, so unlike the failing map in his mind. He let his head drop back against it and clenched his jaw, tail swishing furiously behind him. “I’m fine. I can- I can do this myself.”
Moze didn’t answer and if it weren’t for the feeling of him, Jiaoqiu would almost wonder if he’d vanished into thin air in that way he sometimes did. And then, as Jiaoqiu was calming his heart rate and pushing his temper down, he felt it.
Once again, Moze was too close, so close Jiaoqiu could swear he felt the soft brush of hair over his forehead. It caught Jiaoqiu off guard more than it had the first time. He wasn’t in that same mood—relieved to be awake, content to be cared for—and it threw him off balance. Why? Now?
But even like this, he couldn’t bear to push Moze away. His frustration was replaced by confusion and a tentative… anticipation, but he didn’t let it show on his face.
Even so, his voice was quieter when he spoke again, unable to lapse into silence without giving himself away but unwilling to startle Moze out of whatever trance he was in. “I will figure it out,” he murmured. “What good am I if I can’t even walk my own home?”
Moze was quiet for a long moment before he drew back; slowly this time, like he was dragging himself away. “You are good, even if you need help,” he said eventually, and the air left Jiaoqiu’s lungs in sudden breath. He deflated against the wall and offered Moze’s warmth, voice, presence, a weary smile. He once again wished, more than anything, that he could see. If only to know what sort of expression Moze wore when he spoke with such unfamiliar earnestness.
“It’s fine,” he said weakly, not sure how to feel as cool air brushed the same places Moze’s breath had warmed. “I’m tired, actually. I think I’ll just go back to my bed and rest.”
Moze moved again and Jiaoqiu could practically feel the intent in the air even though Moze didn’t reach out. Not yet, with Jiaoqiu’s resentment still lingering in the space between them. Jiaoqiu, suddenly exhausted in more ways than one, didn’t have it in himself to deny him. He held out an arm instead, not bothering to search for Moze.
“Help me back?” he asked, and Moze took him by the hand and pulled him close. One hand around Jiaoqiu’s and the other on the small of his back, Moze guided him back the way they’d come, quietly alerting him to steps and turns until they were safely back at Jiaoqiu’s bed.
Ashamed of how little progress he’d made and how poorly he’d handled himself, Jiaoqiu tried to keep himself collected for at least a little longer. He sat straight on the edge of the bed, posture stricter than his still-healing injuries cared for, and folded his hands in his lap. He managed a smile, though without Moze’s touch, he had no way of directing it towards him.
“Thank you, Moze. You can go now, I’ll be alright. Let this fox rest his bones, won’t you?”
Moze didn’t respond. Jiaoqiu waited for several long minutes until he couldn’t imagine that Moze would still be standing around waiting anymore, and then he felt his way under his covers, curled as tightly as he could without too much pain, and wondered how he would ever distinguish the ever present darkness from the blackness of night.
3.
Feixiao had insisted that Jiaoqiu teach her how to cook. Not because she didn’t think he could do it himself, but because his absence had made her aware of her own failings! Or so she insisted. Jiaoqiu, constantly fighting the unexpected exhaustion of navigating the world anew, had only been able to hold out so long.
Of course, Feixiao had decided to make an event of it. She’d bought all the ingredients and some wine to accompany their meal, and dragged Moze along as always. She’d pulled Jiaoqiu’s cauldron out to the courtyard of his home, settled Jiaoqiu firmly on a cushion, and demanded his most thorough and precise instructions.
Jiaoqiu hadn’t been reluctant, per se, but he definitely hadn’t anticipated how fun it would be either. The three of them were a ridiculous combination: Feixiao loud and dramatic in her failures as much as her successes; Moze, so highly capable in every way, absolutely confounded as he tried to make sense of Jiaoqiu’s instructions; and Jiaoqiu, blind as a bat, trying to guide his two useless friends through words alone. Of course, none of it was helped by their increasing intoxication as they sipped their wine throughout it all.
It didn't take long before he was smiling, the ridiculousness of the situation outshining even the dark cloud that seemed to have settled over his shoulders in the past weeks. By the end of it, once everything was simmering in the pot and smelling appetizing enough that Jiaoqiu was almost optimistic, he had laughed hard enough to worry he’d opened the scabs on his side and they had drained the pot of wine Feixiao had brought with her.
“This better be worth the trouble,” Feixiao demanded and Jiaoqiu laughed again at her impatience.
“It can’t be my expertise you doubt or you wouldn’t have asked me for guidance,” he teased. “Could it be that the great General Feixiao doubts her own prowess?”
Feixiao harumphed, a high and mighty sound that made even Moze snort in hard won amusement. “If anything, I’m left wondering what Moze has been doing with a blade all these years if that was the best he could do!”
“I’ll show you what I can do with a blade,” Moze rumbled menacingly, followed by the familiar sound of a dagger cutting through the air.
“Hah!” Feixiao crowed, expressive in her drunkenness, “It’s been too long since your last attempt, I almost thought you’d given up!”
Moze didn’t reply verbally, but from Feixiao’s cackle, Jiaoqiu could only assume a rude gesture had been made in her direction. He smiled to himself, happy that at least he could still enjoy this as he always had.
He heard Feixiao stand then. “This will take a while, won’t it?” she asked, and Jiaoqiu, assuming she meant their food, nodded his affirmation. “Good,” she said, cracking her spine in a quick stretch. “I’m going to find us more wine. Don’t let it burn.”
“Yes, General,” Jiaoqiu drawled, earning himself a flick to the innocent tip of his ear as Feixiao passed. And then it was just him, Moze, and the soft, familiar bubbling of the cauldron.
Jiaoqiu, loose with alcohol and happier than he’d been in a while, leaned back onto his hands and then further still, until he was flat against the worn stone of his courtyard. His face was turned towards the sky. Dark, surely, by now. Littered with stars, maybe.
“Moze,” he called, and Moze hummed softly from closer than he’d expected. Jiaoqiu tilted his face in that direction, just a little. “Is the sky pretty tonight?”
Moze was quiet. Then Jiaoqiu felt him settle down by his side, close enough that their arms almost brushed. Finally, Moze spoke. “Yes. The sunset was orange. There were a few clouds on the horizon and they reflected purple and pink.” After a moment, he tacked on: “Your hair looked like it was glowing.” Jiaoqiu smiled softly. Moze continued. “It’s dark now, almost purple. The clouds are gone and the stars are bright. The Guard of the Sun constellation is rising. In a few months, when it’s cold, it’ll be right above us.”
Jiaoqiu tried to imagine it. It was easier, he found, to envision the night sky than it was to envision a great many other things he’d tried to ‘see’ in the past weeks; the stars and planets lended themselves to the imprecision of memory, and the darkness of the sky was a default now. It wasn’t hard to make it more purple in his mind. It had been a familiar color to him in the end.
“Will you see it again?” Moze asked quietly. “Do you think?”
Jiaoqiu’s lips curled into a smile and he tried to keep bitterness from tinging it. “I didnt think I would survive at all,” he said honestly. “I don’t dare to think anything else. Whatever happens… I will adapt. You should know, that’s what we do. Isn’t it?”
Somewhere between his words, Moze had moved. In what was becoming an increasingly familiar sensation, Jiaoqiu felt Moze’s breath against his skin. From this close, he knew Moze wouldn’t reply, wouldn’t dare betray his closeness with sound. He was still unaware of Jiaoqiu’s own awareness and Jiaoqiu knew it was only that false sense of invisibility that gave him the courage to be so close at all. So he continued on as if he didn’t even know.
“I think,” he said carefully, a shiver running through him when his voice didn’t immediately chase Moze off, “that whatever happens, I’m lucky. I survived, but that alone wouldn’t make me lucky, not when it left me- left me like this. I’m lucky that I have you. And Feixiao, of course. I’m lucky that you are… my eyes. That you’ll tell me about the stars and learn to cook and-”
Moze moved so close Jiaoqiu swore he felt the brush of his nose against his cheek, and his breath caught, stealing his words before he could say them. Like an arrow loosed from a bow, Moze shot away, not so much as a stir in the air around Jiaoqiu as he moved. Jiaoqiu let out a long sigh.
“Sorry,” he murmured, as though apologizing for his own sentimentality and not the way he’d frightened Moze off like a skittish kit. “I shouldn’t need wine to tell you I’m grateful. Thank you, Moze, for being by my side.”
Moze, once more lying on the flat ground by his side, exhaled slowly. “I promised. I’ll keep it, even when you don’t want me.”
“I couldn’t,” Jiaoqiu said through a melancholic smile. “Never that.”
4.
Jiaoqiu hadn’t been out into the city proper in… quite some time. He’d gone to quieter areas, the outskirts where there weren’t people to bump into or unexpected obstacles to avoid. But he was tired of that. There was a new restaurant opening with a secret spicy sauce recipe, and he was going. End of story!
Of course, he wouldn’t be going alone. Feixiao would be late but she would be joining too. In the meantime, she’d sent Moze to accompany Jiaoqiu through the crowded streets and to the restaurant.
Jiaoqiu, perfectly capable of walking around his own home and courtyard by now, wasn’t so conceited that he’d turn down Moze’s aid in this particular task. He wouldn’t admit it, but the thought of the city… frightened him. It wasn’t just the fact that he couldn’t see in such a chaotic environment, but his other senses were sharper than they’d ever been. He was worried about how he might react, after so many weeks of calm and quiet, to the overstimulating experience of the city—smells and sounds and the unpredictable jostle of bodies.
Moze, as if sensing Jiaoqiu’s desire for more security than usual, once again took him by the hand, his other arm curling around Jiaoqiu’s waist to keep him close. Jiaoqiu was pressed firmly to the side of Moze’s chest, but even so close, all he could really focus on was- Well, the fact that focusing was impossible.
Everything was loud; from the voices of the people around him to the whirr of starskiffs above and in the distance. The restaurants and stalls all had their own smells wafting into the streets and the streets themselves had the underlying smell of city, and Jiaoqiu felt more disoriented than he had since he’d first woken up and found himself unable to open his eyes.
He didn’t realize how tightly he was gripping Moze’s hand until that low voice sounded in his ear, breath tickling his fur, urging him to relax, trust him.
“Yes,” Jiaoqiu managed, forcing his hand to loosen its crushing hold on Moze’s fingers. “Are we close?”
That was another thing. Moving at an aborted pace thanks to his own doubt and the ever changing crowds around them, Jiaoqiu had no idea where they were. He couldn’t even tell if they were still walking in the same direction with how many times they’d had to twist and turn around people or other obstructions in their path. It was… frightening, not having any idea where he was, not knowing how he would even be able to get out if he needed to-
“Soon,” Moze promised, and his presence was a reminder that Jiaoqiu wasn’t doing this alone. Moze-—his eyes, his compass—was by his side and he wasn’t letting go. “Okay?”
Jaioqiu bobbed his head in hesitant acceptance. He’d made it this far, surely he could make it the rest of the way. He’d survived countless battles, he’d seen the worst of the worst of the world; this wouldn’t be what undid him.
That was what he told himself, counting every step they took as one step less until their destination. And then he heard yelling from- from ahead? Around? It was impossible to tell with the voices all around them, with the closeness of the buildings trapping the sound, making it echo from every angle. He froze, his ears twitching in desperate need to locate the yells, to know what was going on.
The yelling grew louder. Something—someone?—slammed into him, sending him stumbling back and loose from Moze’s grip. More yelling, from all around him it seemed, and Jiaoqiu felt himself choke on the sudden well of panic in his throat.
He couldn’t feel Moze, he had no idea where he was, or if he’d gone far in the chaos. He had no idea what was happening, where he was, what to do- He could feel his hands shaking as he tried to reach out, not knowing what he would find around him. He was curling in on himself, his tail low and curling around the inside of his ankles. His ears were flat against his head, as if he could somehow block out the noise around him and disappear.
He tried to speak, gasped out a shaking “Mo-”
“Here,” Moze said, and he was suddenly enveloping Jiaoqiu, taking him into his arms and pulling him somewhere. Jiaoqiu stumbled as he tried to move, his body unresponsive even as he let himself be swept along.
There was a flurry of movement and noise, and then it was like they’d suddenly entered a bubble. The noise was still there, but muted, not all encompassing anymore. There was no press of people; only Moze. Somehow, the stillness only made Jiaoqiu more aware of his panic.
Moze pressed Jiaoqiu’s trembling body against a wall behind him and Jiaoqiu felt Moze at his front, arms up around him, encompassing him on all sides, shielding him from the chaos. “Jiaoqiu,” Moze murmured, low and soothing, “You’re safe, it’s okay. It was a pickpocket, she was running away and bumped into you. That’s all, you’re okay.”
“I don’t-” Jiaoqiu choked out. “I don’t know where I am.”
“We’re in an alley. Close to the restaurant.”
Jiaoqiu shook his head, frantic. It wasn’t enough. Even if he knew the building around him, it didn’t help. He didn’t know where he was on the cobbled street, in relation to people, in the world around him. “No, I- It’s not-” He couldn’t get it out. The words died in his throat, choked out by the rising hysteria. He shook his head again, and Moze’s hands were on him.
Moze held his face like something incredibly fragile, his fingers slipping into Jiaoqiu’s hair—freshly brushed, styled as carefully as he’d been able to manage by feeling alone, wanting to look his best for his first time in the city again—his thumbs feather-light against Jiaoqiu’s cheekbones. Jiaoqiu stilled at the touch, shockingly grounding as he became triply aware of Moze there, with him.
“We can go,” Moze promised. “I can take you home. Say the word.”
Jiaoqiu didn’t want to go home. He wanted to be able to go to a restaurant without panicking in the streets. He wanted his normal life back. He wanted to see.
He wanted quiet and the safety of familiar ground. He wanted to know that there weren’t strangers watching him fall apart in the middle of the street.
There was no way for him to have everything he wanted. He wouldn’t get his sight back, not right this second, anyway, and this- He would have to keep working up to it. He’d been hasty thinking he could do something like this after so many weeks of the comfort and safety of home.
He nodded, the movement limited by the confines of Moze’s hands. “Yes,” he whispered, and it sounded like defeat. Like relief.
Moze didn’t move, though. Jiaoqiu knew he was still trembling, still shaky where his hands had, without his knowing, at some point found the loose fabric of Moze’s jacket around his hips. He had a feeling that Moze wouldn’t take him back into the crowd until he’d calmed himself, so he tried his best.
It was easiest to start with his breathing. He counted his breaths, in and out, slow and steady. He let his tail relax, no longer tucked between his legs, and forced his ears back to neutral. He couldn’t let go of Moze yet, not when he still remembered the vivid panic of suddenly being separated in the crowd.
Moze seemed unhurried. His thumbs were stroking soothingly over Jiaoqiu’s cheeks. And he was- Was he closer than he had been? Was his forehead a hairsbreadth from Jiaoqiu’s? Was his nose nearly brushing Jiaoqiu’s own?
Jiaoqiu, all too aware of his own body as he tried to calm it, was suddenly just as aware of Moze’s. Still pinning him to the wall, still surrounding him. Now, his breath fanning across Jiaoqiu’s lips in that infuriatingly hesitant way it kept doing.
Jiaoqiu wanted to confront him. He wanted to ask him what he was doing- Or better yet, why? Why wasn’t he doing- doing what he so clearly wanted to do?
But he couldn’t. He couldn’t risk scaring Moze off, especially not now of all times. He forced himself to continue breathing: in for a four count, holding for seven, and exhaling slowly for eight. He felt an almost imperceptible shiver run through Moze as he breathed out and he realized that the same way he felt Moze’s breaths, Moze must be feeling each of his.
It made his next breath stutter, but he didn’t need the counting anymore. The panic had been shaken from him by something else, something stronger and hungrier. Something Jiaoqiu didn’t dare to feed into. Not now.
“I’m ready,” he whispered, meaning it in more ways than one. “Let’s go.”
Moze held him for a moment longer, as if weighing whether he was ready to let go yet, but finally stepped back a moment later. His hands slipped down from Jiaoqiu’s face, but he never truly released him. One hand took Jiaoqiu’s tugging him off the wall and back into Moze’s arms, and the other slipped around his waist like it belonged there.
“Mmn,” he grunted, a reticent agreement, and they stepped back towards the chaos of the street.
5.
Jiaoqiu stood by the railing, the cool breeze playing across his skin, catching his hair and making it dance in its gentle grasp. Before him, below him, he could hear the waves crashing.
He’d been able to get here by himself, somehow. The way was familiar and quiet, and he’d humbled himself to asking for assistance when he’d felt uncertain. And it had been worth it for this moment’s peace. He felt himself smile, genuinely, as he took it all in.
He couldn’t see the sea, couldn’t see the sky above, but that was okay. He could feel the air, smell the salt, hear the water far below, feel the faint warmth of the sun, filtered behind the clouds. He could also sense, somehow, the familiar presence of Moze somewhere behind him.
He hadn’t sensed him throughout his journey, so he couldn’t say for sure that he’d been followed, but he was certain that Moze was there for him. And even if he had been followed, he couldn’t completely bring himself to mind. Maybe Moze had been watching him, but he hadn’t interfered even once, and that was good enough.
Now, though, Jiaoqiu felt that it was a little silly for him to hang back, so far away, when he could be at Jiaoqiu’s side, enjoying the beautiful day beside him.
“Moze,” he called softly. “No need to hide.”
There was silence for a few long minutes, and then Moze’s voice, just to his left. “How did you know?”
Jiaoqiu shrugged with a smile. He’d grown more aware than ever of Moze’s presence lately. He was pretty sure he could sense him even when he was invisible to others, though he had no way of knowing, really. “They say that when someone loses a sense, the others develop to bridge the gap. Maybe I developed a sixth sense just for keeping track of sneaky crows…”
Moze let out a little huff of air—the closest he usually got to a laugh—and Jiaoqiu heard the near-silent rustle of fabric as he leaned against the railing as well. “You and the general. What’s the point of being invisible?”
Feixiao had always been too sharp to sneak up on, much to Moze’s annoyance. Jiaoqiu chuckled. “Maybe that’s the downside of trusting people. You can never be invisible to the ones who care about you. Not even the blind ones,” he teased, flicking his ear in a playful manner. It was the closest he could get to a wink, and he heard Moze snort a silent laugh again.
They settled into silence then, broken by the sounds of the sea. It was Moze who spoke then. “The sun is low. At this time of year, it doesn’t rise as high. It looks small, too. Distant.”
“I feel it,” Jiaoqiu murmured, turning his face up to catch the light, nothing more than muted warmth to him. “It’s getting cooler.”
Moze hummed in agreement. Jiaoqiu felt like he was being watched. He didn’t mind, not if it was Moze. “It’s still bright, though. It’s cloudy today, but the clouds all look like they’re glowing with the sun behind them.”
“Is it gray?” Jiaoqiu asked, picturing a stone colored sky, the waves below as silver as a polished mirror.
“Not quite,” Moze mused. “The sun is gold. Pale, like your-” He broke off, but Jiaoqiu didn’t feel the words like a sting. He felt warm instead.
“Like my eyes?” he asked, picturing the familiar washed out color of his own eyes, back when he could open them, see them.
Moze made a tight sound, confirming. “It’s- Yes. And the sky is pink.”
Jiaoqiu smiled. “Like my hair?”
Moze grunted again. Jiaoqiu painted the scene in his mind; pale and muted, pink and gold, the haze of clouds softening the edges of the world. The waves were probably glittering, the colors dancing across their surface and breaking as they crashed, sending up sprays of pearlescent foam like shattered rainbows over the rocks.
“It sounds beautiful,” Jiaoqiu whispered. How kind of the world to dress itself in colors so familiar to him, colors he could see even now. “Thank you.”
Moze was quiet, as he often was. “It is,” he finally said, and he must have stood again because his voice was up by Jiaoqiu’s ears again, not down by the railing.
Jiaoqiu turned to face him, tilting his head at the long-since familiar angle he needed to make eye contact with him. Not that it mattered much now, but still. It was nice to feel Moze’s gaze squarely on him, the way he was used to. Even if he couldn’t see, it felt right.
“You talk more now,” Jiaoqiu told him. His voice was quiet. He didn’t need to speak loudly to Moze. Not ever, but especially not from this close.
Moze hesitated. “It’s all I can do,” he finally said. “How else will you see?”
Jiaoqiu’s heart stuttered in his chest, a warm and giddy feeling. “I see,” he refuted with a grin. “In other ways, I know the world around me. I can hear and smell and feel. I know I’m by the sea, I know the sun is weak and the clouds are thin. I know you’re here with me.”
“You can’t see everything,” Moze murmured. “You can’t-” He cut himself off, and suddenly Jiaoqiu felt him, so very close again. He kept his smile, kept his head tilted at the same angle, not turning his face up towards where Moze’s would be at such a distance.
He wondered if Moze was thinking about all the other times, about Jiaoqiu’s apparent blindness to his failed attempts. His bravery and his cowardice at war with each other, but only in the shadows where he thought Jiaoqiu wouldn’t know.
“I don’t need to,” Jiaoqiu offered softly. “I see enough. I know enough.”
Moze made a frustrated sound in the back of his throat, as if forgetting that Jiaoqiu would hear his nearness even if he hadn’t felt it already. Jiaoqiu let him have it, didn’t give him away.
“But,” he continued, wondering if Moze could feel the warmth of his words on his lips, “I want you to keep telling me. Keep being my eyes. You will, won’t you?”
Moze was so, so close. Jiaoqiu wondered if this would be the moment, wondered if Moze would finally let himself take what he wanted-
Moze sucked in a ragged breath, and by the time he exhaled, he was no longer in Jiaoqiu’s space. Jiaoqiu didn’t let the disappointment show.
“Yes,” Moze said simply. “I will.”
Jiaoqiu turned back to the sea with a sigh. “Then we’ll have to go see many more things together, you and I.”
Moze didn’t respond with words, but he moved. Jiaoqiu felt the warm press of a body to his own. Shoulder to shoulder, they stood and watched the sea. Jiaoqiu, comforted by the sound and the cool air, found himself leaning into Moze, content. Moze, his silence so deeply ingrained it had become a part of him, opened his mouth and spoke, his voice as soothing as the waves, as he told Jiaoqiu everything he could see.