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Come rest your bones next to me
Xià Fěi sat in the dark, his hands clenched into fists against his knees, his breath uneven, his heart heavy, Vein's coat draped over him. The world around him felt like an echo, a hollow place where Vein's presence had been torn away, leaving behind only silence and the unbearable weight of absence. It wasn't supposed to end like this. Vein wasn't supposed to just—stop. He wasn't supposed to leave without a warning, without giving Xià Fěi the chance to say goodbye. The sheer finality of it made him feel like he was drowning, gasping for air in a world that had lost its meaning.
And toss all your thoughts to the sea
His fingers curled tighter, nails digging into his palm as his mind replayed the last time he had seen him. There had been no signs, no gasping last words, no fading goodbye. Just life one moment and death the next. It made Xià Fěi sick, made him feel like he was suffocating under the weight of everything left unsaid. He had always assumed there would be more time. More time to talk, to laugh, to bicker, to say all the things he had been too afraid to voice; but time had been merciless, snatching Vein away before he even had a chance to realize how much he needed him.
I'll pull up each of our anchors
He needed him. More than he'd ever admitted. Vein had been steady in the way that Xià Fěi never was, grounding him with his presence, with his sharp remarks and quiet glances. He had been an anchor Xià Fěi hadn't known he was tied to, holding him in place even when he felt like he was spiraling. Now there was nothing but the ache of missing him, of knowing he would never get another moment. No more lazy evenings spent in quiet companionship. No more teasing remarks. No more sharp, knowing glances from across a crowded room. Just a void where Vein had once been, stretching wider with every passing second.
So we can get lost, you and me
"You bastard," Xià Fěi muttered, his voice trembling. "How could you—?" The words caught in his throat, burning, bitter. He wasn't sure who he was cursing more—Vein, for leaving him behind, or himself, for never realizing how much Vein had meant to him until it was too late.
Hidden beneath all my worries and doubts
Xià Fěi tilted his head back, eyes burning, his whole body trembling with the force of grief, loss, betrayal clawing at his chest. He wished he could scream, wished he could grab onto something and tear it apart because at least then the pain wouldn't be stuck inside him, ripping him apart from within, but there was nothing to fight, no enemy to take his rage out on. Just death. Cold, indifferent, and final. Final, final, final. Death was a cruel thing. Time was a cruel thing. Vein was a cruel thing.
My heart is buried in Venice
Whatever—whoever—had taken Vein away from him, he wouldn't let it go unanswered. A cardiovascular attack? That was what they said, but Xià Fěi refused to accept it as just that. There had to be something more, some reason Vein was gone, and he wasn't going to rest until he found it. Powers, maybe? If there was someone responsible, if there was even the slightest chance this wasn't just fate, he was going to find them. And then, and then—
Waiting for someone to take it home
His breath hitched. What would it change? It wouldn't bring Vein back. Wouldn't let him hear his voice again, wouldn't let him fix whatever had gone wrong between them before it was too late. It wouldn't let him say what he should have said a thousand times over. He clenched his jaw, hating the helplessness curling inside him like a sickness. Vein had been everything—his friend, his protector, his constant. Without him, Xià Fěi felt like a ship cut loose in a storm, drifting aimlessly in a sea too vast and too cruel.
Even when you try to hide it
"I need you," Xià Fěi whispered, voice breaking. "I don't know how to do this without you."
A smile creeps out from your teeth
But the only answer was silence. He was waiting for Vein to tease and squabble about sentiments. Vein, I need you.
I never thought that I would have to say, "I'm sorry"
He reached for his phone, scrolling through old messages, re-reading conversations, listening to Vein's voice messages on loop. His voice, once endearing, now felt like a cruel ghost haunting the empty room. Xià Fěi wanted to reach into the screen and pull Vein back, to shake him and tell him he wasn't allowed to leave, but all he could do was press replay again and again, his chest tightening as the sound of Vein's laughter, Vein's playful scolding filled the air, only to vanish as quickly as it came.
For anyone but me
His mind drifted, unbidden, to memories of Vein—moments that now felt like distant dreams.
Now my heart is buried in Venice
He remembered the way Vein had saved him during his first photoshoot, how those two models had tried to drown him out of petty jealousy. The panic, the sheer terror of sinking, lungs burning as he thrashed, only to feel strong hands pulling him up. Vein was grinning, composure calm, sharp voice slicing through the chaos after he dragged Xià Fěi out of the water; and after? Instead of just leaving him there, he had extended a hand—offering him something permanent, something Xià Fěi had never known he needed. A job. A place by his side. Without his usual hesitance, Xià Fěihad taken it, because even then, he had known that Vein was different.
Waiting for someone to take it home
He remembered the night they had almost been beaten up by drunk sports fans, how he had accidentally gotten Cheng Xiaoshi, and Lu Guang in danger. The wild, violent eyes of men looking for a fight, the sheer panic of being cornered in an alleyway after he called for Vein. And then—Vein. Vein appearing out of nowhere, stepping between them and danger like it was the most natural thing in the world. Maybe it was. After all, Vein always came immediately right after Xià Fěi had called for help. Xià Fěi could still hear his voice, could still visualize how he defended Xià Fěi and his friends. What to do if you injured his face?
Say, say what you mean
He remembered the way he had complained about how abnormal and weird it was for someone to call people tasty after Vein had asked where his friends went after the incident. Still, you shouldn't say someone looks "tasty"! Right after, Vein had flicked his forehead playfully. I clean up your mess, and I get a lecture in return? Vein had only laughed, flicking him again, making him shake in pain—until Vein’s hand landed on the top of his head, patting him softly in such an endearing way. The warmth of that small gesture had stilled him. And now, he would never feel it again. Never. He would do anything just to feel that comfort one more time, so he could cherish it.
Tell me the truth, or tell me you're through
Vein's coat. Xià Fěi squeezed his eyes shut, his breath hitching. That stupid coat. The one Vein had thrown over his shoulders whenever Xià Fěi complained about the cold. The one that had smelled like him, that had been too big, too warm, too Vein. Xià Fěi still had it when Vein had given it to him after his photoshoot with Cheng Xiaoshi and Lu Guang. Still clung to it like it might somehow bring Vein back, but it was just fabric, just a cruel reminder that Xià Fěi would never again hear Vein laugh about how he always felt cold, never again feel that solid presence at his side.
Don't leave me to breathe
His apartment felt colder without him, even the warmth of Vein's coat couldn't bring him the sweet solace he was yearning for. The world outside kept moving, indifferent to the hollow ache spreading in Xià Fěi's chest. People laughed, walked by, continued their lives while he sat frozen in time, stuck in the moment where everything changed. He hated it. Hated how the world could just move on as if Vein had never existed. He didn't know how to move on, how to exist in a world where Vein wasn't there to remind him to eat, to watch his back, to drag him out of trouble. How was he supposed to go forward when the person who had always pulled him back from the edge was gone?
Don't leave me to bleed
And worst of all—he hadn’t even been able to say goodbye. When he had arrived, breathless and desperate, the police had held him back, hands gripping his arms, arms placed infront of him firmly to avoid him from moving further as he struggled, as he fought to reach Vein. He had been at a loss for words, unable to coherently beg them to let him go, but all he had gotten in return were cold words and blank stares. He hadn’t even been able to see him one last time as they zipped the body bag, he hadn’t been able to hold his hand, to whisper a goodbye, to tell him that he—
For someone who chose to leave me be
Because the pain of not knowing—of not having closure—was worse than anything else.