you hurt me (and i hate you) - wolfstar - word count: 4190
rated e | hate sex | semi-public sex | post-breakup
"What's this then, coming crawling back? Think I'm so desperate for your attention that I'll drop to my knees like I did last time we were here? Fuck you."
"Fuck me?" Sirius' voice was raised now, and he stepped further into the alley. "Fuck you! I thought you might have calmed down by now but you really are a massive fucking prick aren't you?"
"A massive prick that you're still desperate for, aren't you? What, couldn't find one better so you thought you'd have a go at mine again?" Sirius was still approaching him, steps steady and sure, and Remus was shaking with anger. "Well, tough. Now go."
Tommy's thumb has been hovering over Buck's name in his phone for a few days, yearning to ask for forgiveness, for understanding, for… anything, really. He hasn’t hit the button, not for a text, not for a call. It’s been a strange way to end a relationship, but he’s had worse, and he guesses Ev… Buck’s had them, too. He’s probably hurt now, confused, but he’ll get over it.
Or maybe he won’t, because it’s been nearly two weeks and he chooses the worst time to call Tommy. He considers not even picking up, just let this one go to voicemail. For some reason, he doesn’t.
„Buck,“ he says, trying to sound casual and busy at the same time, even if he’s only one of these things. „Not a good time, I’m on shift and there’s…“
There’s a sigh on the other end, a peculiar sound; like he’s waited, maybe for days, to muster the strength to finally call. It’s just… Tommy can’t deal with that right now, and it’s not because he doesn’t want to. So many mixed feelings stir up the tight knot in his stomach that’s sitting there since 11 days. 11 days and 14 hours, to be precise.
„There’s been an accident, I believe,“ he continues, quickening his pace, „something for AirOps. I need to go.“
Is he babbling? It sure sounds like it. He doesn’t owe the man any explanation. Does he?
„It’s me.“
His voice is but a breath, and there’s something in it that makes Tommy turn a corner. It’s the worst time, but he presses himself against a wall as if he’d something to hide. Well, not rushing to an emergency, that’s what he’s hiding right now, isn’t it?
„What?“ he asks, a little sharper than intended.
„It’s me. I’m the accident.“
Is… is he laughing? Is he drunk? Tommy’s fingers are itching to press the button, to stop this ridiculous call. He should’ve never picked up in the first place. Worst part is that he now feels sorry for himself, he’s disappointed without really knowing why.
„Buck,“ he says in the coldest tone possible, „don’t call me at work. I’m gonna go now.“
„Wait. I’m sorry.“
Another sigh, a peculiar wet sound. Like he’s been crying. Or…
„I’m t-the accident, Tommy. I’m 32-year old male stuck in a car dangling on unfinished bridge. That’s w-why they called AirOps, I guess.“
He’s starting to stutter. Right now, Tommy hates that he knows this, but it means he’s scared. Of all the things in the world Tommy doesn’t want his ex-boyfriend to be, it’s scared. Then the words hit home, and the knot in his stomach turns to ice. Tommy doesn’t even notice that he starts moving again. He almost runs into Moore, he’s always the last to enter the engine. The man’s still holding a sandwich, some sort of sauce dripping from his chin as he frantically stuffs the rests of it in his mouth.
„Where’s the accident?“ Tommy urges.
„Uh, on the 110, near the exit of Adams Boulevard. Guy must have missed some warning signs,“ Moore replies.
Tommy runs past him, up the stairs to the helipad, thinking he has missed a couple of those, right. Is that thought fair? It doesn’t matter now. He tells Buck to stay on the phone; in the helicopter, he mounts the device on a holder beneath the window pane with slightly trembling fingers. This way, he can connect it to the helicopter’s communication system and still hear Buck with his headphones on.
„Talk to me,“ he says, hopefully sounding like someone who has it all under control, while he starts the machine. „How did this happen?“
„H-how?“
There’s this small chuckle in his voice again. It’s inappropriate, totally out of place. He’s in shock, and so afraid, yet he’s still trying to be brave about it. Tommy’s heart aches at the thought.
„Don’t you mean why? Why d-did it happen. Why did you leave just like that?“
Tommys right hand grips the cyclic a little too hard. If he doesn’t focus, he’ll make a mistake; he can’t do that because a life depends on him. Depends on him being faster than the ground crew, because he knows that at this hour, with the usual traffic, the necessary tools and gear will never reach the bridge in time. And maybe it doesn’t matter how it happened, actually. How, on a perfectly normal day, Evan Buckley has somehow missed some road signs, took a wrong turn, or maybe, just maybe, deliberately steered his car onto an unfinished bridge. Either way, it’s a painful thought, because Tommy is to blame for it, isn’t he. 11 days, 14 hours, 35 minutes; the longest they’ve neither texted nor called each other since that fateful hospital wedding. The night in which Buck decided he wanted to be with him, full stop. Tommy is to blame he let the man inside his heart, and he’s to blame for apparently breaking it.
The city lights far, far beneath him blur, and he blinks. It's his own fault that he allowed such a vulnerable, sensitive, wonderful guy to become infatuated with him. His fault he felt the same. Feels, actually. Because there’s not just fear for Buck’s life, a deep dread turning the knuckles of his fingers around the cyclic white. There’s so much more. He needs to focus, he needs him to stay awake until help arrives. Until he arrives.
„That’s not the question right now,“ he says, his eyes searching the streets for striking landmarks. „I need to know where you’re hurt. Tell me what’s wrong, let’s focus on that.“
„Why?“ The question comes in a matter-of-fact tone. „You’re not a paramedic. You’re called because the situation is dire, Tommy, beyond my injuries. A-and I… I’m not even sure where exactly I’m hurt. But I know i-it’s bad.“
He pauses to suck in a breath; a painful, shaky sound. Tommy listens to the radio with half an ear, but not a single fire station is within a 10 minute reach, and his own department – just like the 118, he suspects –may violate a couple of road rules yet they will still not reach the bridge in time.
„My c-car,“ Buck continues slowly, „the rear end… well, it might just topple any minute now. I hardly dare to breathe, Tommy, a-and it hurts anyway. Maybe I’ll just stop breathing until somebody arrives.“
This time, his laughter is chopped and not at all cheerful.
„You won’t stop breathing.“
It’s not a statement, it’s an order. Tommy is almost surprised of himself – that’s his military voice, there hasn't been the need or the want to use that voice, to recall that part of him for a long time.
„I don’t know what else to do,“ says Buck, suddenly sounding so young. „I… I just wanted to hear your voice. In case… you know. But n-now that I hear it, I’m just s-sad. Because you d-didn’t… you didn’t explain.“
„That’s not true,“ Tommy softly replies.
He still can’t see the half-finished bridge, though GPS and the map in his mind tell him he’s getting closer; way closer than any EMT on the ground, he can tell that from the radio. Not much time has passed. Blinking at the slowly darkening horizon, Tommy inwardly pleads the universe for more time. His mind is not ready to fathom the idea of this being their last call. He’s missed this voice so much, it’s haunted his dreams. 11 days, 14 hours, 38 minutes, 12 seconds.
„Y-you told me… you said you’re afraid I’d break your heart,“ Buck says. „I’ve been dumped before, but never for that r-reason.“
There’s a moment of silence, and Tommy glances at his phone. He can hear him breathe; strained, choppy sniffs that don’t bode well.
„Pretty sure that’s not the only thing I said.“
Maybe that was too harsh. It’s just… has that man ever considered that Tommy’s hurting, too? He clings to that thought, trying to stir up some anger inside. If there must be any feelings when he meets him, let it be resentment.
„No, it’s not, you said something else that… t-that hurt me, Tommy.“
Oh, great. As if he doesn’t know this break-up out of the blue was hurtful. It was just easy to pretend they would get over it soon. Six months, that’s not such a long time, right?
„I’m sorry,“ he softly replies, and he is. Maybe it was inevitable to hurt him, but that doesn’t mean he’s not regretting it. God, he’s regretting so much.
„You said you’re not my last. Ah man, that hurts.“
Another sharply sucked-in breath makes this remark pretty multi-layered.
„I’m sorry,“ Tommy repeats, staring down at the city. Only 1 or 2 more minutes, he implores the sky. He can almost see the bridge.
„You better be, b-because you can’t know that, Tommy. You can’t just assume I’m gonna grow tired of you because the world is full of other people I haven’t… I haven’t tried. That’s insulting, you know? I was no virgin before you, and it’s not sex that has me… has me orbiting you like a s-satellite.“
„Maybe I’ve drawn the wrong conclusions,“ Tommy says, just to keep him talking. There’s the part of the highway they never finished, the bridge that cost the city a fortune but was never completed because of financial cuts. Ironic, isn’t it? They’d rather stop, even if reaching the other side seems so close. Cut the cord, dismiss everything you’ve already reached. There’s a pattern Tommy knows all too well.
„And now I’ve realized that’s the problem. I’ve been orbiting you. As if you’d been my awakening experience, larger than life.“
„I’m only human.“
„Right. I know that now. We should’ve spend more time talking. I should’ve listened to what you’ve experienced. You’ve been hurt, Tommy, I’ve figured that, and I… I never asked you about it. You wanna know what I think?“
There’s a car on the unfinished end of the bridge, just as expected; but knowing what will come never helps ease the pain. It’s dangling over the concrete, looks like one false move might topple it. It’s a miracle that hasn’t already happened. Tommy carefully lowers the helicopter. There’s sirens in the distance, and he realizes he needs help. He can’t do this alone, what was he even thinking? AirOps is the eye in the sky, a means for faster transportation, yes; but he can’t lift a car with his helicopter. You’re an idiot, he scolds himself. It’s just about being fast. Being first. How ironic.
„I’m here,“ he says. „I’ll try to land on that bridge, but I’ll need to do that far enough so the wind of my rotors doesn’t…“
„I think,“ Buck continues as if he’s not heard him, „you left me because you love me. That’s stupid, T-Tommy.“
He coughs, and now he sounds as if he’s almost choking. There’s a sharp and cold pain gripping Tommy’s guts, because he might still be too late.
„Keep talking to me,“ he urges, his eyes searching the ground for a proper landing spot.
„But is it true?“
He sounds tired now, tired and worn out, yet that’s not why Tommy decides it’s time for the truth.
„It is,“ he quietly replies, focusing on the controls. „It’s true. Sometimes, you need to shut your heart because loving hurts more than leaving.“
„That much is true,“ Buck says. His words are merely a whiff now. „Because I love you, and it hurts.“
The helicopter’s skids touch the ground, and Tommy is already tearing at the door. The air is now filled with the wailing of sirens, the red light already flashing in his eyes. He runs, but it seems to take like forever. Forever can be 30 seconds. Half a year. 11 days, 14 hours, 40 minutes, 10 seconds, 50 milliseconds.
If necessary, he will use all his weight to prevent the car from tipping over, he thinks. Still, he’s not prepared for what he sees when he finally reaches the driver’s door. The sight burns itself deep inside his memory: there’s blood everywhere, shards of glass, something sharp protruding, but most of all,
Someone has been sneaking into Tommy's house and workplace just to leave him with food and groceries.
________________
Heck, whomever invaded his house even restocked his fridge and pantry with much needed groceries and even got him a case of that rare pale beer he liked!
Taking a pic of the well-stocked fridge, he texted Lucy and Eddie, two people of the four people who had keys to his place that could be the culprit (Melton was working the same 48 hour shift with him and most likely passed out at his place and Sal was in Philadelphia, vacationing with his in-laws).
Tommy - Right, which one of you gremlins did this?
Biting into the decadent fudge brownie (He may or may not have shivers dancing down his spine while biting into the frankly sinful dessert), he turned to his phone when his phone vibrated, signalling the replies coming through.
Lucy - Brave of you to assume I know how to bake. 😤 😤
Lucy - Damn, are those red velvet cupcakes?
Lucy - Share them with me 🤤🤤🤤
Eddie - Dude, I’m not even in LA right now?!
Eddie - Didn’t I tell you I’m moving back to El Paso?
Tommy frowned. Eddie’s moved back to Texas? But what about Ev- Buck?
Tommy - You moved? Why didn’t you tell me? I would have sent you off man!
msr | canon-divergent au s5ish | post-breakup | 694 words | ao3 | tagging @today-in-fic
Scully is apprehensive at the idea of going over to Mulder’s apartment to go over a case file. They used to do this all the time, but that was before. Before they kissed, before they fucked, before they well–
Now, they keep their distance after five pm on weekdays and only discuss cases in the safe, neutral space of their office. They’ve even taken to eating dinner in their separate motel rooms while traveling.
But today, Skinner called them to his office at 4:15 and gave them an assignment for which they need to leave tomorrow. They could have stayed late at the office, but Scully’s stomach started growling at a quarter after five. She gave Mulder an apologetic smile, meeting his eyes for the first time in hours, and he shrugged.
“Meet me at mine? I’ll pick up Chinese.” He said it nonchalantly, but Scully knew he was covering up his discomfort.
She agreed quietly, and now she is standing outside his door, arm poised to knock. He answers the door still in his suit. It’s such a stark difference to the last time she saw him in his apartment, wearing basketball shorts and holding back tears, that she has to blink away the memory before she can step inside. She’s grateful he hasn’t changed clothes. This is a professional dinner. They’re going to discuss a string of murders in Vermont and that is all.
He gestures toward the kitchen with his head. “Food’s in there.”
Scully takes off her coat and tosses it on the couch. Any thoughts that this is going to be a semi-normal evening went out the window the second he set up their food in the kitchen. Never in all these years have they eaten in his kitchen. Is he trying to make a point? She grits her teeth. He better have bought her lo mein with tofu.
She makes her way to the table and he follows. He has the files laid out next to their cartons of rice and trays of noodles and she briefly considers thanking him for remembering her order, but thinks better of it.
The case is gruesome and thankfully distracts from the awkwardness of eating dinner together for the first time since they last slept together, but of course they can’t escape having at least one uncomfortable moment thanks in part to Scully starting a completely inappropriate conversation.
She comes back from the bathroom and raises her eyebrows at Mulder as she leans against the table. “Floral sheets?”
“What?”
“On your bed? Why do you have floral sheets?” She realizes the second she asks that she doesn’t want to know the answer. What if another woman picked them out? Is he seeing someone?
Mulder glances at the floor. “I had to get new bedding because I couldn’t sleep in there without thinking of you.”
Anger floods Scully’s veins. How dare he try to get to her with his stupid little pout? He was the one who ended it, after all. What right does he have to say things like that? But she keeps her cool because she can’t let him know how his comment affected her.
“So you went with tulips?”
He looks her in the eyes somewhat unnervingly. “If you must know, they’re from my mother. She had an extra set and she wouldn’t let me leave without them when I visited last weekend. When she heard about us, she wanted to redecorate the whole place actually, but I managed to keep it to just the sheets.”
Scully surprisingly finds herself huffing a laugh. “I think you could do with some purple curtains in the living room, Mulder.”
He drops his head to the table dramatically and bangs it against a photo of the Vermont wilderness. “Not you, too.”
The rest of the evening passes much more comfortably. Almost the way it was before. When she leaves, he hands her her coat, and for a fleeting moment, it seems like he’s going to lean in and kiss her, but doesn’t. Of course. She stands in his hallway and imagines him laying down on his floral sheets, not thinking about her.
@written-in-ash Lyssa this didn't turn out that angsty but here you go anyway lol. CW: character death, post break-up, getting back together, hopeful ending
I didn't think you'd be here, and I wasn't going to say anything but—
"What are you doing here, Potter?"
Off to a great start, Draco, really stellar.
"Blaise was my friend, too." You're being nicer than I deserve, right now, and I wish you'd just scowl at me and walk away but instead you continue. "Even if it was only for a while. But I also want to make sure you're okay."
I sneer before I can help it. "I'm fine. Really, just dandy. My casual fuck decided I wasn't worth his time, and then my best friend died at the ripe old age of 27."
Finally, incredulity forms on your face, wrinkling your brow. "Not worth my—Draco, are you mad? I'm not the one who stopped sending Owls."
"I don't Owl men who fuck me one day and go back to their ex-girlfriend the next."
You sputter. "Excuse me, what are you talking about?"
"I saw the Prophet article, the picture of you and the Future Mrs. Potter. Honestly, you two look so in love it's disgusting."
"She's not my—Merlin, Draco, we're just friends! The Prophet sells nothing but lies! C'mon, you know that," you frown. "That's not why you left. You left because you got scared."
"Scared? Of you?" I huff. "You wish."
"Look. We shouldn't talk about this right now." You look around, suddenly more alert to our surroundings. "Meet for coffee tomorrow? Please? Draco it's clear there's a lot we need to clear up."
"Fine," I sigh, "But you're buying."
Miraculously, you chuckle. "Fine. See you tomorrow." You walk away after flashing me a soft smile, and for the first time in a few weeks, something that feels dangerously like hope curls up warm in my chest.
This is yet again inspired by this very same prompt from yesterday, by @mingcheng-prompts because it turns out it was written with Mingcheng as exes in mind. And oh boy, did that spark some ideas. Also, at this point it feels like I’m actively trying to avoid a bingo and what the fuck is up with that second to last line?
Jiang Cheng has only been back in his home town for two days now and he absolutely cannot understand how Nie Huaisang is already sitting on his couch.
Sure, they have kept in contact when Jiang Cheng was studying abroad, but not as much as before, which was understandable given what happened between Nie Mingjue and Jiang Cheng right before he left but it still doesn’t explain what Nie Huaisang is doing in his apartment.
Jiang Cheng can probably count himself lucky that Nie Huaisang is still willing to talk to him in person at all.
“Tell me again how you found out where I live?” Jiang Cheng asks as he pinches the bridge of his nose.
“Wei Wuxian,” Nie Huaisang cheerfully says and jumps up to help himself to whatever he finds to his liking in Jiang Cheng’s fridge.
Honestly, he’s too tired to ask at this point.
“So I heard you are single,” Nie Huaisang says when he turns back around to him and Jiang Cheng immediately stiffens.
“That’s none of your business,” he bites out, but of course Nie Huaisang is not at all affected by his tone.
“Aw, but Wanyin, we’re friends, right? Friends know these things about friends.”
Jiang Cheng clenches his teeth. There is a reason he made it a point to never, ever talk to Nie Huaisang about any kind of romantic interest he has—or doesn’t have—because Nie Mingjue is his brother.
Nie Huaisang should really know better.
“There’s nothing to tell,” Jiang Cheng says and winces just a moment later.
It’s the truth, but it’s also much, much more than he wanted to tell Nie Huaisang, who of course immediately lights up.
“Nothing? There’s no one?” he wants to know and Jiang Cheng fights the bitter feeling that rises up in him.
There is absolutely no one because even during five years abroad he could barely think about anyone else but Nie Mingjue and it’s just pathetic.
They broke up. Jiang Cheng really should move on, but his thoughts still linger on the other man. He wouldn’t say he’s still in love—how could he even be if he hasn’t seen Nie Mingjue in five years—but he also doesn’t feel ready for anything else.
“Can we drop this now?” Jiang Cheng asks instead of answering Nie Huaisang who sends him a knowing look.
It seems like Nie Huaisang can still read him way too well for Jiang Cheng’s comfort.
“I don’t think so. Listen, I have an idea,” Nie Huaisang says and Jiang Cheng immediately shakes his head.
“No. Whatever it is, no. Can you please just let me settle here and let me make my own friends and connections?”
Nie Huaisang squints at him.
“No. I don’t think you’re very good at that and you’re gonna need help if you want different friends than your brother. I’m your best bet,” he tells him and Jiang Cheng lets himself drop down on the couch with a sigh.
“Thanks for your trust. You know, I could have grown when I was away. Maybe I’m a completely different person now. Outgoing and fun to be around,” Jiang Cheng snarks even though they both know it’s impossible.
No person could ever change that much.
“You have always been fun to be around,” Nie Huaisang says with a frown as he drops down next to Jiang Cheng. “And your statement alone makes me think that you haven’t changed that much at all.”
“Great,” Jiang Cheng grumbles and Nie Huaisang pokes him into the side.
“It’s not a bad thing. I happen to like who you are, as do many other people. And now shush with these self-deprecating thoughts, let’s go back to my idea.”
“I’d really rather not,” Jiang Cheng sighs, but he knows he already lost that battle.
“Tough luck,” Nie Huaisang cheerfully says and then claps his hands together, the excitement clear in his face. “A blind date.”
“Absolutely not,” Jiang Cheng immediately shoots back but it doesn’t seem like Nie Huaisang is listening to him at all.
“I have the perfect candidate,” he goes on as if Jiang Cheng didn’t say anything and he bites back the words that there is no one perfect out there.
Especially not for Jiang Cheng and absolutely not after he fucked it up with the only good thing in his life.
“No,” Jiang Cheng says again, but just like the first time Nie Huaisang talks right over him.
“Just an easy dinner—your favourite place hasn’t changed, right?—and then you can go your merry way.”
“Huaisang, I’m not meeting anyone for a date. I’m not ready for that kind of commitment, I only just moved back!”
"I'm not saying you have to marry them! It's just one date,” Nie Huaisang huffs out, crossing his arms in front of his chest in the most childish gesture Jiang Cheng has seen him make.
Yeah, one date where Jiang Cheng has to sit and make awkward conversation before ultimately being rejected. Nie Huaisang isn't the first person to try and set him up to no avail, but Jiang Cheng had thought at least he, of all people, knew better.
So of course he says no.
“Consider it my welcome back gift,” Nie Huaisang tries next and Jiang Cheng vehemently shakes his head.
He’s not going to meet with someone, period. He wants to find his footing in this city first, get back with his friends and family before he even so much as entertains any kind of thought about dating and going on a blind date in the very first week he came back is not what he wants.
“Please?” Nie Huaisang asks and whips out the puppy eyes.
Jiang Cheng has always been weak to them, but he also grew as a person over five years and he is now strong enough to endure them.
“Fine,” he hears himself say and promptly buries his face in a pillow.
~*~*~
Jiang Cheng really wishes he could be anywhere else but here.
Nie Huaisang not only picked his clothes and the date, but also time and place. And letting him do that turned out to be the biggest mistake Jiang Cheng has ever made, because he’s sitting in the restaurant he used to frequent with Nie Mingjue and Jiang Cheng desperately doesn’t want to be here.
He hadn’t realized it before, because he lived in a city that Nie Mingjue had never stepped a foot in before, but he still remembers so much of his time with Nie Mingjue. Especially now that the reminders are everywhere.
Jiang Cheng still remembers the first time they came here, the food they usually ate, how fun the drive here could be if they took the sub. Just. Little things. All of which tear at Jiang Cheng’s heart and he already knows that no matter who will come for this blind date, he will snap at them unnecessarily just because of that.
He really wishes he could forget all of his time with Nie Mingjue.
Jiang Cheng is reluctantly reading the menu for tenth time—noticing with despair that their meals are still on there—when a light knocking on the table alerts him to look up—and keep looking up until he is met with the charmingly bashful smile of Nie Mingjue.
No one can blame Jiang Cheng if the first words to leave his mouth that evening are, "I'm gonna kill Nie Huaisang."
He definitely crossed a line there and Jiang Cheng vows to yell at him about it later.
“If it helps, I didn’t know about this, either,” Nie Mingjue says with a wince but he sits down instead of simply walking away.
Jiang Cheng can do nothing but stare at him, because fuck.
He forgot how gorgeous Nie Mingjue is.
“It’s nice to see you,” Nie Mingjue says, a small smile playing around his mouth and Jiang Cheng wonders how he can even say that.
Jiang Cheng had thought that being away from him—putting distance and time between them—would help, would mean he could get over Nie Mingjue faster and while Jiang Cheng always knew that a small part of him still lingered on Nie Mingjue he hadn’t realized that he is still completely in love with him.
And he really doesn’t need the reminder either. Especially not with Nie Mingjue sitting so close.
“I think I’ll be leaving now,” Jiang Cheng says, not meeting Nie Mingjue’s eyes but just at that moment a waiter steps to their table, plates at the ready.
“Your orders,” he tells them as he puts them down and Jiang Cheng frowns.
“We didn’t order anything yet,” he says but the waiter shrugs.
“The order came with the reservation. It’s already paid, too.”
He hurries off without further explanation, but of course Nie Huaisang would have thought about this.
“Come on, Wanyin, it’s just dinner.”
Nie Mingjue sounds relaxed and Jiang Cheng finds it hard to breathe. Nie Mingjue doesn’t seem to be affected by their meeting at all and it just serves as a reminder that Jiang Cheng fucked up monumentally; not only by breaking up with Nie Mingjue in the first place, but by still being in love with him as well. Nie Mingjue seems to have moved on without problems.
“It’s already paid, and I know it’s your favourite. Let’s just eat,” Nie Mingjue says again when Jiang Cheng continues to hover unsurely and finally Jiang Cheng sits down.
“Fine,” he bites out and then—on instinct—he reaches over the table to take the mushrooms off Nie Mingjue’s dish.
He never liked them and they always swapped them around and Jiang Cheng flushes when he realizes what he just did.
Jiang Cheng is no longer allowed to take these liberties with Nie Mingjue.
“Sorry,” he mumbles, but it doesn’t quite feel right to put them back on Nie Mingjue’s plate either.
“That’s fine,” Nie Mingjue says after a moment. “As long as you trade me for that egg,” he then tacks on and Jiang Cheng gladly transfers that over.
It’s what they always did. The thought hurts—more than Jiang Cheng ever expected it too—and he realizes that they are crossing over into territory they have no business walking into.
Jiang Cheng finds it increasingly hard to remind himself over the course of dinner that this means nothing because it’s easy, so easy to fall back into a comfortable talk and banter with Nie Mingjue and it almost feels like it’s cutting Jiang Cheng open.
There’s no way around it, he still loves Nie Mingjue.
Despite everything, Jiang Cheng has to admit that they are having a nice evening. They avoid any and all talk about their relationship or break-up and instead focus on other topics, but the conversation is flowing with little to no pauses and Jiang Cheng has to admit that he has missed this.
He missed being comfortable with another person. The fact that that person apparently still is Nie Mingjue hurts him deeply though and by the time dessert comes around, he’s a little more subdued.
Nie Mingjue seems to notice, but he doesn’t say anything and Jiang Cheng is thankful for it. It’s not like he could explain what’s going on in his mind right now anyway.
“Wanyin,” Nie Mingjue says when they have finished their dessert and Jiang Cheng immediately tenses. “This was nice,” he carefully goes on, waiting for Jiang Cheng’s nod. “I—it would be nice if we could do this again. As friends.”
Jiang Cheng feels like someone pulled the chair out from under him and for a moment everything is spinning around. His heart is beating erratically in his chest and it makes breathing very hard but Jiang Cheng forces himself to maintain a steady rhythm anyway.
“I don’t think so,” Jiang Cheng manages to say, staggering to his feet. “I don’t want that.”
“Why?” Nie Mingjue asks and suddenly his face is hart, bordering on angry and it seems like they are having this conversation now, in a restaurant full of strangers. “Why not? Why can’t we be friends? Are you still that angry with me? Might I remind you that we both said things there at the end, but ultimately it was you who broke up with me.”
Jiang Cheng jerks with his words, but it’s not like he doesn’t know it.
“Five years, Mingjue,” Jiang Cheng chokes out. “I was gone for five years. It would never have worked.”
“And I said I wouldn’t be against a long-distance relationship,” Nie Mingjue gives back but Jiang Cheng shakes his head.
“Yeah, at first maybe. But then what, huh? Eventually you would have grown tired of that, and started to resent me. You would have wasted months, if not years on me and for what?” Jiang Cheng asks him and he feels like he did five years ago.
His whole life is coming down around him, again, and he can’t take it.
“Let’s just—not,” he gets out, and finally turns around from Nie Mingjue.
He has to get away. He didn’t expect it would still hurt this much, but if he’s being honest with himself, breaking up with Nie Mingjue was the biggest mistake he ever made.
And he doesn’t need to be reminded of that again and again.
“Wanyin,” Nie Mingjue calls after him, but Jiang Cheng is already out of the restaurant.
He’ll have to block Nie Huaisang’s number, he realizes, because he will want to yell at him, no doubt and Jiang Cheng is in no place to take that right now.
“Wanyin, wait,” Nie Mingjue suddenly says from behind him, stopping him with a hand to his arm and Jiang Cheng freezes when he realizes that Nie Mingjue came after him.
“What for?” Jiang Cheng whispers but he can’t bear to turn around, can’t bear to look at Nie Mingjue any longer, and he realizes that he’s shaking.
“Let’s just not talk about—dinner today was nice, right? Why can’t we try for that?” he asks and he sounds so hopeful that Jiang Cheng feels sick to his stomach.
It seems so easy for Nie Mingjue to talk to him, to ask to be his friend, when all it does to Jiang Cheng is tear him apart. Logically, Jiang Cheng knows it’s unfair that he’s being hurt by this, that he’s so mad at Nie Mingjue for being over him when that is really all Jiang Cheng wanted when he broke up with Nie Mingjue but it still hurts.
“Wanyin, why?” Nie Mingjue asks again, his voice now harder and Jiang Cheng has had enough.
He whirls around, dislodging Nie Mingjue’s hand in the process, and yells “Because I still love you!”
The words ring out between them, and Jiang Cheng is distantly aware that people are looking at them, but he barely notices it.
What he does notice is how Nie Mingjue takes a half step back, how his eyes widen and Jiang Cheng deflates.
He is so, so stupid. He should have never said it.
“Fuck,” Nie Mingjue hotly says and then suddenly his lips are on Jiang Cheng’s.
Jiang Cheng is frozen for the longest moment, and by the time he regains his senses Nie Mingjue is already pulling away again and Jiang Cheng can’t have that.
“Get back here,” he growls out and fists his hands into Nie Mingjue’s shirt, pulling him close, pulling him back into a kiss and it feels like coming home.
“Tell me you’re staying,” Nie Mingjue whispers against his lips when they do part for the second time. “Tell me we didn’t waste five years for nothing.”
“I’m staying, I’m here,” Jiang Cheng promises him, moving his hand to encircle Nie Mingjue’s wrist to keep his hand on his face. “I promise.”
“Alright,” Nie Mingjue breathes out and then kisses Jiang Cheng again, softer, this time. “We’ll figure it out.”
Jiang Cheng feels hot tears in his eyes, because this is more than he could have ever hoped for, ever dared to dream for, but he nods.
“Please,” he begs and Nie Mingjue takes the opportunity to kiss him again.
There is still a lot they have to talk about—probably also some things they have to fight about—but Jiang Cheng thinks that they will probably get through that.
Her tea is cold at this point, forgotten in her hands as she stares down at her phone, trying to swallow her disappointment. This is stupid, she knows; sitting here, wallowing in this weird mixture of hope and worry.
Ten more minutes, she tells herself. Ten more minutes, and she’s gone.
