[Fic] by every trick of light (Módào Zǔshī)
- Fandom: 魔道祖师 - 墨香铜臭 | Módào Zǔshī - Mòxiāng Tóngxiù
- Pairing: Song Lan | Song Zichen/Xiao Xingchen/Xue Yang | Xue Chengmei
- Tags: Canonical Character Death
- Word-Count: 678
- Status: Complete
- First Published: 2024-01-11
- Disclaimer: I do not own 魔道祖师 by 墨香铜臭 | Módào Zǔshī by Mòxiāng Tóngxiù and make no profit from this—it is solely a hobby for fun, with no financial compensation.
Summary:
Xue Yang can fix this.
Notes:
- For daydrink.
Title from Jealous Gods by Poets of the Fall.
Work Text:
Xiao Xingchen's body is beautiful.
Xue Yang has always thought so, ever since their very first meeting. Spitefully, maybe; finding his enemies beautiful was something that always knocked them just a bit off-course, and Xue Yang took devious delight in steering them right off the road. So, perhaps, at first, when he didn't know Xiao Xingchen, that appreciation of his was nothing more than a calculated attack. But. Well, but it's been years, and Xue Yang has grown to know Xiao Xingchen better than he knows himself, and he finds the man beautiful even when he's dead.
He won't stay that way, of course.
Xue Yang hums, carefully smoothing out the makeup around Xiao Xingchen's eyes, and sits back on his heels, looking up at Song Lan. Quirking an eyebrow, he says, perhaps just a little antagonistically, "Good as new, huh?"
Song Lan doesn't respond. He's been stoically watching Xue Yang work for three days, watching Xue Yang putting Xiao Xingchen's body back together, fixing all the wounds, washing off the blood and gore. Song Lan, Xue Yang has found, has a remarkable skill for loud silence, his still presence nevertheless consistently taking up space. Now, when he does not react to Xue Yang's provocation, Xue Yang hops to his feet and claps his hands, displacing dust and makeup and dirt. He looks at Xiao Xingchen for a moment; can't help drinking in that imperfection even when it makes his chest ache and his lungs fill with water.
The thing is. Well, the thing is.
Xiao Xingchen's death is his fault, isn't it? It's Xue Yang's fault; his blame, his guilt, his actions that led to this outcome. If he hadn't... but it's all his fault, now. There's nobody else to point to, as much as Xue Yang wants to. Not even Song Lan, truly. It's just Xue Yang.
(Only Xue Yang.)
But it's fine.
Because Xue Yang can fix this.
Laughing, he bites down on the last candy Xiao Xingchen ever gave him. It's sweet, and the taste lingers on his tongue even long after he's swallowed it. "We'll need to kill some people," Xue Yang absently says to Song Lan that evening, cooking his food and glancing Xiao Xingchen's way every few seconds. "You know that, right?" and he looks to Song Lan, watching that impassive face that never ever looks away from him. Xue Yang doesn't understand it; Song Lan is obsessed with Xiao Xingchen, right, so why isn't he watching him? Why always... but then, it must be so that Xue Yang can't sneak up on him, he thinks. So that Xue Yang can't get his needles back into Song Lan's head.
He doesn't need to, though. Song Lan wants Xiao Xingchen back just as much as he does, so he doesn't need to.
Taking his silence as compliance, Xue Yang looks back at Xiao Xingchen. The body won't rot, won't decay, won't be disfigured by death. He looks like he's sleeping, like he'll open his eyes any second and smile, and Xue Yang gulps, breathes through his nose until the digging sensation in his eyes stop, and then he stands. Walks over to Song Lan, the man tracking his motion without moving. Scoffing, Xue Yang pokes Song Lan's chest. "Your precious morals are no match for Xiao Xingchen, huh."
Song Lan does not react, and Xue Yang scoffs again, bites down on words that won't lead anywhere at all. He goes, instead, back to Xiao Xingchen, lays down beside the corpse and stares up at the night sky. He hears Song Lan move; getting closer, sitting down on the ground and still watching him.
It's infuriating.
Xue Yang turns toward Xiao Xingchen. He really is so pretty, even dead, and he reaches out, can't help it. Rosy cheeks, his daozhang is without flaw, and he almost, almost, almost looks like he's sleeping. Like he'll wake up any second.
Closing his eyes, Xue Yang rests his head on Xiao Xingchen's shoulder and curls tight around the man. It's fine, he thinks.
He'll fix this.