035. enough

Yuhui waved goodbye to his brother before passing through the gates enclosing the Ren manor, glancing back briefly to view his own house from below, that palace perched perfectly upon the skyline. He wasn’t envious of the task his older sibling was going to see through but, at the same time, he wasn’t quite looking forward to his own. Ren Qihua possessed a mighty temper and Yuhui prayed his higher status made up for any diplomatic shortfalls—he was much less skilled at controlling his frustration than his brother. In their brief time together, from the end of the Zhao district to the Ren’s compound, Yuhui stopped to pick up a few things. On the end of a sigh, he pulled a thin canvas bag up his shoulder and moved forward.

The grounds were quiet aside from the shuffling of servants going about their morning tasks, all paused and bent over in polite deference so suddenly as the prince strode past them. When Yuhui reached the end of the walkway to lead him into the house proper, he was greeted by the severe eyes of the Ren patriarch, stiff-spined and straight-backed as he cast a long shadow in his mansion’s doorway.

“My Prince has come calling without any announcement,” the older man spoke, voice powerful beneath the intricate fabrication of tiled roof awnings that curled at the corners and were expertly adorned with decoration. “I am afraid I have had no time to prepare him a proper welcome.”

“A welcome is not necessary.” Yuhui stopped in the sunshine. “I do not wish to inconvenience you, Ren Qihua, or take up your time. I have come for the company of Ren Fei. I require his presence today.”

“Ren Fei is currently occupied with his studies. I hope my Prince will understand and come visit him again later.”

“The matter I have come for is urgent,” Yuhui insisted. “I will not accept refusal.”

“… Then I trust my Prince knows where our library is to interrupt his work.” Qihua’s voice was growing thin from the Tian boys wearing him down by sticking their noses into business not meant for them. He stepped aside, motioning for the royal to enter.

“Thank you,” was all the gratitude Yuhui could muster. 

The young prince moved inside, following halls he was well acquainted with to the large room in which Fei’s father placed him. On the way, he lingered briefly at a vase the Ren and Tian children used as a key drop, fetching the secret key they had forged so many years ago as a subtle act of defiance, a pass to open doors rendered forbidden. He inserted it into the lock and heard the latch click in the silence of the empty hall. Yuhui tucked the piece of metal into his coat and pushed one door open.

“Fei?” His voice was soft like a whisper, sweet like the first perfumed breaths of spring.

However, what Yuhui found was far from sweet.

Fei knelt at a low table wearing yesterday’s clothes, chin raised just a few degrees shy of proud. The cant of his head was an exhausted, faker’s stab at real strength, masking a world of pain and broken tracers. The boy was born with a brush in his hand and their tutors had always praised his deft calligraphy that flowed smooth as water but today his words were shaky, slow. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” the Ren boy croaked, drymouthed and bitter. His eyes were rimmed red from yesterday’s fight with the young prince, last night’s battle with his angry father, this morning’s fresh punishment beaten across his spine as though Ren Li’s fall from grace was Fei’s fault; as though any suffering lashed into Fei’s hide would be fully felt by that other son safely held half a city away. “You’re still upset with me, aren’t you?” Fei turned his head so Yuhui wouldn’t be able to view him in such a sorry state, shame staining his features red under the bruises on his temple, on his cheek. “Go away. Leave.”

“I brought you some food.” Maybe Yuhui didn’t hear the dismissal or maybe he just didn’t care. The prince pulled the door behind him and approached the table, kneeling on the opposite side as he would if they were at his house, in his room rather than this chamber full of misery. “I love you and disagreements don’t really matter in the grand scheme of things, do they?”

Yuhui’s black eyes focused on the turned away face of his friend before he looked down and started to pull the contents of his bag out: a container of newly cut soursop, grilled squid and steamed buns freshly unwrapped before him, still hot from their acquisition.

Fei couldn’t look at Yuhui, afraid of what would spill forth if he budged even an inch. He tilted his head down, swallowing hard as he traced mazes in the wood grain with his avoidant eyes. 

“I can’t eat right now.” Ren Fei was a willowy thing, tall and slim, just a year or two away from being called elegant and refined instead of coltish and awkward. “I’m being punished.” 

Brown eyes flit to the edge of the table, brow twitching as he considered the ramifications of a sole question. His fingers tensed on the brush now paused midair. 

“…is Li okay? Is Li alive?”

“Yes to both. He is alive and okay.” Yuhui leaned forward, resting an elbow on the table. “Xiao and I came upon all that this morning. Nobody died but my brother did wager that he and Li would surrender their names and he would forsake his succession if we all didn’t win the millipede next week, so we’re going to go to Yunji. You’re coming home with me today, so yes, you can eat.”

That doe-eyed boy finally turned his face toward Yuhui though his eyes landed somewhere between the food he was being offered and the Prince’s searching face. His bruises tumbled from his hairline down a fragile cheek, mottled jaw and battered neck disappearing their evidence beyond the hem of a disheveled collar. 

When Fei spoke his exhausted tenor wove suspicion around in front of him like a blade testing the air. “My Prince is kind to inform me of my brother’s well-being. I am grateful beyond all words.” He looked down at the food and sighed, somehow sinking his volume even lower. “You don’t know it, Yu, but you’re a part of the test now. He’ll know. I’m not going home with you today. This is a trick and it is cruel but I’ll be okay. I know how to pass his exams.” Fei placed his brush on the table and folded his hands in his lap.

“Don’t get formal with me, I don’t care who overhears.” Yuhui sighed heavy and pushed himself up to stand. His heart sank for his beautiful friend, the sweetness of his skin so marred by the nettle bushes of a father’s supposed love. “You can eat when we get to the palace then. Get up, we’re going. Right now. You’re coming home with me right now.”

“Yu’er,” the boy still on his knees pleaded softly, voice beginning to crack at the edges. “… I need help.” Head hung, loose curls of his bangs obscuring his eyes, Fei squeezed his wishing-well eyes shut, like he could keep himself from overflowing when the groundwater kept rising. “I took a hundred strokes last night, more when he got home this morning. It hurts to stand, hurts to stay upright, hurts to remain awake, hurts too much to go to sleep, I don’t…”

“I should have come with a carriage. I’m sorry, Fei, I was more focused on getting over here than thinking ahead.” Still, the Tian boy was at the Ren boy’s side in an instant, nestling himself body to body, carefully manipulating himself into position to help support that lanky thing’s weight when he was ready to move it. “As soon as we get to the palace, I’ll call in the doctor so he can get you something for the pain. Then you can sleep until you feel better and join us all at Yunji.”

Fei relinquished himself to Yuhui’s manipulation and whatever repercussions would come when he eventually returned home; he leaned into his friend’s warmth, arm slung around his neck. “I’m sorry I teased you,” he began to weep, sleepless words coming out in clots. “I’m sorry for everything—this all happened to Li because I was disrespectful. I’m sorry, Yuhui, I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t apologize to me, I was an asshole to you. Sometimes I get caught up in myself, you know? I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, I didn’t want to push you completely away. When I tell you that I love you, I really mean that. You’re my best friend and you mean the world to me and I don’t ever want anything bad to happen to you.” Standing, Yuhui took a brief moment to make sure Fei’s clothes were straight from all that time spent on his knees, then began to guide him to the door. “Likewise, you’re not at fault for what your brother decides to do to himself. I’m sure he would tell you the exact same thing.”

That noble boy whined when he was moved, barely breathing to keep his bruised ribs from completely collapsing. He didn’t have the will or the energy to obfuscate, just the cover of trauma to cloak the source of his admission. “I love you too, Yu’er,” he confessed in the shadow of his guilt. He took a long breath, deep, doing his very best to fill his lungs from the bottom instead of letting his chest rise. He dared a grin, a weak flicker of light on his deathcast face. “I can stand for a minute on my own. Don’t leave my buns here.”

Yuhui may have been willing to abandon everything to steal Fei to safety, but Fei was less so: if Yuhui had been thoughtful enough to bring his favorite foods from the market, Fei was going to at least attempt to eat them.

“Aaah, fine, fine,” Yuhui said, sliding away from the boy. “I will protect the safety of all buns in this room.”

He bent at the table and made quick work of repacking the purchased items. Yuhui shoved each back into his bag before he was looping Fei’s arm around his shoulder again, ready to take him home. “Xiao said that he is going to have items of our own packed up so you and Li have changes of clothes, so don’t come back here tomorrow, okay? You’ll just need to ride over to Yunji.”

Fei relinquished himself to his best friend’s will, moving with him despite the ache, albeit slowly. The beaten boy prayed his father would not stand in their path or even watch them leave: he was terrified the very act of accepting Yu’s kindness doomed him to death by his Ren Qihua’s heavy hand. “Do you think Ling Di is mad? I think there are broken tracers on my back.”

“Yeah. Ling Di is probably mad but who cares? Xiao has made it known that he prefers Hua Jin to do his work. If all goes well, then he will be granted a shop close to the palace and become all the rage.” As soon as they were in the open air of the hall, Yuhui quieted his chatter. Despite how much he wanted to gloat that he was able to use his power to help his friend, to dare Ren Qihua complain about him directly to the king, the boy did not want to make things worse for the youngest of the Ren family.

They made it to the courtyard with no obstruction. The morning air was still fresh and the sun gleamed in its lazy path across the archdoor sky. The atmosphere was heavy with the weight of eyes but it was unclear if this was a passing phantom feeling, the curiosity of onlookers, or something more.

Yuhui spoke again when they were in the mixed company of Fanxing’s streets.

“Hua Jin is coming to the palace with Li. I’ll ask him to look at your tracers before we all go.”

“Nnh.” Today, Fei would defer to Yuhui’s judgement, Yuhui’s decisions. In his present state, Fei understood he was a less than adequate advocate for himself. There was comfort in Yuhui’s arms regardless of whether their love was the same. He could take it if there was any love at all to be had. 

The battered Ren boy sighed, content despite his injuries. 

The journey took longer than usual. Between Fei’s pained limping and Yuhui’s careful guidance, the ten minute walk stretched double, whispers crashing like waves against their backs. 

“Did you hear about his brother?”

“His father must be so disappointed.”

“Ren Fei must have been involved, look at the state of him! He wouldn’t have been beaten for nothing, right?”

“The Ren clan is in shambles, both heirs are disabled: what will their clan leader do?”

By the time they passed the Tian family’s gate, Ren Fei was a thousand yard stare tunneling into the earth, trying his best not to listen but taking every word as a thousand-cut sting that would leave an indelible scar.

“Don’t pay them any attention, Fei,” Yuhui reassured his friend as he patiently helped him up the palace stairs. “You’re going to heal up and get fixed and both you and Li will be better than ever. People will eat their words. Your father will feel shame for himself.”

He helped his friend through the house, toward his room, parting doors with the careful wedging of his toes until he was able to lay Ren Fei down upon his own bed. His linens were fresh and new after his affair with Laike in the dead of night. The prince sat the bag of market items down beside Fei, then turned and fetched one of the robes he so often slept in—a thin silk thing whose shades of blue were faded into an earthier grey. Yuhui placed it next to the food.

“In case you want to change. I’ll have the doctor called down. Do you want me to bring you anything else?”

“No, just… can you help me? I’m sorry to ask.” Fei paused and looked away before he began undoing his belt. He wasn’t shy for the sake of modesty: raised together since they were infants, Fei had very little skin or scar to hide from Yu. He was more afraid the state of his ruined back would spark a reaction in his friend—afraid to watch that beautiful boy’s face settle into a cold rage for his sake when he pulled away the cloth fused into his every scab. He shed his robe without looking up, but his undershirt was the problem: there were layers of rusty blood stains all down that boy’s helpless spine. “Just… gently. Please.”

“Lift your arms. Deep breath, okay?” Predictably, Yuhui was tense in his fingers as he took the lower hem of sopped fabric, taut in the line of his every muscle as they moved in unison to help his best friend remove that filthy rag of a shirt. He seethed in the in-out subtlety of his own breath, calmed by the conflagration of anger forcibly swallowed for the time being, the clot of all the words he wanted to run back at scream at his best friend’s father—but instead would shout at his own.

“This is unacceptable. The King will hear about this,” he said with a breath like a curse, indignant when forced to reconcile these acts against the justice the Tian clan purported to stand for.

There: that was it. 

Fei never felt more loved than when Yuhui wore that ire-stricken face for him, dressed his pretty-grin mouth in that acrimonious voice for him, but fuck how he hated to cause him pain. He hissed and cried when the dried, blood crusted shirt was peeled off his back; now, he simply whimpered as he crawled into Yuhui’s bed and laid himself carefully down, flat on his stomach. 

The youngest Ren’s back was a mess of bruises and broken skin, split from too many strokes suffered in the same spots over and over. The tracers that ran down his back, once pristine and symmetrical down either side of his spine, were left in tattered fragments, shattered and disconnected, useless shrapnel glittering in the meat of the boy’s weeping wounds. 

“I’m sorry,” Fei shuddered, closing his eyes. “I wonder if… I wonder if Lady Jiling would be willing to heal them to spare me the scars.”

Yuhui sat on the edge of his bed, running his fingers slowly through Fei’s dark waves of hair, gentle motions reaching over his crown and forward to push the darkness away from his friend’s eyes.

“Maybe,” he hummed thoughtfully to the question posited, “It wouldn’t hurt to ask, either way. Hey, what kind of tea do you want today? I’ll have it prepared. You need to eat too… eventually, I guess. So stop apologizing for things that aren’t your fault and focus your efforts on something that matters: getting hungry.”

“I don’t think I realized how serious you were about that Luanshi guy,” Fei hummed low, daring to look up even if it broke his heart. Even if Yuhui was with someone else, Fei had this. This was enough.

This had to be enough.

“I’m happy for you.” Sincere despite his mumble volume, Fei laid his head on his folded forearms. “I hope he gives you all the joy you deserve, Yu.” He smirked then, a low laugh tumbling out of a cough followed soon after. “I probably can’t fuck him up if he breaks your heart but I swear to all Gods on heaven and earth that I’ll try.”

“None of that was the answer to what I asked you.” Yuhui looked more cross than he meant to, jest softening with the slumping of his shoulders, the frown his lips wore. “Yeah, I like him a lot, but you don’t have to talk like you’re an old man giving me away, Fei.” The prince shifted, angling himself to better face the Ren boy.

“Also it wasn’t even really me liking him a lot that made me snap at you. I was tired and grumpy. I played your orange game and just wanted to talk to you like a normal human being rather than having to fight and struggle and feel foolish for a little while. I know you didn’t mean any harm and I overreacted and I’m sorry.”

“I want that nice aged Shui Xian rock oolong your mom keeps for company,” Fei imparted on a grin as he closed his eyes. “It reminds me of a calmer time, a quiet place to cultivate where rain collects before it forms into waterfalls.”

That’s what Fei always wanted to be: still and silent between stones until he spilled into river rapids.

Yuhui nodded and rose from the bed. “Okay, I’ll be back in a little while. I have a few hours before we go, so I’ll spend them with you after the doctor comes in, and I get this tea, and talk to my dad.”

The young prince swept his hand through his best friend’s hair one more time, his ‘be back soon’ encompassed in the tenderness of his touch, the slow stroke that promised to return him quickly. Glancing back down toward the mess of skin made striped along Fei’s flesh, Yuhui straightened and turned to the door.

Fei barely responded, humming a low affirmative into that pillow that still smelled like a dim shade of Yuhui’s winter sun hair even if the linens did not. 

“Thank you for coming for me.” The gentle boy’s relief was finally settling into the cracks of his somnolent voice, woozy with exhaustion despite the hurt. “I know you’ll always come when I need you, Yu’er; you always know when I need you.”

Yuhui glanced back to the boy in his bed and a small smile settled across his lips. 

“Rest well, Fei,” he said like water in the distance, voice gentle in pursuit of his friend’s rapids rushing into the blackness of beyond, the soothing torpor of sleep: the nothing, the nowhere.