Chapter Text
Things are… exceedingly normal. So much so that Shen Yuan could almost believe that his life was always like this. That Binghe had always been there in his apartment like he belonged there, rearranging his cabinets and tidying up after him. He hadn't even told his parents yet and Binghe was already acting like his doting husband. Waking up in the morning and rolling over to the smell of breakfast was unusual though, old habits of skipping his morning meal imbedded in him just as strongly as his own genes. It was one of the few signs that told him Binghe hadn't always been there. He sure couldn't tell by his now tidy apartment, the shoes all lined up neatly by the door, paperwork organized in neat stacks on his desk, reminders pinned here and there, a calendar filled out with both of their busy schedules.
Even now, Binghe still preferred blacks and reds, high ankle shoes to low ankle shoes, long sleeves, he always pulled his curls back into a ponytail when he left the apartment and always tucked his keys in the same spot. Shen Yuan's keys, but he rarely touched them these days. Why should he? He rarely left without Binghe, Binghe did the driving when they did leave, Binghe always remembered to lock the door. It was just easier. All of it was just easier . Something in his chest aches with the thought that Binghe's existence alone made life easier, made burdens light and challenges into trivial matters.
They always kept the car radio turned up to match Yuan's singing, the driver's seat always slid back to its final notch to accommodate Binghe's stature. Nevermind that Shen Yuan could have just asked his parents for money for a new car for Binghe, since his kia was getting kind of old in their eyes. Binghe just smiled and said he liked the car, it was Yuan's. Careless of bluetooth and led speakers, Binghe just liked the car because Yuan liked it (even if Yuan himself rarely drove it now). He has to admit, it’s nice. It’s a quiet kind of peace that feels out of place in such a busy world.
Their mornings are quiet and routine, Binghe gets up at some obscene hour Shen Yuan doesn’t bother trying to fathom and Yuan himself gets up at 8, they spend some hours puttering around the apartment. Binghe cooks breakfast and they eat together, Shen Yuan goes to do whatever needs his attention at the moment, whether that be grading papers or intensely reading through a book that doesn’t deserve the notes he takes. Binghe brings him coffee and time slips away until they’re both getting dressed. Jeans, sneakers, Shen Yuan steals the heavy work jacket Binghe got from who knows where, Binghe ties his shoes for him so he doesn’t have to deal with that struggle.
Only by the time that they get out to the car is Shen Yuan awake and hyped up on enough caffeine to truly face the day, the same as always. Shen Yuan plugs in his phone to blast whatever music he feels like while Binghe settles in and puts on his - oh and Yuan thinks this is the best part, in the ironic and literal sense - glasses . Why would such a perfect man need glasses!? It’s unfair , screams Shen Yuan’s brain as he watches the other man.
His spotify - seemingly self aware now, Shen Yuan thinks - starts to play a song from a folk band that he added because Binghe seemed to really like them, even the first few words of the unfamiliar song feel carved into his bones, a being so familiar to him that he feels othered just to be reminded of it. The soft rumble of the car and that (definitely broken) rumble from his air conditioner suddenly fall into the peripheral.
I’ve grown a mouth so sharp and cruel
It’s all that I can give to you my dear
And when you come in quick to steal a kiss
My teeth will only cut your lips, my dear
He cuts his tongue to his canines, feeling out the sharp point as he watches the slightly blurred outside world pass them by.
And I know you mean so well
But I am not a vessel for your good intent
“A-Yuan seems distracted.” Binghe’s voice is the only thing that can ever draw him from his own mind, like a hungry fish to a shining lure; “What’s on his mind?”
“It’s just one of those days.” he responds vaguely but honestly. Binghe knows what it means. Sometimes it’s just… one of those days. He inwardly sniffs at his own lack of eloquence. It’s hard to put to words the feeling of yourself being two completely separate people. He hopes that Binghe doesn’t feel this, knows Binghe wouldn’t tell him even if he did. That boy shoulders too many burdens , he thinks bitterly, ignoring the fact that Binghe is around his age here. He’d seen Binghe’s entire life before, he’s still a boy to Yuan, even if he towers above him more now and does everything responsible for him.
Shen Yuan swallows around his numb tongue.
I will only break your pretty things
I will only wring you dry of everything
But if you’re fine with that
You can be mine like that
Yuan swears he can feel his throat closing, though he is still breathing fine. That uncomfortable closed-in feeling. He can’t speak, can’t sing. It would feel too much like an admission. Even now, such guilt permanently ingrained in his being, even with the same man as before. He doesn’t know when he stops paying attention to the weird tension in the car, the song stopping just as Binghe parks in the same lot they always park in, but in such a state, Yuan can’t help but think it feels quite desolate.
“Does Binghe have lab testing today?” Shen Yuan asks, turning his head slowly to not quite meet the other man’s eyes, lashes lowered. Binghe doesn’t mind. He never asks. He doesn’t need to .
“No, no one’s signed up yet. Too early in the semester.” his Binghe gets out of the car and gets their bags from the backseat.
“Will Binghe be joining my class today?” Things are normal , he reminds himself as he gets out too, letting Binghe shoulder both his own backpack and Shen Yuan’s crossbody bag like they weigh nothing. They don’t weigh anything to Binghe.
“Of course.” that dazzling smile smooths his rankled nerves and makes him feel lighter. Binghe isn’t in his class, he’s not in the lit department, and yet he comes to every one of Shen Yuan’s classes that don’t clash with his own. “I put those essays in shizun’s bag too.”
“Thank you.” Shen Yuan falls into step beside him, having to take quicker strides to match Binghe’s already slowed long strides. I finished grading those, right? He’ll just have to check when he gets to his office. The ‘silence’ as they walk is pleasant, it’s easier to ignore the constant sounds of cars and people after being back for a while. “Can I give Binghe those reports to grade later this week?”
“En, I’ll grade them while I’m testing.” Binghe agrees easily, as if Shen Yuan isn’t piling more work onto his already busy plate.
“The difference” Binghe once told him; “is that this Luo Binghe learned to manage his stress from Shizun.” Shen Yuan knew immediately that Binghe learned it on his own, he recalls being a distinctly stressed Peak Lord the entire time they were there . Stressed about his image, about his life, about his identity, about Binghe. “Binghe wants to make it so shizun doesn’t have to stress.” Binghe was just more resilient than Shen Yuan. A thicker face, a better brain, a stronger body, a better style of life. Where Binghe could delegate out his tasks to make them more manageable - he could grade reports while running an experiment - Yuan found himself hung up on the single tasks, either unable to focus or too focused. How Binghe read every book Shen Yuan recommended to him was still some kind of mystery, one he’d let stay that way.
“I really appreciate it, Binghe.” he says to make up for the past, for never voicing his pride and approval.
“It’s nothing, shizun.” Binghe picks something out of his hair as they cross the road, his gaze tender as he tosses whatever it was into a nearby yard.
His first class is… fine? It’s an intro class so he’s just teaching the select few who actually pay attention things they already know about reading books . It’s mortifying telling actual adults that they need to pay attention when reading a book and that taking notes helps. If it wasn’t for his specialized courses, he never would have taken this job. But! First classes being over means he can go loiter in the office and read! So he goes and does that, squirreling himself away in his corner desk with the door closed and his nose buried in some dumb romance novel that he had already plastered with sticky notes.
Binghe’s crisp knocking and “shizun it’s me” tells him it’s time for lunch. Seriously Binghe… If shizun wasn’t such an archaic term in modern society, he’d tell Binghe to stop using it for fear of being embarrassed. And…. He supposes he still is Binghe’s shizun, or was when Binghe was still figuring things out. Two lifetimes of teaching Binghe everything important. He runs his tongue over his canine as he kicks his leg out, using his leverage on the handle to pull the door open. He knows the image he strikes, entirely slumped in his seat, back at a weird angle with his book and chin resting on his chest, one leg propped on the desk (to be fair both were propped on it before) and one stretched out. Binghe has seen worse though. Binghe can fix back pain and a sore neck.
“Shizun.” Binghe says politely as he steps in and closes the door properly behind himself. They sit in their usual lunch arrangement, someone else’s desk chair stolen from across the room, elbow to elbow as they quietly eat together. He only has to beg a tiny bit for Binghe to go buy him a soda (With Yuan’s card, Binghe why are you putting up so much of a fuss, it’s costing you nothing!).
“Does Binghe want to go out to eat noodles tonight?” He knows ‘noodles’ is nebulous but he really can’t describe the mongolian grill place they found better. It’s their noodle place. Binghe puts up with his love for it and clearly tries to figure out how to make noodles at home the same way, but still puts up with it because he finally realized the importance of dates in this world. Back then , shizun eating other people's food was different, it was just a meal, but here, a date is an occasion, he understands now that it’s supposed to be special where he and Yuan can gawk at each other in public . When Binghe doesn’t answer as quickly as he normally does, Yuan looks over and finds the other man staring at him. Strangely. He’s used to the gawking but this is weird.
“Sorry… Can shizun repeat that?” Binghe seems to snap out of it when their eyes meet, gaze sharpening back onto Shen Yuan in the same intense way he always has.
“Does Binghe want to go out tonight?” he asks again, frowning when Binghe’s gaze goes unfocused again. What? The? Fuck?
“Sorry shizun….” Binghe sighs, shaking his head.
“Binghe. Noodles or no?” he asks curtly, leaning over in front of the other.
“I can make noodles at home…” the demon responds, like he usually doesn’t .
“....Okay.” Today is just one of those days, huh. Yeah I feel it too, Binghe. He nods back just to make sure he gets the point across. He’ll be sure to make Binghe sleeps early tonight.
“It’s almost time for media, does Binghe want to stay here and nap in this master’s office?” he offers, voice softening to its old tone, falling back on old speech habits. It’s a bad habit.
“No, no I can go to class. Don’t worry shizun.” Binghe’s smile isn’t as convincing but maybe that’s just Shen Yuan. The short rest of their meal is pleasant enough, Binghe’s cooking is always a treat and seeing Shen Yuan finish his entire lunch seems to wake the other man up from his stupor. The taller man tucks their stuff away into his backpack and tucks it under Shen Yuan’s desk beside Yuan’s own bag, only taking out his notebook and ‘textbook’. (Shen Yuan detests actual textbooks, he usually uses novels, this one book was the closest he’s gotten to a textbook). Shen Yuan picks at the fray of Binghe’s stolen work jacket, tucking his finger into the ripped open cuffs out of habit.
Binghe almost looks comical tucked at the other end of the small table shizun uses for his media class, completely unbothered by the other students that filter in to sit with them. Binghe is much less possessive about Shen Yuan’s teaching now, having seen the professional distance he keeps from his students. Though, he still insists on being his shizun’s student, so he still tags along. Well, and the topics shizun chooses are interesting. He smiles at the smaller man as the other flips his notebook open, skimming illegible notes for where they left off. The opposite-mirror image on either side of the table always struck something in his heart. Shizun changes his smaller round glasses out for blocky thick lens glasses that make him look much older and - in Binghe’s especially enlightened opinion - even more gorgeous (he’s still not entirely sure how that’s even possible, but this world is full of surprises).
Out of all the classes for his schedule to allow him to sit in on, it had to be the one that he had the least background knowledge on. Media and Religion, specifically media throughout time and a religion called Christianity, since it is a very well known religion in this world. His own notes are neatly laid out in front of him, more intensive than anything the actual students of the class have taken, clean characters and perfectly straight writing that Shizun taught him all those years ago but cannot replicate here in this world. He puts on his own glasses and flips through his book to skim the chapter intro again before the actual class starts. He knows shizun well, has learned martial and scholarly under him, and knows exactly how he will dissect any given subject, how he will teach any given class.
He hasn’t changed in this aspect, Shen Yuan still prefers to sit with his students than to pace the front of the classroom like a predator seeking its prey like other professors do, preferring to guide directly through the material instead of skimming subjects without considering the deeper (and sometimes more confusing) parts of it. He still sits tall at their table - this one tiny instead of the large table he used on the peak - his materials a disaster of beautiful and meticulous organization that only Binghe can truly appreciate. The other students joke that A-yuan cannot find this or that sometimes because he’s so disorganized but Binghe already knows where the thing he’s looking for is. A sheet of homework questions tucked into the page of his notebook that it is due (Shizun’s schedule is immaculate, even in his disorganization and messy writing, he keeps strict to some unknown schedule he laid out, always covering the exact amount of material he planned to, never more and never less), a folded doctor’s note tucked into the rollbook for the week that student will be out for surgery, the class syllabus tucked in the very back with various other miscellaneous notes.
At night they’d pass their books back and forth comparing their notes with one another and shizun would give him more insight into various things with his vast worldly knowledge. In class though, he’s a teacher. He called it a discussion style the first day of class, telling Binghe that it was to encourage, well, discussion, to give everyone more insight from different perspectives. Students usually seem to dread these classes, he’d heard as much from others as they chatted, but clearly their professors clearly aren’t as good as shizun. Their tiny class of only 8 students (shizun had to teach at least 35 of them multiple times a day at the peak!) huddles around the table like good friends, listening intently and casually speaking. It felt highly inappropriate, especially when some speak up to interrupt their own teacher, but Shen Yuan always praised it, always considered the information they presented.
Any perspective is a good perspective, Binghe realized. He had done his own research into the subjects covered by this class to be prepared and knew that lacking the real world experience of these subjects would be a detriment, yet some things carry between situations. It was only within the first few weeks of the semester that he experienced what the others did in class: validation. It was intoxicating. They were talking about this Jesus figure as the book presents him as ‘as much of a political figure as he is religious’, which made sense to Binghe. Religion was intertwined deeply with politics back there . He pointed out as much, that in the ‘past’ religion was so much a part of everyday life that it was politics, culture, and even attitudes. Shizun blinked at him with those big black eyes for a minute, adjusted his glasses and scribbled down a note in his book. He made it clear that he didn’t think of that, that that was a good point.
Even though it was his first time teaching this class, Binghe thinks Yuan clearly either picked up a lot from being shizun or he already had his ways set in stone. From the beginning of the class to the end, he speaks certainly and clearly, something that wouldn’t be heard in their apartment. He’s emphatic and expressive, hands moving in the air, flipping through his book and picking up chalk to draw something on the board the entire time. He’d seem nervous with all his movement if one could not hear the veracity and immaculate articulation. His drawings are bad, his hand writing on the board is only marginally more readable than his notes, but his explanations make everything clear, his pronunciation always overshadowing the word he felt he needed to spell on the board. Binghe swore he fell deeper in love with his shizun the first day of class and is still plunging deeper and deeper into that seemingly never ending abyss every day he spends listening to the other man teach.
His classes would be hard, Binghe thinks, if one didn’t pay attention, if they didn’t take heed of his emphasis and take notes, but the way Shen Yuan speaks at the head of the table etches every word into his brain like a chisel on stone. He knows he could enter Yuan’s class without any knowledge one day and leave feeling as if he understood the world (Yuan scolded him that that was likely just overconfidence before remembering that it was his head disciple who had read the entire library and looked back over his shizun’s notes to absorb even the most advanced knowledge when he was still young). He sometimes - if he has the time- turns in homeworks for the class, purely for the sake of seeing shizun grade them. ‘You may as well be getting credit for this’ one of the other students laughed.
Receiving papers back from his shizun with those same notes all over them made him feel like a child again. All the red markings in any other class would mean mistakes, lower points, but Yuan reads papers as deeply as he reads his novels, making those same messy notes along the margins - questions, considerations, corrections or praises - alongside the scribbles of underlined words, circled errors (on other papers, never his own). He did the same on the peak, staying up later in the night to personally leave feedback on every report even if it meant he slept less that night. This feels just the same as that, Binghe realized, the validation of your argument being well considered as well as the pure excitement of having shizun consider his opinion equal.
Binghe pities his younger self, that such a boy would never even be able to consider the image of their shizun as he is now, just as proud as on the Peak, but in his area of expertise, in his comfort zone of media and literature he is infinitely familiar with. He would give hundreds of days of his discipleship, hundreds of days of Shen Qingqiu teaching them the same exact way for just one day of Shen Yuan teaching, to hear the genuine passion in his voice and to see for himself the intimate knowledge of everything new and old. Shizun, afterall, has always been hungry for content, a glut for literature and paintings and everything in between. In this world, shizun's insatiable hunger for more more more is filled and looked favorably on. In his fields, his knowledge is vast. He can teach so much because he himself has dissected every single piece of literature he has put in front of his students, or, as Binghe learned from another student, would read at the pace of his students and discuss their conclusions with them, not as teachers and students, but as scholars.
Binghe loves this vision of Shen Yuan. His shizun, his husband-in-another-world-and-boyfriend-here. He thinks he would gladly follow him again if need be.