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From time to time, he indulges Xuanyu on his whims and stupid plans.
It doesn’t happen often, not because he doesn’t care about them, but because Xuanyu whims tend to be so silly that both end up forgetting, brushing them off until there’s a better time, and then the time never arrives.
Usually, the lack of time is due to Xue Yang’s work under Yao’s command. His brother keeps him occupied, working here and there, sending Xue Yang off on field trips that are nothing but a formal way to call mercenary work. Xuanyu doesn’t really care, as long as Xue Yang washes the blood from his hands and comes back unscratched, or at least, alive.
A job is a job, and if this keeps Xue Yang near them at the Koi Tower well, no one is clean from sin around them. Not with a family of politicians and a war behind everyone’s back, what are a few more crimes against the chance of having his best friend by his side?
“Are we really doing this?”
Xue Yang asks because, for once, he has the time to indulge in one of those whims. With Yao out of town, he has a free day from his endless task, and Xuanyu is making use of that.
“Yes, and you don’t have any saying in the matter.”
Xuanyu pushes Xue Yang inside his room, brushing away the weird looks of both servants and guards, and closes the double doors behind them. They don’t want to think about what the servant will be thinking when, not even five minutes later, a scream fills the room.
“It's freezing!”
“It wouldn't be if you were here in time!” they said as he emptied a bucket over Xue Yang's head.
“What time? What anything?” Trying to get up is useless. Xuanyu pushes him back in the tub. He wasn’t going out with a sticky Xue Yang no. “We have heating talismans!”
“Not for you young gentleman!” He starts combing Xue Yang's hair, and he screams when the comb gets tangled in a knot. “You promised me that I could dress you up, and I’m doing it!”
“What's wrong with how I look?”
“Don't make me get started.”
Usually it wasn’t that bad.
Xuanyu liked his messy looks and rugged appearance. But, from time to time, they liked seeing Xue Yang a bit more put together.
“Oh my god, A-Yang, how long has it been since you combed this mess?”
The shrug was enough answer for them.
“That explains a lot of things,” they said, frowning at the scene. “I have so much work to do with you.”
Xuanyu is, like with everything they do, careful and elegant. Most people think of them as clumsy and messy, but the truth is, when it comes to things he loves, Xuanyu is, first of all, an artist. The six arts came easily to him, and even if people tended to look at them over their shoulders, Xuanyu knew that he had enough skill to surpass those who wronged him.
But, with time, Xuanyu had learned to not care.
To use his skills for the things he wanted and for the people he cared for.
So they wrap Xue Yang's chest with steady movements, the fabric is soft and clean, perfumed with jasmine water, and softened with a special mix of herbs.
They coated Xue Yang’s scars, both old and new, in that mix too. They bandage the newest ones, which are still tender and flushed pink. There’s something so relaxing, about taking care of a person so bad at taking care of himself as Xue Yang. It’s gratifying to have him relax and melt under his hands as he takes care of the old whip scars on his back.
“Breathe in,” they say once all the scars are taken care of and he’s dressed again. Xue Yang, for once in his life, listens. He takes a deep breath, and Xuanyu undoes one of the layers. “Again.”
This time, they hum in approval. Xue Yang can breathe with ease, and the fabric is not digging into the skin under his arms. So Xuanyu tucks the end of the fabric under the rest of it and makes Xue Yang turn around to face the mirror.
“Told you it would be easier like this.”
It's not like Xue Yang had a lot to hide, a scrawny street urchin like he was. Resting his hand against his chest and feeling the smooth surface felt great, and Xuanyu could see a sharp smile growing in the reflection that the mirror was showing them.
“It's to lose,” he said. Because he always needed to complain about something. It makes Xuanyu laugh, because they know that it’s not a real complaint.
“I’ll break your ribs at the training grounds whenever you desire MeiMei, but not now,” There’s nothing good about a bruised ribcage or, in a worst case scenario, a punctured lung. “Now dress, or we’ll be late.”
There’s a new set of robes ready for him.
Jin’s disciple robes, tinted in back and gold instead of plain yellow.
“It´s heavy," he says when Xuanyu starts to wrap him around the fabric. They’re just in the second layer, and he already feels like melting. "How am I supposed to walk around wearing this?”
Xuanyu’s birthday banquet was happening that night, and for some reason, he wasn´t allowed to stay in his room and hide from all the stupid people that flooded Lanling these days.
“You should dress up more often, MeiMei, this looks good on you.”
“My old robes are more comfortable.”
“Welcome to upper class life, it’s not supposed to be comfortable,” they laughed as he offered him the last layer of the robe. “Rich people have problems too.”
It was a joke. He knew that it was just a silly joke, but he was about to burn. Lanling was a strange place. It wasn’t too bad, he had free access to the library, and he could spend time with Xuanyu, but it was so... artificial and cold and untouchable.
“I look ridiculous.”
“You look great, A-Yang,” Xuanyu said, taking his hand so he could add bracelets around his wrist, instead of the usual leather bands. “It´s a special day, we all need to be dressed nicely, more than usual at least.”
“Look at me,” Xuanyu ignores whatever complaint was about to come out of Xue Yang’s mouth, hands caressing his face. “Yu women have some fancy tricks in our sleeves, you know? I picked a few ones from them in the last conference.”
He could feel the tingle of energy when their fingers pressed against his skin, and, when he looked into the mirror, the dark circles under his eyes were gone.
“It only lasts a few hours, but those ones were unfixable with makeup.”
“You already dressed me up, Xuanyu, you’re not putting more shit in my face!”
“It’s just some makeup!”
And with a strength Xue Yang forgets they possess, he pushes Xue Yang into the chair.
“I don’t want to look like a woman, Xuanyu.”
“With your manners?” Xuanyu laughs, settling in his lap in a more comfortable way. “I could put you in my sister's robes and no one would think of you as a woman.”
He gets it.
He understands the way Xue Yang wants to be seen, the fear of being seen as someone he buried a long time ago. He’s always performing, always imposing his voice and trying to look bigger, scarier... but he doesn’t need either of those things when they’re alone.
And he wants Xue Yang to know it.
He loves him for him, not for some big pretenses.
“If you look in the mirror, and want to wipe it off, I’ll help you,” he tells him, holding his chin so he keeps his head steady. “But give it one chance, I think you’ll like it.”
Xuanyu is beautiful, everyone knows it.
He carries himself with grace, like they finally learned how to fit into their own skin after years of awkwardness. Xuanyu walks with the confidence of someone who knows that they’re pretty. From the soft curve of his nose to the curls that frame their face to the way he walks, Xuanyu knows that he’s his mother's child.
That her beauty carries through him, and he’s proud of it. Of how beauty and charm can be used as a weapon and a way of getting things he wants. There’s no shame in using his skills, even if people like his father would think of it as unworthy of the Jin’s bloodline.
And, for once, he wants Xue Yang to feel that kind of power too.
Xue Yang is charming in the same way a dangerous animal could appeal to you. He’s all sharp lines and broken edges. Bitter and rude, with an aggressive kind of beauty.
Xuanyu traces the shape of his nose, slow and featherlike, and can’t help but smile when Xue Yang’s answer to the caress is a small sneeze.
“Look up,” they say, tilting Xue Yang’s head back after dipping the brush in the black paint.
“Don’t poke my eye out!”
“I won’t if you stop squirming! Let the master work MeiMei,” Xuanyu said as they cleaned Xue Yang's lips with a damp cloth, The first attempt of applying the rogue messed up when the other couldn’t keep his mouth closed for more than two seconds. “And leave red for me.”
Xue Yang swallowed, why was his throat so dry?
“I've been working on something... look,” they opened a tiny box, there was something black in there, different from the paint they had used to make Xue Yang’s eyes sharper. “I extracted the rouge from paper lipstick and added a small touch of magic.”
Ok now he was curious.
Between them, Xuanyu was better with talismans and mixtures. Leave it to them to create the most dangerous thing a cultivator had ever seen.
“And you did that for...” he asks, arching a thick eyebrow until it disappears behind his bangs.
“Someone I know is the most useless musician I have ever met,” they say. And well, Xue Yang can’t say that’s a lie. He might be able of lots of things. But music—or any of the sixth arts—is not one of them. “Wei Wuxian diaries talked about controlling resentful energy using wind instruments, but, in battle, enemies can manage to immobilize your hands, with this...” and they start to paint Xue Yang's lips using a brush. With Xuanyu so close, Xue Yang forgets how to breathe. “Just a whistle would do.”
The paint feels thick against his skin, but he can also feel the tingle of magic and energy.
“You made a weapon out of makeup?”
“Well, if it brings you home safe, I think it’s worth the try.”
Being loved to the point of invention is something Xue Yang never thought that he would live through.
But here he stands.
Observing as Xuanyu gets ready, doing their own make-up with just a few movements born from years of practice. He takes less time to be ready than the one he spent transforming Xue Yang into someone worthy of being called handsome.
The last thing, Xuanyu says, is the hair. The comb went easily through Xue Yang black hair, and Xuanyu always found detangling it relaxing. Xue Yang´s hair bristled with rain, but the rest of the time it was just a dark pool of ink flowing to his waist. They were almost jealous of it, for someone who didn’t care about it, Xue Yang’s hair was beautiful.
Xuanyu parted his hair in sections, braiding the first part in an intricate pattern, and, once finished, Xuanyu leaned in, opening one of the drawers to pull out some hair pins. “Be still.”
Xue Yang was silent as Xuanyu worked, pulling his long hair up in a complex mix of braids that ended in a high ponytail. Like that, part of Xue Yang´s scarred back was in view, and Xuanyu traced the pale lines with his fingers, nails lightly grazing the tan skin.
Once everything is done, Xuanyu places a strand of hair behind his ear carefully, and Xue Yang watches Xuanyu through the copper mirror. He observes the boy standing behind him, not looking away as their hands carefully deal with the rat nest Xue Yang has for hair. Xuanyu finishes the braid and leans in to kiss the crown of his head with a softness he doubted he could ever get used to.
From time to time, when he wasn’t covered in grime and dirt, people told Xue Yang that he was pretty. And Xue Yang had never cared about it, neither knew how to use it.
Everyone treated beautiful people better, that was a fact. But he didn’t want the kind of attention beauty attracted when you lived in the street, and he didn’t like using his face to obtain things when he could fight for it.
So he usually forgot about it. About the people telling him that such a pretty face was a waste in the streets.
“I never understood what you saw in me,” he says, looking at Xuanyu then, a small smile on his face, lit by the candles of the room. “But I guess I look kind of nice now.”
Turning the ugly duckling into a swan was a talent only Xuanyu could have.
He almost didn't recognize himself in the mirror. Never, in his seventeen years of life, had he seemed so... normal. He looked like a cultivator, a real one. Not a street rat. Not a murderer...
He was always dressed in his black robes. It was easier to hide the blood in them. But now they were embroidered in golden threads. Xuanyu leaned over, hugging him and leaving a kiss on his temple, carefully wiping the lipstick mark while laughing.
“Told you so,” they say. “You like it?”
It was nice.
Forgetting what they were for a moment, playing dress up and walking out that door wearing costumes and pretending to be someone they’re not.
It feels nice, being more than a bastard and a murderer.
More than a family disappointment and a puppet.
But for him more elegant than the usual was not wearing a uniform covered in dirt and blood, not this. It felt like a costume, from the robes to the jewels and the hair.
“One last thing before we go.”
“You’re not putting me in heels, Xuanyu,” he has enough with wearing shoes.
“Actually,” they say, laughing at Xue Yang stupid antics. “It´s a gift.”
Xuanyu offered him a red handkerchief, a small square of fabric that he had hid in the secret compartment of his wardrobe, fearing more than anything else that someone would steal it.
“For me?”
When he opens the gift, he finds a red jewel attached to a golden chain. The stone is small and simple, it doesn’t look flashy, but it’s beautiful. Xuanyu grabs it from Xue Yang’s hand, and they put the necklace around Xue Yang´s neck, the red gem resting against his chest as Xuanyu closes the clasp of the jewel with a click.
“Are you for real?”
Xue Yang´s hand rested over the jewel, turning around so he could look at Xuanyu, his eyes wandered over his face and rested on Xuanyu´s red earrings that clearly matched the necklace.
“Are you trying to betroth me, Mo Xuanyu?” Xue Yang smiled, so beautiful and just for him. A bit crocked. A bit ugly. But Xuanyu loved that smile. “We´ve been together for a few months, and you want to condemn your life to me?”
“Well… would you say yes if I asked?”
Xue Yang looks at him. Red eyes wide open and a shitty smirk on his face.
“That sounds like a really big future plan, doesn’t it?”
“What else would you like to do?” Xuanyu wraps his arms around Xue Yang’s waist and he laughs, leaning against them with a smile.
“Don’t know, keep training?”
“That sounds boring, MeiMei.”
“I want my own army of fierce corpses, Xuanyu, I need to get better for that.”
“What about a date? We can go on a trip, I´m sure Yao would allow us to do it.”
Xue Yang looks at them, and Xuanyu can see the gears turning inside his mind.
“Do you want to expend time with me?”
“We´re dating Xue Yang, you know, that thing people do when they like each other.”
“How do you know that I really like you, Xuanyu?” He leaned in, getting on his tiptoes to face Xuanyu. “Maybe I just want your money...”
“I´m a bastard, who knows if I will inherit something. Your taste is terrible if you wanted money.”
“We can kill your father. He´s an asshole.”
“What?”
“And your cousin...” he waved, gesturing something. “He´s a bitch. And then your other cousins... and... we put you on the throne.”
“So, you didn´t love me two days ago, and now you want to put me on a throne?” Xuanyu raised an eyebrow. “How romantic MeiMei.”
“I know,” he laughs, and even if it’s a weird sound, Xuanyu loves it.
He searches Xue Yang’s face for any signs of discomfort, but Xue Yang’s eyes flutter closed again with a sigh, Xuanyu knows that he’s in pain, he always is, but it doesn’t look too bad today.
This close, Xue Yang, is not perfect. His nose is a little crooked, maybe from the one too many times he broke it. So are his teeth (two of them are chipped), and his fangs are a little too sharp for a human. A scar crosses his lip, faint and pale, silver under the light of the candles. Another one does the same on his eyebrow.
But Xuanyu’s thumb traces the shape of his crocked nose.
And then his sharp jaw.
Their fingers caress rough skin, and he can’t help but smile.
To him, Xue Yang looks so pretty either way. Afar or close.
“Can I kiss you?” it’s only a whisper.
Because Xue Yang’s face fits on his hands perfectly when he moves to hold him, they tilt his head up, soft and gentle. Instead of an answer, Xue Yang's hands are suddenly on his face, cradling it softly. His hands, his touch, are not soft. Xue Yang hands are scared and rough at touch, but it feels gentle. And he pulls Xuanyu down before leaning in to kiss them. When it happens, Xuanyu feels lighting down his back, fire in their veins, and kissing Xue Yang is making the butterflies on his stomach turn into a hurricane.
It’s a feeling that would never change, because they can’t believe they’re allowed to have this, and as long as it last, it won't go to waste.