Chapter Text
Months passed, and Lu Guang blissfully forgot about Liu Xiao. Instead, he felt he was able to relax marginally in this second chance, enjoying domestic bliss with Cheng Xiaoshi who was none the wiser.
The air became warmer, and, the more time passed, it became easier and easier to relax and enjoy their time together.
They began (or, restarted, in Lu Guang’s case) their jobs, taking and developing photos while also helping clients through dives. Lu Guang helped Cheng Xiaoshi every step of the way, guiding him whenever he stepped into the past.
Things were turning out better than they had in the first timeline.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
There was something bothering Cheng Xiaoshi, a little itch in his brain that continuously bothered him even now, years later.
The first time he’d met Lu Guang, he’d been immediately captivated by his energy and enthusiasm. They’d just… clicked.
But the day after Lu Guang first slept over, he could tell that something had changed.
(Well, other than Lu Guang’s hair color, but that was beside the point.)
His entire demeanor seemed to have shifted to something more muted and reserved. Cheng Xiaoshi initially believed that he was just having an off day, but then one day became two, then a month, then more.
It got to the point where Cheng Xiaoshi was second-guessing himself, thinking that maybe he’d just imagined Lu Guang’s initial energy and enthusiasm.
It wasn’t until Cheng Xiaoshi began cleaning around the studio that he finally realized the truth.
Lu Guang had left to buy groceries, requesting that Cheng Xiaoshi tidy up their home while he was gone. He had groused outwardly about it, but was surprisingly able to clean everything fairly quickly.
Seeing as how Lu Guang wasn’t home yet, Cheng Xiaoshi migrated upstairs to begin cleaning their bedroom as well, in the hopes that he could persuade Lu Guang to get milk tea with him if he went above and beyond what was asked of him.
He tidied the desk by the window.
He dusted the shelves.
He made both of their beds.
Or, rather, he tried to.
When he climbed up onto the upper bunk and removed Lu Guang’s pillow, he stopped, staring quizzically down at the small pile of photographs that had been hiding underneath.
What are these doing here? Cheng Xiaoshi wondered as he scooped them up and descended the ladder, sitting on the edge of his own bed as he leafed through them. Most of the pictures were mundane, with a few of their bedroom and one of himself.
But the last few pictures made him gasp audibly.
In the first one sat a younger Lu Guang, his hair black and his smile wistful as he relaxed in the waning sunlight, seemingly unaware of the picture. In the photographs that followed, his smile was wider as he posed deliberately for the camera.
He looked so different, so carefree, so unlike the Lu Guang he knew that Cheng Xiaoshi couldn’t help but stare.
He hadn’t dived into a photograph by himself in a long time, but…
I got time, he thought to himself as he glanced at the clock. Lu Guang won’t be home for a while. I’m only going to check it out for a moment.
He clapped.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Lu Guang groaned as he approached the front door. He didn’t want to drop anything, so he lightly kicked at the door to try to get Cheng Xiaoshi’s attention.
But there was no sound or movement from inside.
That was slightly worrying, but it wasn’t anything that hadn’t happened before. Cheng Xiaoshi was probably just playing his game or taking a nap. Lu Guang was able to balance his bags in one hand as he fished for his keys with the other, unlocking the door and stumbling inside.
“Cheng Xiaoshi?” he called, setting the groceries down on the counter before venturing further into the sunroom. There was no sign of his partner, so maybe he was upstairs? Lu Guang began climbing the steps, pushing the door open with Cheng Xiaoshi’s name on his lips.
His voice died in his throat as he not only realized that the bedroom was empty as well, but that a stack of photographs had been strewn across the floor and lower bunk.
His photographs.
Lu Guang could feel his blood running cold, feeling like ice in his veins as he realized what had happened. He paced in the empty room, biting at his nails as he worried about Cheng Xiaoshi changing the timeline and damning himself even more than he already was.
It didn’t take long for the familiar thump to fill the silence.
Turning around, Lu Guang watched as Cheng Xiaoshi stood. Their eyes met, and Lu Guang couldn’t help but feel there was a layer of suspicion in Cheng Xiaoshi’s gaze that hadn’t been there before.
“What have you done?” the words rasped out of Lu Guang’s throat, sounding hollow.
“I went back,” Cheng Xiaoshi said in a low voice. He took a step forward. “I went back to see who you were back then. I’d almost forgotten what you were like when we first met, but…” he inhaled deeply, seeming to gather his thoughts. “But now you’re unrecognizable. You don’t just look different; it’s like you’re a completely different person.”
This was Lu Guang’s worst nightmare. He couldn’t bear to see the distrust and betrayal in Cheng Xiaoshi’s eyes, twisting his face until there was no trace of the easygoing smile he’d seen only that morning.
When Cheng Xiaoshi spoke again, it was quiet, but Lu Guang almost wished he’d yelled it: “What happened to you?”
And Lu Guang had no words, he had no answer to give. All he could do was look away from the ghost that stared at him and squeeze his eyes shut. He could feel Cheng Xiaoshi’s hands shaking where they gripped his shoulders, sure that he would develop bruises there even through his shirt.
They stood there, the silence suffocating them until, finally, Lu Guang extricated himself from Cheng Xiaoshi’s grasp. “I… I need some space.”
As he left their bedroom and descended the stairs, he could feel Cheng Xiaoshi’s gaze following him, burning him.
Even after he exited the studio and began walking aimlessly, he could feel the memory of that stare.
He cursed himself for not having the foresight to lock away his precious photographs.
He hated how Cheng Xiaoshi had forced his hand, had made him bare his own wounds to be salted. He felt vulnerable, torn open, with his deepest secret brought into the light without any warning.
It wasn’t until Lu Guang reached the bridge that he finally stopped. He leaned against the railing, watching the sunset and feeling the breeze in his hair.
This wasn’t the end of the world, he reminded himself. This was still salvageable. He could still fix this.
There was a chill in the air as the sun disappeared below the horizon.
Lu Guang shivered, letting out a single sneeze.
I should probably start heading back before Cheng Xiaoshi gets too anxious, he thought as he turned back.
The sky had grown dark by the time Lu Guang returned to the studio. He reached for the handle but frowned when he found it locked.
Was Cheng Xiaoshi really that upset with me? He winced as the thought slid into his mind accompanied by the memory of his expression.
Lu Guang’s keys were still on the counter inside next to their groceries, so he knocked on the door, hoping that Cheng Xiaoshi would be willing to let him in.
There was a shuffling from inside, then the click of the lock sliding open. Lu Guang couldn’t wait any longer; he grabbed the handle and opened it, rushing inside. “Cheng Xiaoshi, I’m sorry,” his words fell from his mouth in a torrent before he even registered his surroundings.
Before he registered Cheng Xiaoshi’s expression.
“How lovely of you to join us,” a mellifluous voice came from behind him, startling Lu Guang. He turned around.
A man stood before him with a too-large smile on his face. He was dressed strangely, wearing a tight white shirt, black undershirt, and a long, flowing coat around his shoulders. His hair was striking, bright red even in the dim light and long enough to make into a black-tipped braid.
The gun in his hand glinted in the moonlight.
Lu Guang felt himself trying to back away before the man’s other hand rocketed out and gripped his shoulder. “Oh no,” he chuckled. “Come closer. Let’s have a chat.”
The next thing he knew, he was thrown to the floor facedown, the man’s laughter ringing in his ears from above him. He tried to gather his hands under himself, to stand back up, but the man’s foot drilled down hard on him like a blade in his spine.
He could see Cheng Xiaoshi out of the corner of his eye, could see his broken and bitter expression: not quite hatred, but something similar.
It terrified him.
Lu Guang’s view was obscured by something bright that made him wince and squint. When he was able to focus on it, his stomach lurched.
On the phone screen of the man above him, he saw Liu Xiao in his apartment. The camera was positioned above the doorway, angled to get the best shot of the entire living room. There was a knock in the distance, prompting Liu Xiao to stand and leave the view of the camera.
A moment later, he returned, with a familiar figure in tow. Lu Guang watched his past self plunge the knife into Liu Xiao’s body, watched how he ducked back out of view.
Watched as Liu Xiao heaved himself up until he was half-sitting, fixing his attacker with a look that sent shivers down his spine. “Lu Guang!” his voice came through the phone speakers clearly, if a bit tinny.
Finally, he watched as Liu Xiao slumped back to the floor. His eyes flicked up towards the camera, a thin smile playing across his face.
It was as if killing Liu Xiao had made Lu Guang lose track of the full picture, making him complacent and shallow. Everything burst into clarity in a single, awful moment.
He’d caused this.
The Butterfly Effect.
“I was just showing this footage to your friend,” the man hummed, as if he was pretending to be nonchalant. Then his voice took on a mock pouting tone, “I don’t think he liked it, though.”
“Big surprise,” Cheng Xiaoshi huffed. His voice was anguished, despair bleeding into every word as he continued, “Lu Guang, why?”
The man leaned down until he was right next to Lu Guang’s ear. “Yes, Lu Guang,” he hissed. “Tell us why.”
Lu Guang could only tremble, scalding tears burning his cheeks. The man stomped on his back again, earning a choked shout that he seemed to savor like one would wine. “I…” he managed to gasp. “I did it… for him…”
“For him?” the man pointed at Cheng Xiaoshi, who looked completely lost. “You killed Xavier for him?”
And Lu Guang could only nod, feeling truly defeated.
The man regarded Cheng Xiaoshi for a moment. Then finally, when the tension between them was almost too thick for breath, he spoke again, “Your friend here is willing to kill for you.” He raised his gun, aiming directly for Cheng Xiaoshi. “Are you willing to die for him?”
The world slowed down around Lu Guang as he writhed desperately beneath the man’s foot. He might’ve screamed in rage, but he couldn’t tell.
All he could think about was how it wasn’t time yet. He was still supposed to have another year with Cheng Xiaoshi.
Was this his consequence for changing the past?
“KILL ME INSTEAD!” he found himself yelling. “PLEASE!” Lu Guang couldn’t help sobbing, only regretting that his tears made it impossible to see Cheng Xiaoshi clearly. “Please, kill me and spare him. He’s done nothing wrong!”
There was silence from above him.
Then:
“It’s true that he’s done nothing wrong… but you still have to be punished.”
With that, the crack! of the revolver filled Lu Guang’s ears, and he went very still. His sobs turned to shuddering breaths as he watched Cheng Xiaoshi look down at himself as if in slow motion. His hand instinctively raised to clutch at his chest, at the gaping wound that shouldn’t be there.
And then he was falling to the floor, face turned towards Lu Guang.
Their eyes met.
Cheng Xiaoshi’s were glowing.
Lu Guang reached as far as he could, fingers straining. He saw Cheng Xiaoshi struggle to do the same as he reached for his outstretched hand.
Just before they were about to reach each other, the gold drained from Cheng Xiaoshi’s eyes. His hand fell limp, just short of reaching Lu Guang’s.
The man must have stepped off of him, because the next thing Lu Guang knew, he was kneeling beside Cheng Xiaoshi, one hand cradling his head while the other clutched at his motionless chest.
Everything broke in a great tearing sob until Lu Guang was wailing above the body of Cheng Xiaoshi, now dead for the second time.
“Always remember,” the man thrust his face into Lu Guang’s. There was a fire in his eyes; it burned and Lu Guang gagged on its smoke mixing with the sickly-sweet stench of blood. “You brought this on yourself.”
Lu Guang couldn’t help wishing that the man would raise his gun, would shoot him as well. “Please, kill me,” he pleaded. “There’s nothing left.”
But the man stood back up, staring down at Lu Guang with something similar to contempt. “Pathetic.” He turned away, walking towards the door, but paused, one hand on the frame as he looked over his shoulder. “I’m leaving you alive so you can suffer the blame for your friend’s death.”
Lu Guang wasn’t sure how much time passed after the man left, but the sun was about to rise when he finally stood. His face felt tight and sticky with the remnants of tears, eyes sore as he gazed sadly upon the body of Cheng Xiaoshi.
All he could think about was how much earlier in the timeline he’d died this time around. It was the same day, but an entire year earlier. He shouldn’t have died at all, but now it was so much worse.
Because this time, it was entirely Lu Guang’s fault.
’You can try again,’ a voice beckoned him from upstairs and, too tired to fight it, Lu Guang ascended the steps. He found the bedroom exactly how he’d left it, with his precious photographs strewn across the floor and lower bunk.
Sifting through them, he pulled out a picture of their bedroom and set it on the desk before him.
He did his best to not look at the pair of bloody ghosts that followed in his wake.
He clapped and fell back in time.
His body still burned with phantom pains from a fight far in the future (or never, if Lu Guang had a say about it), but he composed himself before heading downstairs to take a picture of a living corpse.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
A month after Lu Guang officially moved in with the third Cheng Xiaoshi, he left the studio one day, coming back with a safe that he planted in the corner of their bedroom.
He waved away Cheng Xiaoshi’s innocent questions with vague deflections, setting his precious photographs inside to be locked away.
No longer would he be able to reach under his pillow after a particularly bad day, looking through them and reminiscing about happier times. But it was a slight comfort to know that Cheng Xiaoshi couldn’t find them again.
Not without knowing the date of his death.
The numbers stared back at Lu Guang as he programmed the lock.
091305.