Work Text:
mu qing hates his name.
thinks of it as a ridiculous joke by the universe, remembers the way the gods laughed at him for it.
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mu qing? that’s your name??
pfft. so that’s why you follow around that precious crown prince of yours like a lovesick dog
it only makes sense that a pathetic failure like him would attract disgusting pests like you.
i suppose it’s true what they say, birds of a feather flock together
although he knows that this is merely another one of their sick hobbies and that it’s best to pay them no mind, mu qing still feels the knot in his chest tightening and pulling until insecurity pools heavy inside his body.
if feng xin were here, he’d probably yell and curse at them with that foul mouth of his while saying something like, “get lost you assholes! who the fuck do you think you’re talking about?!” before scolding mu qing for not speaking up, “what’s with the sour face? you know better than to listen to their bullshit.”
but mu qing isn’t him, and feng xin is no longer his companion. not since they went their separate ways.
it’d be so much easier to ignore their taunts if they weren’t true, yet there is a sliver of truth to their words.
it’s why he kicked that young boy out of the army, despite reasoning with himself that it was for the child’s own safety, as though convincing himself would somehow rid away the guilt that plagued him. guilt over the fact that part of him was jealous that someone else had caught his highness’s attention.
it was such a ridiculous thing to fuss about, yet mu qing remembers the dread that gripped him at the thought of being replaced by that scrawny boy, recalls the way his hands fisted tighter around the saber that hung on his waist—afraid they’d take it away and give it to that youth instead.
mu qing didn’t know what he’d do if his highness ever pushed him away. so he does it first. leaves them behind, failing to cut the string tied around his heart.
it tugs him back.
and he’s standing in front of the wooden door, head bowed as he silently hands feng xin bags of rice and medicine, quietly wishing for a compliment from xie lian, only to be met with anger at his supposed “betrayal”. but he doesn’t say a word, remains silent as his prince throws grains of rice at him, accepts it as his punishment. for leaving, for pushing away, for daring to crave affection from his highness.
thus, mu qing is alone once again.
still,
he can’t help but yearn. for kindness, for attention.
for love.