Xingyun Oneshots

110 - The Little Things (That Aren't So Little)

Chongyun, especially so after they started dating, often praised Xingqiu for how good he was at writing stories and poetry.

He says it's almost like Xingqiu eats, sleeps and breathes poetry, and it's true, it's something that's always on his mind like an itch he has to scratch every time he gets a good idea.

But secretly, deep down, Xingqiu sort of thinks (okay, not sort of, he does) that Chongyun is far better with his words than he is, in the things that really matter.

What he means is that while Chongyun doesn't spin artfully crafted poems at whimsy or dreamily recites some sort of excerpt from an emotion-soaked poem book, or even really does any sort of poetry at all unless Xingqiu prompts him to-

-he says the words that matter the most in the most beautiful way, and Xingqiu can't help but feel so in awe everytime he does. He's almost a little jealous Chongyun can say these words so often, let alone speak them so they fall from his lips in a silky, light manner, kept soft behind his teeth as it lifts up off his tongue and goes straight to his heart.

Xingqiu's actually embarrassed he can't say the words like Chongyun does, because how can he even begin to prove to Chongyun he means them so well, if he, as a poet, can't find his own equivalent of doing so?!

He'd thought of doing his own words or phrases, something that could mean the same thing, but it's his own version or way of saying it, but nothing compares.

Nothing is sweeter, nothing is stronger. Nothing is more lovely and light or delicate and makes him blush so hard he feels his cheeks burn like fire.

Nothing can ever substitute an I love you, and he knows it.

So every time Chongyun continues to deliver them into his ears, he listens, and with his full attention, tries to figure out what makes his saying it so beautiful (besides the fact he's in love with him, Chongyun could say damn near anything and he'd still fawn over it.)

Every time Chongyun has to go somewhere and leave Xingqiu for a while, unless they're in public or around many people, he tells Xingqiu he loves him before he goes.

Xingqiu never knows what else to say in the moment, it always takes his breath away, so he eventually took to giving him affection instead, as a way to try and hope to reciprocate it.

So Xingqiu would pepper sweet kisses on his lips, inked with lip gloss on some days and full of tea-tasting wonder on others (so at some point Chongyun would pull away and Xingqiu would leave him almost smelling like herbal teas), making sure to press his lips firmly and deliberately against his skin, like Chongyun were not a person but a beautiful carving or statue that he couldn't stop looking at and finding inspiration within, like a muse for all his work.

But Chongyun was better than a beautiful carving or statue, because his cheeks were warm, and dusted pink, and his eyelashes fluttered shut against his skin when Xingqiu kissed him, and he leaned forward to cup Xingqiu's cheeks as if to guide him along the curves and crevices of his face, to leave none of it without his admiration.

Even if it only lasted seconds, that was how Xingqiu saw it, and their relationship, and the world - like it was all a silky poem he couldn't stop writing.

As a poet, everything had some hidden meaning, everything had to be amplified in power, everything was so much more impactful to him than others saw it.

Chongyun had turned to leave one day, before his bright eyes widened and he spun a bit on his heel, stumbling a bit to keep his balance. "Oh, oh-!"

He'd went back to Xingqiu, having been in such a rush to get going he'd almost forgotten, and let Xingqiu pepper kisses to his cheeks, eyelids, nose and temple before ending on his mouth like he always did (repetition to amplify a point was another strong factor of poetry).