The Howling of the wind //Beefleaf OS//

The howling of the wind

Qingxuan stared at the mirror askance, the faint laughter of the past days shining dimly in his green eyes.
The mirror- well - the piece of glass he was using, was a little dirty and his reflex wasn't clear, but once verified the lost brightness wasn't caused by dust more than the passing of time, he gave up trying to clean it.
He had grown strangely attached to it, and perhaps it was because it somehow reminded him of his own life.
The mirror surely had a glorious past, with the rich frame and his quite large dimension, but its time to shine had long since passed. Nevertheless, it was not his time to break yet.
He blinked a couple of times, adjusting his long brown hair and combing a few stray strands in their place. Despite all, he had managed to maintain a good appearance, and through the mirror one could see a pretty broken man, even though his beauty was now more discrete.

In the past, he had always been an eye-catching presence, always at the center of attention, going around with his fancy dress and open fan, cheerful and carefree like the wind, which sometimes still seemed to remember his past joy, when in lonely days he believed to hear a familiar laughter brought by the wind.
The raving of a broken man, once again he thought, and a faint smirk appeared on his not-so-rosy lips.
He distanced himself from the bewitched object, reaching for a cup of water he had previously poured.
He even learnt how to cook decently- at least surely better than Xie Lian - he should definetly ask his friend to practice together, if the other could manage not to start a fire in his modest house.

The weather was grey, quite cold, and he automatically shivered in his dull clothes. He wasn't feeling cold, but for some reason, he couldn't stand the heaviness of the clouds full of rain, twisting and running in the sky as in a race, and when the wind rose, his heartbeat quickened as well, blood rushing in his ears to match the howling of the wind.
He breathed deeply, calming down.
It hadn't been a good day, but whatever, he didn't even deserved to live, so to survive a day a time was a gift itself.
He was so lost in his thoughts he didn't hear the first time someone knocked on his door, probably taking it for something caused by the wind, but the second time the knocking was heavier, and he snapped out of his daze.
"Who could it be, with this weather?"

Actually it wasn't a rare incident, and more than once he seemed to hear someone knocking on his door when there was such weather and no one was around. He even went to check at his door, a couple of times, but there had never been anyone, just lashes of wind to mess with his clothes and hair.
He hurried at the door, slowly disclosing it lest damaging the old wood.
"Who's there?" he asked with caution, not really expecting someone to answer.
But to his surprise, a black figure was giving him his back in the mist, his lines blurred and dreamy-like.
The figure turned around, and a pair of familiar, amber eyes, shone through the grayiness of the landscape, piercing his gaze.

Qingxuan stepped back, first feeling fear, then realization, then an overwhelming melancholy.
He smiled sadly, and the black figure approached, dark robes fluttering in the strong wind.
"Mi- He-xiong.- Qingxuan calmly acknowledged - You finally came. I was waiting for you."
An eerie sparkle lit those feline eyes, and Qingxuan automatically shivered, goosebumps crawling on his backbone.
"Are you cold?" a husky voice asked, and the man at the door had a motion of surprise.
Then, once again, a smile bloomed on his lips, like a whitering flower born in the wrong season, colourless petals damaged by the harsh winds.
"If you want to take my life, I'm ready. I gave up a long time ago."
The shadow in front of him shifted his weight, and his contour became even more confused, mingling itself with the scenery.
Are you even real, Qingxuan whispered to himself, fixing his gaze on his past friend, near yet unapproachable. He could no longer see the faint glow of his eyes- perhaps he had closed them - when he heard a loud bump.
He stepped back, once again, confused, before his gaze laid on the black figure.
This time kneeling in front of him.
It wasn't a proper kneeling- greetings like those, he had received plenty in the past -it was like the figure had to carry an unbearable weight, and fell, no longer able to balance the heavy burden.
"He-xiong?" he whispered, his voice dispersing in the wind.
A sound of muffled words came from below him, and Qingxuan lowered his head a little: "I cannot hear you."
The hoarse voice came slowly, and equally slowly Qingxuan processed it, his eyes slowly filling with warm tears, until they were flowing free on his cheeks, hot water schorcing his cold skin, falling from his eyes and dripping on the dusty ground.
The unanswered question echoed in the wind, and Qingxuan fell on his knees as well, no longer able to stand.
"Can you forgive me?"
They breathed heavily, next to each other, the obvious answer weighting over then and stifling their breaths.
A whisper came for Qingxuan, slowly, placidly, arousing from his lips.
"I can't."
The bitter taste of tears filling his mouth, his blurred gaze fixed on the person in front of him, fearing he would faint in the wind.
"I can't, because I never blamed you."
He Xuan's snapped his eyes open, surprise wrote in his glimmering pupils.
Qingxuan sighed, swallowing away the taste of tears.
"All this time, I was wrong. All this time, I claimed your person, your friendship, your affection."
He couldn't leave the other's gaze, attracted like a moth to a candle, doomed to burn.
"All this time, I was wrong. I have no rights on you. I have no rights to call you my friend- did you ever consider me your friend, though? - and I cannot blame you. I cannot hate you.
I tried, but I can't."
He Xuan listened silently, a strange atmosphere surrounding the two kneeling figures.
"And my brother, I miss him every day, every night, everywhere. But what can I do? His murderer is right in front of me, and I can't even hate him. He did all of this for me, and I can't even stand up for his dead body.
I do not deserve to live."
He shifted his gaze, then lifted it again, his eyes shining like sharp diamonds on the point of shattering.
"So please, He-xiong, I beg you. Kill me."
He Xuan looked at him intensely, as he wasn't seeing only a pair of teary eyes, but, behind them, a sufferent soul.
Qingxuan reflected himself in those amber eyes, for the first time seeing what they really were: the eyes of another broken man, just like him.
Two men gazing at each other like their life depended on it, until a pale hand brushed his cheek, wiping some tears away.
"You." a simple word left his lips, and Qingxuan shivered again.
"If you cannot hate me, and I cannot hate you, what about... - the hoarse voice halted, as he felt he was crossing the line.
Qingxuan smiled sadly: "Go on."
He Xuan shifted his gaze: "It has been centuries since I last loved someone."
A warm feeling bloomed in Qingxuan's chest, what was even happening?
The black figure breathed heavily: "If you cannot hate me, - he met those green eyes, their souls and breaths interwiving together as he continued - Can you love me?"
Qingxuan held his breath, closing his eyes.
The tears never stopped coming, small drops of water shining in his wet eyelashes.
He then opened his eyes, sincerely replying.
"I have always loved you."
He Xuan seemed to stumble, as he wasn't expecting that answer, then his eyes finally softened and he helped Qingxuan get up.
"Are you sure?- every word a step closer - Can we?"
Now they were face to face, Qingxuan's breath tingling the other's face.
"Can we love each other?" the other asked once again, seeking for a sign.
"I am ready," he whispered "I have waited for you for a long time."
The space between them was covered, and when Qingxuan's mouth was once again filled with the taste of tears, this time, something warm and sweet matched the bitterness, and a strange sense of peace spreadt in his chest. It was tender but rough, regretful yet eager.
It was like them: the water and the wind, the calm before the storm and the storm itself.
But it was alright, Qingxuan thought, feeling a pair of strong arms encircling his body.
The storm had passed.
And if there would have been others to come, he wasn't scared.
He was no longer alone.
The door shut with a loud bump, closing them inside.
Outside, the wind was howling.

// THE END //