Chapter Text
The first time Mu Qing meets Feng Xin too much goes wrong and too little goes right.
Mu Qing has the temper of a wild dog, the patience of a child and too much unexplained prejudice against Guides.
Instead of getting introduced to his new Guide under the correct circumstances, when he’s not agitated and injured, Mu Qing has the pleasure of meeting them when he’s bruised and battered—barely recovered from his recent lash out.
He’d lost control of the situation on the battlefield and rampaged just a day before, and seeing as Mu Qing was not signed with a Guide, the higher ups had no choice but to introduce potential partners to him—even if his situation wasn’t dire.
Being dependent on sedatives couldn’t possibly turn out well in the long run.
He remembers the conversation very well, especially because Mei Nianqing specifically called him up to his office personally.
Mu Qing sits with his arms crossed in front of his chest; his face contorted into an ugly scowl as he stares at the eye blinding white wall angrily. He’s sure his hate for infirmaries would never go away.
“You can’t expect drugs to work miracles for you.”
“I know how to keep myself in check. I rarely lose control, Commander. It was an honest mistake—”
“I think you ought to listen to your body. Any further use of the drugs will make them ineffective against you. What then?”
“That won’t happen for at least another ten—”
“Just think about it, will you? We can talk more then. You’re important to us, Mu Qing.”
Yeah right, important. Mu Qing knows why the company is pushing him towards Guidance—it’s all about sustainability.
Sedatives are manmade, and therefore, not perfect. Prolonged use can wear the body down and dull its effects until consuming the drug serves no purpose.
And yet, many individuals prefer sedatives, simply because work wonders for Esper’s. It offers independent security—whereas in a Guide/Esper relationship, the Esper is left leaning on the Guide for support.
Mu Qing hates relying on anyone. He’s always been a one-man team. He doesn’t need support.
And yet his body is turning against him, betraying his sense of independence.
Two years have gone by since he first talked with Mei Nianqing about possibly signing with a Guide. He’d thought about it, or at least pretended to think about it, and refused.
That was the end of it, and Mu Qing was content with his life.
Until he rampaged again. Then again, and again until he finally got himself tested and was punched in the face with just two sentences.
“The sedatives can’t control your energy output anymore. Your body is slowly shutting down the more you use your energy.”
Evidently, Mu Qing’s sedatives were becoming ineffective unusually quickly.
It would’ve been something if Mu Qing were in the early stages of energy destabilization—but because he’d crossed his limit countless times, his body had enough, and he couldn’t even think of using his abilities without nearly kicking the bucket after just an hour of fighting.
His missions usually lasted over five hours and seeing as he was higher ranking than most, that also meant that he was responsible for looking out for his colleagues and teammates.
Mu Qing is fairly good at keeping his calm and giving out orders under stressful situations—but with his health declining so steadily, his team has suffered genuine losses.
And wouldn’t it be incredibly selfish of him to continue fighting under such circumstances?
And so, Mu Qing sits mutedly on the hospital bed with no desire to live, trying to ignore the sharp smell and sting of disinfectant hanging in the air.
Hospitals really were devoid of any life.
He chews on the inside of his lips and tries to push the feeling of his nerves trying to catch fire from his agitation away.
This isn’t the first time he’s meeting his Guide—in fact, the first time was twenty minutes ago but it had to be cut short because Mu Qing got too angry and lashed out violently.
Unfortunately, after throwing a glass after the Guide, one of Mu Qing’s wrists were now tied to the bed with special restraints, made to withhold nearly anything and everything.
A woman with dark hair pops her hair into the room, her face blank. “You ready to talk now?”
Mu Qing scowls. “Send him in.”
He watches the door slide open with tired eyes and promptly looks away when a tall man enters with his head bowed as he whispers something with a deadpan.
“You sure he won’t cut my head off this time?”
“Just go.”
The man stumbles as he’s pushed inside slightly, and the door bangs shut behind him. Mu Qing turns his head, eyes locking with the other’s.
The door slides shut loudly, then opens again. The same woman from earlier peeks inside, eyes slightly squinted. “If I hear anything break, or any shouting, your free hand is joining the other.”
Mu Qing clicks his tongue but eventually nods stiffly, glaring at the wall before willing his eyes to meet the Guide’s.
With that, she’s gone.
Silence fills the room immediately, tense and awkward. Mu Qing refuses to speak first, simply staring the Guide down.
Eventually, the man sits down a chair and clears his throat. “So, Mu Qing?”
“Esper Mu,” Mu Qing corrects coldly, his gaze harsh and unrelenting.
The man blinks at him with a bewildered look, his eyebrow twitching slightly. “Right, Esper Mu. I’m Feng Xin.”
Mu Qing stares.
“… I see they tied you up,” the man, Feng Xin, says. It was hard to catch the man’s name before, with all the shouting and glass-throwing happening. Maybe Mu Qing just didn’t want to remember his name.
“And whose fault is that?” Mu Qing shoots back.
That gives pause to Feng Xin. Mu Qing watches as he leans forward in his seat, his face confused. “You threw a glass at me.”
“It’s my glass, I can do whatever I want with it,” Mu Qing reasons, his voice chilly.
The Guide’s mouth drops open, moving soundlessly like that of a fish, before he drops his face into his palm. “Okay,” he says. “It’s not your glass. It’s the hospitals glass.”
“They gave it to me. As long as I am here, I get to do whatever I want with the damn glass. Drink from it, stare at it—everything.”
“Why did you have to throw it at me then?” Feng Xin mumbles defeatedly, face still hidden by his palm.
Mu Qing looks to the side with a glare. “Because you annoy me.”
“I didn’t even say a word!”
“Oh, don’t worry, seeing your face was more than enough.”
“Sorry, do you know me? Did I do something to you unknowingly? Because I’m just trying to do my job!” Feng Xin shouts loudly at first, then tones it down with an anxious glance to the door.
Mu Qing observes him for a second before scoffing mockingly. “What, you scared? Shout all you want, go ahead. Seeing the asshole who tried to throw a glass at you being restrained fills you with joy, doesn’t it?”
“We—” Feng Xin sighs loudly, closing his eyes before exhaling slowly.
“Let’s start over. I’m sorry for shouting, and to answer your question, no. Nothing about this situation fills me with joy. So, my name is Feng Xin. I’ll be your Guide and take care of you from now.”
Mu Qing glares at him for a while. Then, “Don’t expect me to allow you to treat me like a child. I can take care of myself.”
“I’m not treating you like a child, nor do I plan to do so anytime soon,” Feng Xin says, adjusting his collar slightly, his face red from getting worked up. “I’m saying that you can trust me to catch you when you fall.”
Mu Qing feels anger rise within him, wrapping around his organs tightly and consuming his soul at an alarming rate. “I don’t fall,” he grits out. “I don’t need you to catch me. I don’t even know who you are.”
Feng Xin simply stares at him quietly for a few seconds, eyes raking over Mu Qing’s form. It doesn’t take long for the Esper to realize that he’s assessing his current state.
“Stop that.”
“Stop what?”
Mu Qing’s eye twitches when Feng Xin goes right back to analyzing him again.
“That!” He exclaims angrily. “Stop trying to figure me out!”
“I’m not trying to do anything,” Feng Xin says, voice tight. Then, from seemingly nowhere, he pulls out a tablet—and Mu Qing’s expression turns ashen.
“It says here—”
“Why do you already have data on me?! Shit—!” Mu Qing says, sitting up abruptly. The sudden movement causes his restraints to tighten—and so, he goes bouncing back almost violently.
Feng Xin ignores his colorful cussing, waiting for Mu Qing to settle down with a frown.
“Because you signed with me already,” Feng Xin deadpans, tensing when Mu Qing starts looking for stuff to throw. Fortunately, his bedside tables were cleared after his initial outburst, for safety measures.
“Bullshit! I didn’t want to sign that fucking contract!” Mu Qing struggles against his restraints more, his chest heaving heavily from his near-panicked breathing.
Feng Xin stands up at the sight of Mu Qing’s genuine panic, torn between walking closer and keeping his distance. “I don’t—“
Mu Qing ignores him and yanks his arm away from the cuffs multiple times, bruising his wrist. “Fuck! Get this shit off of me!”
Over the loud clanging, Feng Xin tries to regain control of the room. “Okay—Okay, calm down! I get it! I won’t look at it—”
“Don’t tell me what to fucking do!” Mu Qing screams hoarsely, ignoring the way the injury on his side is acting up from all the abrupt movement.
“You’re going to hurt yourself!” Feng Xin raises his voice in a moment of stress, but then the door slides open, thudding against its case loudly and startling both Feng Xin and Mu Qing.
“What did I say about shouting?” The woman from earlier steps in, revealing her tall figure. Mu Qing stares at her, bewilderment swirling in his eyes.
“Undo these,” he grits out, face pale, “I want to leave!”
“You can’t leave yet,” the woman says, already reaching to her belt to unhook the second pair of restraints.
Mu Qing’s stomach drops at the sight, his eyes going wide. He starts thrashing even more. “You’re not putting that shit on me again!”
The woman steps closer, sighing. “Look, this is for your own—”
“I said no! I didn’t do anything!” Mu Qing continues to scream, frustration causing his eyes to water. Fuck, he couldn’t use his abilities properly, nor could he break free with sheer strength—what the hell was happening to him? Why?
His heartrate spikes as she holds the restraints up in front of him, trying to grab his hand even as he struggles to twist away from her grip.
Almost as if on instinct, Mu Qing releases a burst of energy—and uncontrolled ice forms all over his arms, creeping up to his neck.
Suddenly, it feels like Mu Qing’s ears are stuffed with cotton, or like his head is submerged in water—because he can’t hear anything over his panic.
His heart hammers against his ribcage as she successfully snatches his wrist, ignoring the chilly ice, and his blood roars in his ears so loudly that he thinks it could burst his eardrums.
But then her entire arm is yanked away harshly and Mu Qing blinks against the sudden dark edges and blurriness in his vision, his chest tight—too tight, too much pressure.
Icy dust rises in front of his eyes, but he can barely feel it when it dissolves on his burning skin.
Mu Qing pulls harder at the restraints, praying for them to just fall away so that he can lock himself into the room—alone. Run away, if he has to. Either way, they don’t budge no matter what.
Soon, it feels like everything is moving is slow motion, and he blinks dazedly, lungs burning but not working,
Mu Qing looks up at the scene playing out in front of him with wide, disturbed eyes—still pressing his body into the mattress as hard as he can, desperately trying to get away in his disorientation.
With labored breathing and delayed sound, Mu Qing registers Feng Xin stepping between them, serving as a natural wall—a firm, unmoving security.
He can vaguely hear loud arguing through the ringing in his ears, but soon, all he can focus on is his breathing and how lightheaded he feels.
It’s not long before he loses consciousness, limply falling back against the messy sheets.
The next time Mu Qing awakens, he’s still where he was before—the infirmary. This time, however, when Mu Qing squints his eyes open, he’s not alone and his wrist is no longer cuffed to the side of the bed.
Mu Qing frowns, sitting up while ignoring the feeling of his brain trying to jump out from within his head.
“You’re awake,” Feng Xin calls out, sitting up on his chair with a grunt and a tired expression on his face. “How are you feeling? The doctor said you fainted from stress.”
Mu Qing stares at him, then the wall, and then at his hands. So, he’d lost consciousness after throwing a fit? How great, how mature.
“What the hell are you still doing here?” Mu Qing rasps, masking the shame swelling in his chest before swallowing painfully. He looks around the room for water almost instinctively, searching to quench his thirst. “Where’s the lady?”
Feng Xin gets up immediately, not having been told anything—and grabs a paper cup from the water station before filling it generously. “I sent her away.”
He then brings it to Mu Qing’s side and sets it down on the table. Mu Qing doesn’t even spare the cup a glance, instead, he sighs tiredly and looks away.
“What about restraining the monster on the bed?” He mocks, eyes filled with resentment and humiliation. His lungs burn, for some reason.
As if his own stress wasn’t enough, they were forcing him to talk to people he didn’t want to and even going as far as tying him to his bed when he expressed his unwillingness through violence instead of words.
Feng Xin stands around idly, not responding for a while. Then, very grimly, he says, “You’re not a madman, so I undid your restraints.”
“On whose orders?”
“Mine.”
Mu Qing turns his head slightly but ultimately decides that he does not want to look at the Guide and simply stares ahead angrily. He wants to says something out of pocket, to mock the man, but he bites his tongue instead.
Wasting more of his energy isn’t something he’s looking to do. And just who was Feng Xin to be helping Mu Qing anyway?
When Feng Xin realizes he’s not going to drink, he clicks his tongue exasperatedly. Mu Qing flinches when the cup is shoved in his hands, albeit gently. “Aren’t you going to drink already?” Feng Xin presses.
“I don’t need this,” Mu Qing pulls his hand back instinctively, and because Feng Xin wasn’t expecting the sudden movement, his grip isn’t nearly tight enough to prevent the whole damn thing from pouring all over Mu Qing’s lap.
They both freeze, and an awkward silence descends upon them.
Mu Qing cranes his head with a blank yet crazed look on his face, trying his best not to lash out. Feng Xin backs away instinctively. “I’m—“
“Get out.”
“Listen—”
“I said get the fuck out!”
An entire week later, Mu Qing was free to go. After telling Feng Xin to get lost, and refusing to see anyone but Xie Lian, Mu Qing had sat in his bed, brooding while going over the pros and cons of his predicament—ignoring the lump in his throat.
Complaining about the situation and crying about it were two different topics—and fuck if Mu Qing was going to let his stifled emotions get the best of him.
On one hand, he couldn’t run away from his problems forever and refuse Guidance simply because he did not want to become dependent on another person, but on the other hand, he couldn’t get over his pride and accept the help that was offered to him either.
It really was … quite the difficult situation, to say the least.
Mu Qing adjusts his belt quickly, checking his pouch for sedatives. Yeah, his sedatives didn’t work—but that was only his prescribed amount. It wasn’t the highest dosage, just slightly less, but it would work…
If he took more.
There was a reason why an Esper was only allowed their prescribed dosage—determined by a long medical examination. It was based on their weight and energy fluctuations, but Mu Qing didn’t care.
His body could collapse into itself before he admitted defeat.
With a grounding exhale, Mu Qing steadily drops three pills onto his palm and quickly swallows them dry. The rest he packs away into the pouch resting on his belt.
Checking his pockets for the rest of his items, he quickly leaves his dorm. He was assigned to a mission instead of simple patrol today, which meant he needed to meet his team and go over the details on site.
The Gate that had opened was strange, but it wasn’t anything they hadn’t dealt with before. They needed to go inside, eliminate the main threat, and take care of the low-level Abnormalities afterwards.
Simple enough, just high in difficulty.
Except for the fact that he hadn’t undergone any Guidance and that no one had caught on yet. Feng Xin hadn’t sought him out either. He’d told Xie Lian that he would continue swallowing pills until his stomach burst, but he earned himself a scolding by declaring something so ridiculous.
Of course, Mu Qing received silent treatment when he mentioned that Xie Lian was practically doing the same.
But Mu Qing had it under control. He just needed to take his pills obediently, go over his limit, and take out Abnormalities diligently.
By the time Mu Qing arrives at the closed off site, he’s buzzing with nerves. To him, fighting was something he could rely on when his mind was tormented by his habit of anxiously going over the same situation thousands of times.
Being Mu Qing meant being hypervigilant, never allowing his brain to shut off and constantly being on edge—overthinking and overanalyzing.
But fighting allowed him to focus on his body, to focus on his instinct. Not his head or his heart.
And yet.
Mu Qing instinctively looks around as he approaches his colleagues and pauses mid-movement, a full body chill coursing through him.
The universe fucking hates him.
Sixty red alarms go off in his head at once when he sees Feng Xin approaching him, walking almost leisurely.
Mu Qing frowns, coming to a stop automatically. Suddenly, he feels a buzzing on his wrist—and his confusion deepens when he sees his watch flash red continuously.
Feng Xin finally catches up to him. “Esper Mu,” he greets, expression tight. “What a surprise, seeing you here.”
Immediately, Mu Qing can tell that something is off. “This is my teams area. What are you doing here?”
“Oh, your team is on a mission?” Feng Xin asks with a raised brow.
Mu Qing blinks blankly, looking over Feng Xin’s clothes. To his surprise, not only is Feng Xin wearing a uniform, but he’s also holding a bow.
“I’m on a mission,” Mu Qing says darkly, his entire form tense now—clearly suspicious of the Guide.
Feng Xin grins menacingly. “That tells me otherwise,” he points directly at the watch on Mu Qing’s wrist. “That means you’re suspended from your missions.”
It’s like the entire world tilts but Mu Qing remains exactly where he is. Head pounding, he asks, “What?”
“You’re unstable. The most you’re cleared to do right now is go on patrol,” Feng Xin explains.
“Why the hell wasn’t I told before I came here? Who’s responsible for suspending me?”
Feng Xin looks to the side, playing with the string of his bow gently. Then, clearing his throat, he says, “I am.”
After that, Mu Qing just stares at Feng Xin for a while, unbelieving of the situation. He’d gotten his hopes up for nothing.
“Oh, I see what this,” Mu Qing sneers. “You’re trying to embarrass me. Is that it? You waited all this time to suspend me just so that you could rub it in my face?”
Feng Xin’s gaze snaps to him. “I wasn’t sure if you’d show up. Forgive me for thinking you wouldn’t want to endanger your teammates by going apeshit on them halfway into the mission.”
Mu Qing balks, anger bubbling up in his chest, the monster buried deep within him flashing its teeth at the world. “I would never put my teammates into danger intentionally, you degenerate.”
“And yet you continue to do so,” Feng Xin says tilting his head back and looking down at Mu Qing.
“I can handle myself,” Mu Qing says through clenched teeth, hating everything about the conversation they’re having. Feng Xin was just slightly taller than him, and yet he had the nerve to—
“Your last mission ended abruptly after you rampaged. So did the one before—not to mention the eight other times you lost control of the situation,” Feng Xin reasons. “The company can’t suffer losses and collateral damage every time you go on a mission.”
“So, you have been looking into my files?” Mu Qing asks angrily, not knowing what to do with himself for once. Everything was happening too quickly for his brain to grasp, so he was left chasing after the threads pathetically. Hackles raised defensively; Mu Qing steps closer to the man.
“I’m your Guide,” Feng Xin groans, waving his arm around. “Your health and stability are now my responsibility!”
“Like shit they are!” Mu Qing lashes out, stepping forward and pointing a finger in Feng Xin’s face. “I told you I didn’t want to sign that fucking contract, I was basically forced to!”
Feng Xin swats his hand away. “But you signed it, no?! What do you want me to do? I’ve been trying to introduce myself properly but you’re making this so fucking difficult—”
“Then piss off if I’m making this oh so difficult for you!”
“I’m trying to help you! You’re clearly unstable, and we are compatible— Listen, I can fucking help, alright?”
Mu Qing’s chest heaves as he steps back, his eyes filled with anger. “I can’t fucking do this,” he mutters to himself, turning around and briskly walking back to where he came from. “I’m not doing this. Unbelievable.”
Fuck the mission, fuck everything.
To hell with it all, Mu Qing doesn’t care.
“Where are you going?” Feng Xin calls after him loudly, and Mu Qing practically emits smoke from his ears when he catches up and starts walking beside him. “You know we have to talk. Running from your problems isn’t going to solve them.”
“Talk to the fucking wall.”
“I might as well be right now,” Feng Xin says angrily, grabbing Mu Qing’s wrist and forcing him to a stop.
Of course, Mu Qing being Mu Qing, he tears his arm away from Feng Xin’s hold as if it burned him and glares at the Guide. “Don’t fucking touch me!”
“Can you stop swearing, please? I’m trying to have a civil conversation here!”
“In order to have a conversation, both participants have to be willing—and guess what? I’m not!”
“Just—”
“I’m not listening to you!” Mu Qing snaps, breathing heavily. Feng Xin’s face is flushed from anger too, but he remains silent.
After an awkward moment of staring into one another’s eyes, Mu Qing picks up where he left off and stomps away.
However, his brain doesn’t let him go far. Three steps forward, and he’s already turning around—fuming.
“And what the fuck do you think you’re even doing here?!”
Feng Xin turns around, bewildered. “You’re back for more? What, you ready to talk now?”
Mu Qing gets all up in Feng Xin’s personal space. Jabbing a finger into his chest, Mu Qing exclaims angrily, “First, you show up out of nowhere and cancel my mission—and then you have the nerve to argue with me?!”
“You’re arguing with me!” Feng Xin snaps, not backing away. “I want us to talk!”
“Why! Why the fuck do you want to talk to me so badly!”
“Because we are fucking signed!” Feng Xin roars loudly, attracting the attention of nearly everyone around.
Mu Qing’s chest heaves, eyes wide. When he turns his head, multiple people turn back around as well—resuming their work and ignoring the shouting pair out of awkwardness, acting like they weren’t ogling them like show ponies mere moments before.
“Signed or not fucking signed—” Mu Qing starts and is abruptly caught off guard when someone practically pushes him from behind with the strength of a damn truck, and he goes falling forward.
Obviously, it blindsides both Feng Xin and Mu Qing equally, but Feng Xin somehow manages to stay upright even as Mu Qing crashes into him.
Groaning, Mu Qing steadies himself by grabbing onto Feng Xin’s shoulder instinctively, his head whipping around to see what the fuck just happened—disoriented for a second.
The person who bumped into him, more like hit him with a truck, is already a great distance away—running while shouting something at a group of people.
They probably didn’t see him or had the time to help him upright.
When Mu Qing realizes he’s grabbing Feng Xin and goes to push himself away, irritated, he finds that the strength in his arms is wilting away at an alarming rate—and somehow, his body starts floating, or at least he thinks it does.
A heady feeling transcends upon his body, and he blinks in confusion, staring ahead unseeingly—a screeching sound in his ears drowns out the commotion from the site.
Mu Qing breathes out, his head hanging low as he tries to will the sudden onslaught of exhaustion from his body, not to mention the sudden nausea.
Feng Xin jostles him slightly but quickly realizes that Mu Qing is involuntarily reacting to his presence and gently slaps his face a few times. “Hey, hey. Are you okay?”
Of course, once Mu Qing is not practically glued to Feng Xin, the effect wears off considerably. Groaning, Mu Qing turns his head away from the Guides unbearable touch—suddenly enraged.
“What the fuck?” He rasps angrily. “What do you think you’re doing?”
Feng Xin frowns, spluttering. “I am not doing anything. You crashed into me!”
Mu Qing’s head spins violently for a second, and he holds a palm to his temple—his eyes shut tightly to prevent his vision from spinning again. “You better stay the fuck away from me.”
He stays rooted in place for a second before forcing his eyes open and then dragging his body away, ignoring Feng Xin’s indignant yapping with grace.
It’s a challenge, getting himself back to his dorm. All the excitement from the anticipated mission had suddenly melted away, leaving a bone deep disappointment in Mu Qing’s bones.
Admitting to himself, in his head, that he couldn’t go on like this was easy—but being told so by numerous strangers was humiliating beyond belief.
So, what if Mu Qing was in denial? It wasn’t their business, now was it?
With a cocktail of nausea and humiliation swirling in his stomach, Mu Qing closes his eyes.
Weeks later, as Mu Qing is returning from a casual round of patrol, he painstakingly decides to admit that yes, perhaps he might need help. But only a little, to get him back on his feet at least.
His body feels worn down, as if he’s been subjected to multiple hours of torture and then forced to run a marathon. In addition, two dark, heavy eyebags rest beneath his eyes—making Mu Qing seem incredibly sick and unsightly.
One would think that a long break from actual missions would make someone feel more relaxed and joyous, but no.
People don’t dare to approach him on his better days—courtesy of the wonderful scowl Mu Qing is sporting all the time—but lately, nobody seemed to even spare a glance in his direction.
Mu Qing can’t really be mad—because of his constant exhaustion and lack of treatment to his disturbed energy flow, it’s been taking both a mental and physical toll on him, and it obviously affects his mood negatively.
Not only was he more prone to lashing out in anger, panicking over small issues and resorting to self-harm in the form of denying himself proper food—but he was also getting sick more often.
Measly patrols were nothing compared to real, difficult missions—and deep down, Mu Qing yearned for the stretch of his muscles, for the injuries he’d receive while fighting.
They weren’t ‘defeat’ to Mu Qing, nor were they ‘mistakes’. He loved seeing the aftermath of a particularly hard fight on his body, relished in it.
Being reduced to just sitting around had Mu Qing fuming.
With a scowl, Mu Qing blows his nose into a tissue aggressively, groaning slightly. The elevator whirrs to life, ascending rapidly to the eighteenth floor on which his dorm lay.
Sometimes, he really, really missed his home that no longer resembled an actual home anymore.
Neither his sister nor mother were with him anymore, and thus, his house now remained empty—filled with dust and lonesome insects roaming around mindlessly, waiting for their next prey.
Fully intending to shut himself inside his dorm, Mu Qing taps his foot impatiently, his gaze almost frosty as he glares at the metal doors in front of him.
Thankfully, nobody was around at this time of day—only Mu Qing, whose condition was worsening every day, could be found walking out of the elevator and along the corridor.
With no one around to witness it, he allows himself a moment of weakness, placing his palm on the wall and supporting his body through the pain that accompanied the simple task of walking.
His legs felt like jelly, his brain like mush, and his skin like scorching glaze dripping over soft flesh. His head spun like he was a deranged madman in the middle of an episode.
Gritting his teeth, Mu Qing forces his way forward, holding onto the wall for dear life. Fuck, why was he struggling so much? How could his energy be affecting him this much?
Suddenly, steps echo from behind him. Mu Qing’s dazed and pained expression cures in an instant, almost as if he sobered up miraculously. He’s convinced that, if he could just lie or sit down, both his mood and body would stop shooting at his soul.
Mu Qing stops in his tracks, waiting for the person to pass him so that he can continue his pitiful walk in peace—or vertical crawl, if you will.
Mu Qing’s skin burns, possibly from a fever, as he waits for the person to pass him—but for some reason, the sounds cease, plunging the hallway into an awkward silence.
Had they entered a room? But Mu Qing didn’t hear anything.
Irritated, Mu Qing glances over his shoulder—and his expression turns grim when he sees just who is watching him with crossed arms, standing not even five feet away.
“Good afternoon,” Feng Xin greets, unimpressed with the withering stare Mu Qing has directed at him.
Ashen faced, Mu Qing turns back around, muttering quietly, “Fucking hell.”
“What’s wrong? Are you feeling ill? Happy to see me?”
Mu Qing inhales deeply and resumes his walk—this time without the help of the wall. It’s a challenge, but Mu Qing is a proud man—lacking weakness and the ability to admit defeat.
Walking upright while ignoring all of his body’s alarms, Mu Qing scoffs with a menacing grin. “As if.”
Of course, that’s when breathing starts feeling like a chore. Suppressing his pain even furthers, Mu Qing simply keeps walking—consequences be damned.
“Don’t ignore me,” Feng Xin keeps pestering. “Mu Qing.”
He endures it for another ten feet before his legs buckle and he crashes against the wall. Mu Qing’s eyes redden from the embarrassment, his shoulder burning in pain from the impact.
Feng Xin rushes forward, grabbing him by the upper arms and pulling him upright once more.
Clenching his jaw, Mu Qing pushes the Guide away aggressively. “I told you that it’s Esper Mu to you,” he corrects darkly. “Fuck off, now.”
Not being able to take Mu Qing’s request—or vulgar demand—to heart, Feng Xin frowns and follows closely behind Mu Qing. “You’re unstable.”
“No shit,” Mu Qing sneers, but then his eyes widen, regretting opening his mouth immediately afterwards. Pressing his eyes shut, he leans against the wall again—this time with his back pressed up against it.
“So, you admit it,” Feng Xin comes to a stop before him, face both smug and angry at the same time somehow.
Mu Qing really wishes he didn’t. It just slipped out. He fixes Feng Xin with a cold glare. “What do you want from me?”
“I want to help you,” is Feng Xin’s immediate response. Mu Qing stares at him for a few moments, allowing his eyes to roam over the Guide’s body with detest.
Feng Xin stands ramrod straight, unlike Mu Qing who likes to stand with his hand on his hip, slightly slouched sometimes. With his hands balled together in front of his crotch, Feng Xin looks like a loyal dog awaiting orders from his master.
Head falling back against the wall, Mu Qing sighs incredibly loudly before rummaging around in his pocket. Feng Xin watches him intently.
Then, Mu Qing pulls out a keycard and presses it into the man’s chest until he takes it between his fingers. “I don’t need your worthless help, but if you’re so eager for something to do—go ahead and open my door.”
Feng Xin looks between Mu Qing and the card multiple times, then, with confusion he begins, “Which—”
“219,” Mu Qing interrupts, already pushing himself away from the savior-wall. Walking painstakingly slowly, Mu Qing regrets ever choosing his dorm over his house. Or even a hotel.
Had he simply crashed someplace else, he wouldn’t have run into Feng Xin, and—
Again, Mu Qing’s head spins—he doesn’t even register his knees finally giving out and sending his body falling forward, but this time, Feng Xin grabs him firmly and actually holds him, avoiding Mu Qing’s flailing hands almost skillfully.
“Let go!” Mu Qing rages, his voice incredibly strained, and tries to struggle out of Feng Xin’s grasp while attempting to remain upright on his own.
He snaps out of his momentary stupor immediately.
“You’re literally struggling to walk!” Feng Xin says loudly, trying to keep Mu Qing from giving himself a concussion.
However, in the Guide’s arms, Mu Qing loses his ferocity quickly—his energy smothered by Feng Xin’s sudden closeness, like snow being poured over a fire. Slumping, Mu Qing realizes that he can’t do much but accept the help.
“Why are you always.. using your stupid..en—” Mu Qing trails off, vision blurry once more. With red eyes, Mu Qing tightly holds onto Feng Xin’s arm—angry with himself.
Feng Xin hisses from the sudden onslaught of pain but doesn’t try to squirm away from the unpleasant sensation of finger digging into his flesh.
But then, Mu Qing chooses that exact moment to lose consciousness for another few seconds, which just leads to Feng Xin scrambling to catch his dead weight.
In the end, Feng Xin simply drags him to his door and unlocks it.
When Mu Qing comes to, they’re still upright, but this time, both of Feng Xin’s arms are wrapped around him—and they’re still in the hallway.
“I’m not using my fucking energy,” Feng Xin spits once he feels Mu Qing stir. “You’re just fucked up enough to react to me regardless of whether I use my ability or not.”
Mu Qing blinks sluggishly, then frowns at their surroundings. Not only were Feng Xin’s words stroking his irritation into a raging inferno, but his head was aching even more now.
“Fuck— Inside,” he grits out once he regains his bearings fully. “The fuck are you standing around here for? Waiting for people to see us?”
The accusations fly right over Feng Xin’s head as he fumbles with the keycard. “We’re only here because you passed out.”
“Fuck you! Get your hands—”
They struggle for a moment, entangled limbs flailing—but then the door opens, and all of a sudden, they’re no longer standing.
Mu Qing slams against the now open door face first, and Feng Xin goes flying to the floor. They groan in unison, a loud crash ringing throughout the hallway.
“Fuck..” Mu Qing blinks, his body burning even hotter despite usually running cold. “This is your fault.. fuck!”
Feng Xin scrambles off the floor and goes to assist Mu Qing, who is swaying. Mu Qing, however, slaps his hand away. “Don’t touch me!”
“You—”
Mu Qing uses all of his strength to push Feng Xin out, slamming the door shut in his face. The light shining in from the hallway disappears as well, dunking the entry hall of his dorm into a suffocating silence.
However, a moment later, the door beeps—and swings open. Mu Qing’s eyes widen, and he tries to press it shut. However, a hand wrenches itself between the door and the frame, preventing Mu Qing from closing it entirely.
“Give me my fucking card back!” Mu Qing shouts, struggling to keep pushing through the bone deep exhaustion, the sudden headache. His grip falters in the chaos.
“If you’d fucking listen to me—!” Feng Xin shouts back, swearing as the door undoubtedly crushes his hand. Despite being weakened, Mu Qing is still an Esper—one of high caliber.
The rims of Mu Qing’s eyes redden, and he steps away, breathing heavily. Feng Xin, who was putting all of his weight into pushing the door open, stumbles inside from the sudden lack of resistance.
Mu Qing walks backwards, moving further into his dorm—and slams a hand on the light switch. It only light the entryway up, but it’s enough to have a face-to-face conversation.
“What the fuck are you trying to do?” Mu Qing seethes, standing with a hand rested on the wall.
Feng Xin straightens up and clears his throat, saying gruffly, “I was trying to help.”
“Didn’t I tell you to fuck off? What, you’re gonna force your ‘help’ onto people who aren’t asking you for it? You just forced yourself into my place!”
Mu Qing feels ridiculous, arguing with someone like Feng Xin—with his Guide, of all people. He thought that, if he was rude enough, Feng Xin would take the hint and fuck off—cancel the contract.
If Mu Qing put in a request to step away from it, he would likely be denied. Only in extreme cases—if a physical fight broke out, assault was practiced—would he be allowed to step away, but even then, he would be forced into yet another contract with another Guide.
Try it again and again until he finally got a suitable Guide. He had no other choice—he was a mere asset to the company, an immensely strong one—they couldn’t afford to lose him.
The ball really was not in Mu Qing’s court this time. Tiredly, he turns around. “Fuck, do whatever you want. Just stay away from me.”
He walks to his couch after kicking off his boots, not bothering to turn the light on—and plops down on it heavily, practically melting into the cushions. He hears awkward shuffling for a few moments and mentally declares that Feng Xin probably opted to leave.
However, a moment later, the cushions on the far end of the couch dip, and Mu Qing cracks an eye open—unbelieving.
“Still here? What, you want a treat from me? Are you a dog?” Mu Qing asks, irritated beyond belief. At the sight of Feng Xin, red faced, sitting there awkwardly, a strange emotion finds its way into Mu Qing’s heart.
He mistakes it for instinctive aggression.
Feng Xin sits upright, clearly uncomfortable. “Let’s talk, alright? Please?”
With a loud intentional sigh, Mu Qing turns his head to the Guide fully and takes his expression in. Smothering the near irresistible need to throw another glass at the Guide, Mu Qing chews on his lip.
Yes, he really was making this difficult for Feng Xin, but he didn’t—
“Talk,” Mu Qing says instead of ‘go to hell’.
Feng Xin looks like a deer caught in the headlights at the word, but he quickly sobers up.
“Let me help you.”
“Why?”
“You’re unstable.”
“I am. And?”
“You need me.”
“I need my sedatives.”
“No, you need me, your Guide. Your sedatives don’t work anymore.”
“Sedatives.”
“Me.”
“Sedatives.”
“Me.”
“Out,” Mu Qing hisses. He lifts an arm painstakingly and points it at the entryway. “Door. There, go.”
“We need to get to know each other,” Feng Xin says, running a hand over his face. “I’m not forcing Guidance on you. It’s your decision, in the end.”
“Good,” Mu Qing muses, expression dark. “This is the end then. And I say no. Surprise!”
“I’m going to be on your ass until you decide to get to know me, I think you know that. Not as a Guide, but as a person,” Feng Xin leans back, “I have to try.”
“You actually don’t,” Mu Qing corrects. “You already have my answer.”
“Listen. If I were an Esper, I also wouldn’t jump into Guidance with a stranger—so at least get to know me before you make your decision.”
“It doesn’t seem like you’re not forcing Guidance on me,” Mu Qing deadpans. “Your ignorance is awfully annoying. And I already said that I’d made my decision. Now get out.”
Feng Xin throws his head back in irritation. With a grounding inhale, Feng Xin says, “You can’t kick me out.”
“Like hell I can’t,” Mu Qing guffaws. “Why can’t I?”
“Because,” Feng Xin fixes him with a tired glare. “You know it’s stupid. Not only have you not been on a mission in weeks, but you’re also in an incredibly poor condition. We both saw you struggling to get to your dorm just a few minutes ago.”
Mu Qing wants to lash out. Anger rises in Mu Qing’s blood like bubbles, popping all of its negative energy into his bloodstream and fueling his brain with vile, unnecessarily violent thoughts.
He doesn’t express most of it, but he can’t help himself but say, “Fuck you.”
In a moment of fury, Mu Qing stands abruptly, walking to Feng Xin and grabbing him by his collar. Feng Xin grunts in surprise as he’s hauled off the couch and dragged to the door.
“You will not come into my fucking place and talk to me like that,” Mu Qing grits out despite his lungs burning and causing him pain.
Feng Xin stumbles after him, not making any moves to prevent his current predicament. Instead, he scoffs, “You’re angry because you know it’s true. You think I don’t notice your dilated pupils and shaky hands?”
Mu Qing clenches his jaw, throwing Feng Xin against the wall. Feng Xin goes without complaint, his head thudding back against the harsh surface loudly.
In truth, the moment of anger wasn’t enough to keep the strength in Mu Qing’s arms, and so he was forced to resort to slamming Feng Xin up against a wall.
“Do you even know what kind of dangerous game you’re playing here? What can happen to you, if you ignore the symptoms?” Feng Xin asks; his voice urgent.
Mu Qing’s emotions were like a whirlwind of destruction in his mind, his body an unfamiliar, weak vessel—he wasn’t himself anymore.
Leaning back, Mu Qing starts fumbling with the pouch on his belt desperately—his breath shaky. Tipping four pills onto his palm, he is about to swallow them dry when a hand lands on his wrist heavily.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Feng Xin asks; eyes wide. “The most you’re allowed is two pills— have you been taking more?”
His voice takes on a shocked tone at the end, his face fallen. Mu Qing stares up at him with wide eyes before trying to wrench his wrist free, once more furious at the fact that Feng Xin does in fact has his fucking data.
“How do you even.. fuck, that’s none of your—”
Feng Xin yanks him back, causing the pills to scatter on the floor.
“You’re not allowed sedatives anymore because your body can’t handle it!” Feng Xin shouts as If trying to drill the fact into his head, now grabbing Mu Qing’s other wrist when he tries to struggle free. “Everybody can fall, even you!”
Mu Qing rages, face twisted into a grimace. “Fuck, do you have some kind of savior complex?! I swear to God, if you don’t let go of me right now—!”
“How couldn’t I see it? I was thinking you were getting worse on your own, but in truth, you were taking this shit like they’re gummies—! ”
A warmth, nearly scalding, spreads from Mu Qing’s wrist to his forearms alarmingly quickly—and his face goes slack. With his vision suddenly blurred, Mu Qing draws his brows together, blinking.
Feng Xin curses, letting go immediately. “Fuck— I didn’t mean to do that,” he explains quickly.
Mu Qing sways for a second, his stomach twisting into a knot—nauseous. The feeling lasts for a few moments before dissipating. “Fuck..” he mumbles, grabbing Feng Xin’s jacket and twisting his fingers into the fabric.
With the other hand on his mouth, Mu Qing glares at the Guide—his gaze frosty despite his rising temperature. He didn’t like that Feng Xin’s energy had such an effect on him, that it managed to smother his fury into a few glowing embers so quickly.
Clenching his jaw, Mu Qing pulls Feng Xin closer and then—with their faces so dangerously close to one another— “You want to fucking help? Is that it?” he asks, nearly coming across as deranged.
Feng Xin gulps visibly, eyes wide. Then, silently, he nods—determined.
Mu Qing’s hand falls away from his mouth, and he nods too—mocking Feng Xin with a dark and dazed expression. “So, guide me, won’t you? Guide me to hell and back, you bastard.”
With that, he yanks Feng Xin forward by his jacket, forcing him to stumble back into the living room. Being forced to sit on the couch, Feng Xin looks up at Mu Qing with shock, not grasping the sudden 180 turn the situation took.
“You think I’m going insane, don’t you? Someone doesn’t want to accept help and it’s the end of the world,” he laughs. “Fucking alright, then!”
Mu Qing stalks forward with strained breath, but Feng Xin straightens up. “Mu Qing, let’s talk first—”
“Talk? Why talk?” Mu Qing scoffs, throwing himself on the cushion next to Feng Xin and facing him. “Just guide me, hm? It’s what you’ve been trying to do this whole time. Here, I’ll even help you!”
In his enraged state, Mu Qing doesn’t recognize the amount of red flags blaring siren sounds from Feng Xin’s expression, which is growing grimmer by the second.
Mu Qing goes to shrug his jacket off, and just as he is about to tug his shirt from his pants with trembling fingers, a hand falls on his wrist, stopping him.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Feng Xin asks angrily, face red beyond comprehension.
A surge of irritation rises in Mu Qing, and he slaps Feng Xin’s hand away viciously. What was he acting like a saint for, now? “Helping you guide me,” Mu Qing says bitterly. “What? Don’t want to anymore? Am I not good enough, now?”
“No—I mean, why are you undre—”
“You’ve been trying to get into my pants this whole time! Why are you acting like a maiden now! Just go ahead and fuck me!” Mu Qing yells, interrupting Feng Xin mid-sentence—who just stares at him, baffled.
It’s then that Mu Qing realizes that something isn’t right. He stops unbuttoning his shirt and stares at Feng Xin, his chest heaving from the little outburst.
“First of all,” Feng Xin grits out, embarrassed. “I’m not trying to f… fu— to get into your pants...!”
He forcefully pulls Mu Qing’s shirt back together, not looking at Mu Qing while he works diligently to button it back up.
“Second of all, I’ve been trying to have a normal conversation with you—to avoid miscommunication like this, you absolute dickhead!”
Mu Qing stares at him, his jaw slack. His irritation and frustration melt under the embarrassment of understanding that he might have gone a tad bit far with his assumptions—and his ears start burning at an alarming rate.
Maybe his fever is spiking again, from the shock. Or maybe he was trying to make himself feel better.
“You—asshole, get your hands off of me!” Mu Qing jumps back, landing haphazardly on the other side of the couch. He straightens up quickly and points a finger at the Guide.
“You’ve been acting all fucking weird—talking about wanting to h—help me!”
Mu Qing stutters when he’s nervous—and it gets even worse when he’s ashamed. It’s like the words clog his throat up like tar, and he struggles to get anything out properly.
And now, Feng Xin jumps off the couch and runs both of his hands through his hair. After sighing a couple times, he spins around and faces Mu Qing .
“What do you think Guidance is?!” He then asks indignantly, gesturing around himself.
Mu Qing balks, eyebrows furrowing. “Are you seriously asking me that?!”
“Guidance—” Feng Xin starts, rubbing his eyes in frustration. “I can see why you would think.. that, because Guidance is strictly based on physical touch—but!”
He raises his voice when he sees that Mu Qing is trying to get a word in, which makes the Esper back down with a glare.
“Nobody—and I mean nobody,” Feng Xin clarifies, enunciating the words one by one. “Nobody goes into stuff like that without speaking first. Plus, s—sexual intimacy doesn’t even have to be involved! It’s different for everyone! A normal—”
Mu Qing listens as Feng Xin rambles on and on until his face becomes even redder from a lack of oxygen.
“So—to clarify, no, I was not trying to fuck you!” Feng Xin pants, a finger pointed into Mu Qing’s face.
“You came across as some prick who can’t take no for an answer!” Mu Qing exclaims, still glaring with his arms crossed in front of his chest. “I thought—"
“Do you think I wanted to chase you around like a dog?” Feng Xin asks flatly, dropping down on the couch heavily. Without looking at Mu Qing, he continues. “I didn’t even know who I was supposed to be the partner of when they told me I was chosen to become some Esper pricks Guide.”
“Then why did you even come to meet me?” Mu Qing asks bitterly, already feeling defensive.
Feng Xin sighs, sparing a glance at Mu Qing. “They said you were in a dire state. Energy destabilization. I know what that meant; a slow death. I wanted to help, then. I was skeptical at first, but soon, our results came in and we were incredibly compatible with one another.”
Mu Qing actually has not one single idea of their compatibility rate, or any of their other scores. After going through such huge emotional fluctuations, Mu Qing finally allows his body to sink into the cushions.
Instead, he mutters, “Savior complex,” silently, with so much disdain dripping from the words he could have chocked on them.
“So, when I met you and saw how.. well, how bad your state actually was, I couldn’t help but try and convince you.”
“Try and convince me by getting into arguments with me?” Mu Qing deadpans.
“You started it half the time,” Feng Xin points out.
That isn’t entirely wrong. For the first time, Mu Qing actually takes in Feng Xin’s points.
“What’s our compatibility rate, then?” Mu Qing asks, defeated. He doesn’t understand what’s happening to him, his body and mind; the least he can do is give Feng Xin a chance to speak.
“Ninety-four percent,” Feng Xin says, rubbing his hands over his face. Mu Qing freezes, then turns his head to stare at the Guide.
Feng Xin muffles a laugh behind his hand. “It’s rare, huh?”
“Tell me about it,” Mu Qing frowns, straightening up with a grunt. “No kidding?”
“Now why would I joke about that?” Feng Xin sighs, face impassive.
In the embarrassing silence that follows, neither Mu Qing nor Feng Xin know what to say. However, Mu Qing absolutely cannot endure another moment of his body screaming at him to sleep and his mind screaming at him for bringing shame to his name by a mere assumption.
Therefore, he speaks. “You should go now.”
Feng Xin remains quiet for just a few more moments before getting up abruptly. “All right. You should go to the infirmary. I can—”
“No, thanks. I’ll call you,” Mu Qing interrupts, his voice strained. His ego was taking a huge blow, because after refusing to speak to the Guide for so long, he now...
“Right,” Feng Xin blinks. “Right, okay. Bye then. Oh, your keycard.”
Mu Qing doesn’t react when he places the card on the couch neatly—neither does he react when the door finally falls shut behind Feng Xin.