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Published:
2023-10-16
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if there’s no way forward, go back

Summary:

“I’m sorry,” he said, to Cheng Xiaoshi and Qiao Ling both. “I’m a hypocrite, I know. I’m weak. I shouldn’t be doing this, I know that…but I can’t let go of you, Cheng Xiaoshi.”

Please, forgive me.

He knew that Cheng Xiaoshi wouldn’t forgive him for it. It didn’t matter; he’d never allow him to find out.

Lu Guang clapped his hands together, a parody of prayer, and

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Work Text:

The first time, Lu Guang tried.

 

He went with Qiao Ling to the funeral. He tried to be there for her in the weeks after when she was there for him. He kept the shop running on his own. 

 

The funeral was a pitiful affair. The only attendants were Lu Guang, Qiao Ling, Xu Shanshan, and Dong Yi. It wasn’t like Lu Guang had been expecting anyone else, and yet.

 

Of course his parents couldn’t be bothered to show up, even now, he thought bitterly.

 

In the weeks after, conversation fell flat between him and Qiao Ling. They had always been good friends, despite both of them being closer to their mutual friend than to each other; and that was the problem. Their missing friend was still there, lingering in the space between them, and they couldn’t forget his presence—not that either of them tried.



 

 

<——§——>

 

 

 

Two months after, Qiao Ling’s father asked him, “Why are you still here?”

 

Lu Guang stared at him, unable to understand—it sounded to him as if the man was asking why are you still here, alive, when he is not . He knew that couldn’t be what was meant. And yet, he was struck by the truth of that unsaid statement.

 

“You don’t need to keep running this shop,” Qiao Ling’s father elaborated. He shook his head. “Without hiring another person, you’d be hard-pressed to keep this place in business…you’re a bright young man, Lu Guang. If you can move past this, there’s still a future ahead of you.”

 

A future ahead of him, if he could only move on.

 

“I am staying here,” he replied stiffly. It was an effort to prevent himself from saying more. Qiao Ling’s father meant well. He didn’t deserve Lu Guang’s misplaced rage.



 

 

<——§——>

 

 

 

Five months after, he had the last conversation he would ever have with his Qiao Ling; not that he knew it at the time.

 

“You’ve lost weight,” she remarked, frowning. “He always cooked for the two of you, didn’t he? Don’t tell me you’ve been living off takeout.”

 

As if he could order food for himself alone—he’d only tried once, and it had felt so wrong that he hadn’t done it again. Some nights, he couldn’t even eat. The kitchen was too empty with one person; at least in their bedroom he could lie in the dark and pretend his friend was already sleeping.

 

“No,” he replied. “Instant noodles.”

 

What did any of it matter? How could Qiao Ling find it inside her to care what he was eating, how much he was eating, if he was doing okay? He could barely find it in himself to ask how she was doing, nowadays. 

 

Most likely that made him a terrible friend. He didn’t feel guilty about it, though. He didn’t feel anything, for the most part. There was a space inside him, hollowed-out; all that remained were faint echoes of emotion.

 

He hadn’t felt real since that day.

 

“Qiao Ling,” he said, reaching for something solid to hold. “I—you miss him, too. He was your family.” You loved him too. “How do you…keep moving forward?”

 

Qiao Ling was stronger than him. Though she was damaged, unlike him, she was still whole. He knew they were inherently different, but maybe she could still tell him how to keep living.

 

Her eyes softened with sympathy, and he looked down to avoid drowning in it. “Oh, Lu Guang…it’s hard. Some days I wake up and it hits me and I can barely get out of bed. Some days I wish I could trade my life for his. More than anyone else, he didn’t deserve—”

 

Every day, he wished that it was him who’d died instead.

 

Lu Guang could hear her sniffling. Silently, he passed her a tissue.

 

“Thank you,” she said thickly. “It’s…yeah. As you can see, I’m still not doing very well.” He heard her take a deep, fortifying breath. “But the important thing is, I’m trying. Every day I get out of bed and I try to live, and even find moments of joy in my day. I know that he’d want me to be happy, even now…and honestly, it feels impossible, many days. Maybe I’ll never be happy again in the same way, and maybe you won’t either…but we have to try, Lu Guang. For him, and for ourselves.”

 

He knew that she was right. Qiao Ling had known his friend for so many years, had grown up with him, was his sister in everything but blood. She knew him better than Lu Guang, most likely. Of course he would want them to move on, to keep living.

 

Lu Guang needed to keep trying. He just had to swallow down this bitter weakness and pretend it wasn’t killing him slowly.



 

 

<——§——>

 

 

 

Five months, one week, and four days after; he gave up on trying.

 

There was nothing special about that day. It was like any other in mid-February. Cold, miserable, dull—the sort of day that made him regret ever leaving his bed, or even being born at all.

 

He felt that way most days, lately, but this time of year really embodied that.

 

On that day, Lu Guang made the mistake of swiping too far to the left on his phone, which revealed a widget he avoided looking at whenever possible. He’d tapped on it before conscious thought, and it opened into a picture: one year ago today.

 

Cheng Xiaoshi grinned at him through time, his smile almost as bright as the snow all around him. With one finger, he poked at a snowman he’d made. Lu Guang could hear his voice so clearly.

 

Lu Guang, look, it’s you! An evil witch turned you to snow!

 

The snowman didn’t look much like him, in his opinion.

 

He totally looks like you, look at his scowl!

 

If you say so. Am I stuck as a snowman forever, then?

 

Let’s see—

 

Cheng Xiaoshi kissed the snowman, which caused part of its face to fall off. It didn’t magically turn into a human, but Cheng Xiaoshi did complain about his face being cold now. Lu Guang didn’t have any sympathy for him; what had he been expecting?

 

Don’t shove your face in snow, fool—do you want to get sick?

 

Fortunately, he hadn’t, though they’d returned home soon after, as both of them were starting to get cold. Cheng Xiaoshi had made them hot chocolate, and they’d both fallen asleep on the couch.

 

Drops of water accumulated on his screen. They distorted the photo, turning it pixelated and strange. His eyes burned.

 

He was…crying.

 

Lu Guang couldn’t seem to stop. Equally, he couldn’t set his phone down, couldn’t stop looking at the wavering image. Cheng Xiaoshi was smiling. He was alive and happy in the image, in the photo, in the past.

 

Cheng Xiaoshi was still alive in the past.

 

Cheng Xiaoshi was still alive .

 

Alive, yet unreachable—except he wasn’t unreachable, not to Lu Guang. 

 

He was perhaps the one person alive who could go back to that time. He hadn’t yet tried to use Cheng Xiaoshi’s ability, had shoved it far back into the recesses of his mind. It didn’t belong to him, he had no right—or so he’d told himself, when the possibility had whispered in the back of his mind late at night.

 

He didn’t care anymore. He couldn’t care anymore.

 

A switch had flipped, and he couldn’t even comprehend why he had cared before, why he had tried so hard to keep living this empty life.

 

Lu Guang couldn’t pretend anymore. He had only two options; he could quietly go off somewhere and kill himself, or he could dive back in time to where Cheng Xiaoshi was still alive. 

 

He’d still be dead . 

 

“ I don’t care! ” Lu Guang yelled, his voice raw and grating in the too-quiet room. All around him were Cheng Xiaoshi’s things that he couldn’t bear to get rid of, cluttering up the space, slowly accumulating dust.

 

Lu Guang couldn’t lie to himself any longer—he would never be able to get rid of the stuff, and this pain would never lessen for as long as he lived. 



Something had to give.

 

You can’t save him. The death node can’t be changed. Going back will only delay his inevitable fate. He is gone. He’s gone, he’s gone, there’s nothing you can do. 

 

Lu Guang didn’t fucking care. Fuck his so-called common sense, and fuck fate, and fuck death itself for taking Cheng Xiaoshi from him.

 

“I’m sorry,” he said, to Cheng Xiaoshi and Qiao Ling both. “I’m a hypocrite, I know. I’m weak. I shouldn’t be doing this, I know that…but I can’t let go of you, Cheng Xiaoshi.”

 

Please, forgive me.

 

He knew that Cheng Xiaoshi wouldn’t forgive him for it. It didn’t matter; he’d never allow him to find out.

 

Lu Guang clapped his hands together, a parody of prayer, and




 

<——§——>

 

 

 

“Lu Guang, look, it’s you! An evil witch turned you to snow!”

 

He stared at Cheng Xiaoshi from the photo, now real, past turned present. The moment felt fragile; he didn’t want to blink. Cheng Xiaoshi could be gone that quickly. He’d seen it happen.

 

“Lu Guang?”

 

His eyes burned, forcing him to blink. When he opened them, Cheng Xiaoshi was still there, gazing at him with a confused expression. 

 

“Are you okay?” He asked. “You look…weird.”

 

Lu Guang had to get it together. He breathed in slowly, and out again, watching as his breath billowed in a frozen cloud. It was still February, still too damn cold—but everything was different now.

 

“I’m fine,” he lied. “Just a little cold.”

 

Cheng Xiaoshi smiled at his response, abandoning his snowman to come over and sling an arm over Lu Guang’s shoulder. His arm was comfortably solid and warm—real, not yet a memory.

 

“Let’s go home,” Cheng Xiaoshi said.

 

Lu Guang closed his eyes, and let himself pretend that home was still a place and a person he was allowed to have. 

 

“Yeah.”



Notes:

Ah. Sorry about this…the first line came to me and then I sat down and wrote most of this in one sitting. This is how I cope.

Thank you for reading, and I’d love to hear your thoughts! Even if they’re just “why did you write this”.