Chapter Text
Xie Lian stares at his laptop screen and the handsome young man stares back. At least, that's what it feels like.
That piercing eye underneath a fringe of jet-black hair. The smirk that shifts into a grin and sometimes explodes into laughter. That smooth, seductive voice; sometimes sharp, sometimes teasing, but always warm.
Xie Lian is mesmerised.
He's never been much interested in video games, he doesn't really care for the controllers or the graphics or the plot lines. But when Shi Qingxuan sent him a link and told him there was a 24-hour charity stream for the queer support organisation they work for, and if Xie Lian was just going to mope around at the apartment, he could at least feel like he was doing something with his time, he knew they were right.
“Plus,” Shi Qingxuan had added with a smiley face blowing a kiss, “the guy is suuuper hot”.
Xie Lian tells himself that he’s only watching the stream because it’s helping out an organisation that once helped him.
The streamer — going by the screen name Crimson Rain — has already been going for a solid ten hours. Xie Lian has been there for most of them. Along with the thousands of other viewers who have been dropping in and out, they've visited a handful of different games, mostly by queer indie creators. Xie Lian is actually having fun.
Listening to Crimson Rain joke around with his audience, watching him quip back at the games while completing every task and challenge with ease — it all feels very much like hanging out with a friend. And Xie Lian is in desperate need of company.
On the split screen, Crimson Rain’s heart-shattering face splits into a grimace. His player character is trying to romance a love interest and desperately failing. The flailing flirting is almost painful to watch, but the ease with which Crimson Rain moves through the dialogue options to try to save the situation is endearing.
He pouts after his third pick-up line fails. “That was a great line,” he comments. “I don’t know why that didn’t work, it definitely would have worked on me.” He spins the in-game camera around to show the front of his player character. “Am I not handsome enough, maybe? Am I the problem?” His player character looks just like him — black hair, long limbs, sharp profile — but is missing the striking edge the real appearance has.
Crimson Rain stares directly into his web camera. “What do you think, chat? ” He lifts an eyebrow, and it’s dangerous, so dangerous, how hard that makes Xie Lian’s stomach swoop.
Crimson Rain asks: “Would you have fallen for that? For me?” his voice turning deep and silky, and Xie Lian is struggling to hold back a “yes, definitely” when he hears keys at the door. He barely has time to mute the stream, let alone to process that he's spent the whole day watching it before Shi Qingxuan slams the door open and their voice rings through the apartment. “I’m home, bestie!”
Charging into the living room, a whirlwind of movement, they drop their bag on the floor. They moan as they flop onto the sofa, ending up halfway on top of Xie Lian, an arm draped across their forehead. Xie Lian can only lift his laptop before a head lands in its place. “Ugh, what a day,” Shi Qingxuan sighs and Xie Lian can't help but smile. They do this every day, no matter how hard Shi Qingxuan’s day has actually been. Xie Lian has to admit he's fond of his friend's dramatic flair.
He gently puts his laptop on the coffee table and starts running his fingers through Shi Qingxuan’s long hair, separating the silky tresses. “I’m so sorry it was hard,” he says, playing along. “Tell me all about it.”
“Oh, Lianlian, you're so good to me,” they sigh. “The heavens will reward you.” Xie Lian snorts, playing with the tufts of their hair, letting them curl and fold between his fingertips. Shi Qingxuan happily nestles further into his lap. They smell like ginger and a little bit of sweat — even their flowy silk outfits can’t save them from the heat of the summer. And then, just as soon as they've settled in, they're moving again; grabbing Xie Lian’s hand. They stare up at him intently, their green eyes meeting Xie Lian’s golden brown.
“Have you been sitting here the whole day?” they ask, voice and face both stern. “Did you eat? Have you taken your meds?”
Every previous day they've done this, Xie Lian has shrunk back in shame, having completely forgotten even the most basic self-care. But today, he nods, slowly. “I actually did,” he says. “I was watching the stream you sent me–” He gestures towards the laptop screen, where Crimson Rain's face is still talking and the game is still playing, framed by a graphic of silver butterflies. “–and, well, he kept taking breaks to get food and water, so I did too.” He rubs the back of his neck, feeling a small flush spread across his cheeks. “I even did some stretching,” he admits. “So I haven’t sat here the whole day, I promise.”
Maybe it’s weird that something as simple as this could affect him this much, but somehow, Xie Lian is feeling better than he has in a long while. How wild that someone he doesn’t even know could make him feel this motivated. How strange that a man on a screen could make him remember to care for himself. Xie Lian doesn’t know if he should laugh or cry. But for the first time in, well, years, he’s feeling something, deep in his heart, something hopeful and tender. He might be okay.
Shi Qingxuan cocks their head, a sombre expression on their face. They touch Xie Lian’s cheek, then his forehead, then his neck. Their hands are cool and soft against his warm skin, and Xie Lian relishes in the gesture. The past three years he’s been starving for physical affection, and he will forever be grateful that Shi Qingxuan’s main love language is touch.
“Wow,” they say in the end, a cheeky smile playing on their lips. “No fever, so you’re not delirious.” They look at the laptop screen and back up at Xie Lian’s flushed face. Their eyes narrow. “You’re really… feeling better?” they ask, but the question is more a statement of fact, and, when Xie Lian nods, they click their tongue against the roof of their mouth, clearly considering something.
Xie Lian doesn’t know what they’re thinking, and he doesn't dare ask. When Shi Qingxuan looks like this, they usually end up dragging him into some mischievous, albeit well-meaning scheme, and he can’t help but be nervous about what the outcome will be this time.
He doesn’t have to wait long. Shi Qingxuan slaps their thighs as they stand up, their loose-fitted periwinkle shirt billowing. “Come on, then,” they say, pulling Xie Lian up with them. “We have places to be.”
When Xie Lian left Edmonton three years ago, he never thought he’d be back. He’d assumed that the bridge was burnt and the door forever closed. Instead, he’d settled into a vague semblance of a life in Nanton, working part-time at an antique shop and part-time as a freelance writer, living in a motorhome at the edge of the small town. At first, he had been so angry over all he had lost, so devastated and defeated that it had almost broken him. But time heals all wounds, and slowly but surely, Xie Lian could haphazardly start putting himself back together. The grief and pain were still there, but he could breathe.
He owed this entire second chance at life to Shi Qingxuan and their work. The organisation they worked for — the Winds of Change — offered support to queer people all over the province, including housing, emergency funding, and social workers. It was only thanks to them that Xie Lian had found a safe place to live and work, far away from the things he was running from. It was clear to him now more than ever that if not for Shi Qingxuan and the WoC, he wouldn’t even be alive.
Xie Lian specifically asked his support worker to not give his address to anyone. He didn’t want to be found back then. But when Shi Qingxuan had showed up at his doorstep with a shriek of joy and a crushing embrace, Xie Lian could only be grateful. After three years of silence, he was not bitter. Instead, he embraced his friend and cried. And when Shi Qingxuan asked if he would come back, if he would try again, because they missed him and would take care of him, Xie Lian could only nod.
And so, he also owes his third chance at life to Shi Qingxuan.
When Xie Lian walks through the door Shi Qingxuan holds open, he is greeted by the heavy air of coffee and pastries. The walk from the apartment, while short, has left him a little sweaty, but the inside of the cafe is cool and calm. He can’t help but marvel at the atmosphere of the place. The afternoon sunlight streams in through the tall windows, playing on the leaves of potted plants, and the dark hexagon tiles and oak wood accents balance each other out beautifully. Mismatched chairs and tables are spread around the room, making the space feel messy in a comforting, organic way, and Xie Lian finds himself instantly relaxing. He has always loved coffee shops and something about this one makes him feel at home. It’s definitely not the cleanest or most streamlined of interior designs, but he decides he loves it specifically for that. Sure, it’s eclectic, but it’s also genuine.
Shi Qingxuan steps up next to him and grins widely. “Welcome to The Haven,” they say, pride audible in their voice. “Winds of Change started working on it last year, because we wanted to put together a community space for event purposes, and then the ball just kept rolling.”
They guide Xie Lian towards a spot in a corner with worn leather chairs and a heavy wooden table. Xie Lian lets himself sink into the deep seat and doesn’t even register that Shi Qingxuan didn’t sit down with him until he sees them by the counter, chatting to the curly-haired barista. The barista nods, sharply, a stern look on their face, and as they begin working the espresso machine, Shi Qingxuan drops coins into the tip jar. The room fills with the sound of metal and steam. Soon enough, they bring two brimming mugs back to the corner, placing one of them gently on the table in front of Xie Lian.
“A decaf latte with oat milk for my bestest friend in the whole world,” they say, before sitting down with their own mug, which Xie Lian guesses contains a doubly sweet white chocolate mocha. His teeth might ache at the thought of that much sweetness, but he isn’t one to judge others' tastes. He sips his own coffee, surprised by the richness of the decaf espresso, and it makes him wonder where they get their beans. The thought must be obvious on his face, because Shi Qingxuan beams at him.
“I knew you’d love it,” they say. “I made sure we got the best decaf roast I could find, I know you can’t have too much caffeine, so I wanted to give you this at least.” They grasp their own drink with two hands, sipping casually — as if they didn’t just crack Xie Lian’s heart right open. He almost chokes on his second sip.
It’s hard to put gratitude into words, but he tries to anyway. “Thank you,” he says. He’s not sure if Shi Qingxuan understands what this all means to him, but he tries to put it into his gaze.
Shi Qingxuan waves his gratitude away, looking sheepish. “It’s all for my own benefit actually,” they admit. “I selfishly want my friend back in town, of course I’m gonna do everything I can to make him stick around.” This unfortunately doesn’t help the lump in Xie Lian’s throat go away, and he blinks hard for a second time, clearing his throat.
“So,” he says, trying to ignore the soft look on his friend’s face. “Tell me about this place. You said you called it The Haven?”
“Mhm,” Shi Qingxuan nods, setting their drink down. “We played around with a lot of names, some better than others, but that’s the one that stuck, I guess. We want this place to be a safe haven, after all.” They gesture as they talk, hands flying in time with their words. “We went from the idea of an event hall to a community space, before settling on a coffee shop, which is basically a community space that can also supply its own income when you think about it. And that way we can also hire local queer folks and offer up somewhere to be for people who don't have other places to go.” They smile down at their lap. “It's not perfect, but we — or I mean, mostly me — I want it to be a potential in-between space. Y'know? That welcoming space we needed when we were young and insecure?”
Xie Lian nods, he knows. “I love that,” he says. “That's beautiful.”
“I knew you'd think so,” Shi Qingxuan responds with a wink. They're one of the few people Xie Lian knows that can make a wink look good. “Which is actually part of why I wanted you here. You see–” They lean forward, a cheeky smile at the edge of their lips. “I hired mostly teenagers and young adults, and when I realised I needed a grown-up around, the only person I could imagine entrusting this space to would be you.” They grimace, placating Xie Lian's shocked spluttering with a wave of their hand. “I know, I know, it's a lot of responsibility, and you don't have to say yes, you can take some time with it, you won't even have to take on managerial responsibilities, I hired someone else to do scheduling and ordering and shit, I just need someone I trust to be around, keep an eye on things.” They tilt their head at him, flashing him an innocent smile. “Whaddya think?”
Xie Lian doesn't know if he's more shocked that he's considered a responsible adult or that this is the reason Shi Qingxuan brought him back. He can barely speak for a moment, and as he struggles with his words, Shi Qingxuan continues.
“As I said, take as much time as you need, but until you make up your mind, I've asked them to give you free drinks, because I love you, and I figured it'd be nice for you to have someplace outside of the apartment where you could hang out, and if you wanted to get back into your little freelance writing gig thing, you could treat this as your office.” They nod toward the counter. “The baristas are all so sweet, some of them are a little weird, but y'know how kids are, they'd be so happy to get to know you. Seeing trans adults around is rare enough as it is, and these kids–” Shi Qingxuan sighs. “–they could use someone trustworthy in their lives.”
And once again, Xie Lian can't do anything other than thank his friend, blinking the tears back the entire time.