chelryu

[chelryu]

( ；´Д｀)

this is a little embarrassing

[chelryu]

content warnings: none

tags: jing yuan x reader, gender-neutral reader (mention of reader in a nightgown), mutually assumed unrequited desire to reconnect, implied childhood friendship, jing yuan is an over-thinker, but he's still outwardly suave, reader has a tiny bit of personality (described as quiet)

a/n: some background - reader left the luofu a long time ago and returned recently

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it was deep into the night, and jing yuan had yet to fall asleep. he alternated between staring up at the ceiling and at the back of his eyelids, but whether his eyes were closed or not, it was still dark, so he could not tell if he was asleep or awake, and it was the confusion between asleepness and awakeness that regrettably confirmed his awakeness.

knowing of the darkness in his bedroom was mildly frustrating, because there was nothing keeping him awake nor allowing him to sleep. the darkness made everything turn into nothing, and so his heart swelled with yearning.

uncharacteristically, he decided to abandon his bed. he changed out of his sleep clothes into his usual leisure outfit, stepped out of his house, and followed the street lights until he stood in front of your home instead.

it was slightly absurd, he mused to himself, that he would find himself outside your door spurred by a moment of loneliness. he had long grown used to the holes in his heart left behind by his departed friends. though there were three who were still alive, they had all changed, and could not properly fill the cavities.

but you had reappeared in his life, almost the same as you were the last time he saw you centuries ago. perhaps a little milder and more withdrawn than he remembered, but largely the same.

he supposed, then, that his sudden visit was due to pure selfishness. he was not willing to let go of his newfound chance to heal the centuries-old loneliness, which your reappearance had turned from a constant dull ache to intense occasional flare-ups. he was, in some way, using you to deal with it before it starts to cause him problems. but you had returned to the luofu instead of staying at the yaoqing, to the same home you stayed at so long ago—surely you must have been thinking of him? surely you must have been remembering the way you would bump into each other on the way to school, your quiet self trailing behind him, staring at the back of his shoes…

you had always been quiet, so when he pressed the doorbell, it surprised him. it rang out, imploring, louder than he expected for someone who tended to disappear into quietude. or perhaps, it was loud precisely because you were quiet, so then one could be sure that you were not simply a mirage?

he waited a moment. when the door opened, the silence of the night seemed to bear down on him more heavily. you reminded him that he was lonely. his loneliness flared up.

unaware of his aching heart, you gazed at him with your usual placidity. you stood framed by your doorway, in your night dress and a simple silk ribbon in your hair, blinking the bleariness from your eyes. it was a simple gesture, a simple mode of dress, but he delighted in the comfort of the sight.

“general. what brings you here?” you asked, the words slow and thick in your sleep-stiff mouth.

your voice was like a clear stream of water in the thick quietude of night, a sound that would decidedly put him to sleep.

so he mustered up the courage, something he never usually lacked, to invite himself inside. you let him without resistance, and his heart jumped.

“i could not sleep,” he confessed.

you closed the door behind him, your gentle hand on the doorknob keeping it from making a sound. “i’ll pour some tea. it will help you sleep,” you said, before disappearing into your kitchen.

you returned soon with a teapot and one cup, and he felt guilty seeing that there was only one cup. he wondered if you had done it on purpose. he wondered if you did a lot of things on purpose, to show him that you too had been hurt because he was complicit in your separation by not searching for you.

you poured the tea for him. the stream from the spout that splashed into the teacup was like your voice. he listened to it and calmed himself.

he gladly brought the cup to his lips. but as he watched you from over the rim, you who distractedly stared at nothing, his loneliness flared up again.

he did not come for the purpose of speaking to you, but to somehow make himself sleepy. to remind himself that there was someone beyond the darkness of his bedroom and put his confusion to rest. but now that he was in your home, sitting with you by a steaming teapot, he was unsure if he had made the right choice to come here.

“i apologise for disturbing your sleep.” you are not obligated to comfort me with your presence, he meant, although he wasn’t entirely sure if you were even aware that he found comfort in your presence.

“it’s no issue.” i enjoy your company, you meant, because you had missed him too.

but the both of you did not dare to assume the secret meanings of each other’s words, and thus you were both stuck in an awkward position.

awkwardness is tiring, especially so in the middle of the night. before long, you felt yourself jerk awake, which made you realise that you had briefly succumbed to sleep.

embarrassed, you looked towards jing yuan, who gave you a small, amused smile. “i’ll get going soon, so that you can go back to bed.” i want to stay, but if it troubles you, i will leave.

to his relief, you shook your head. “stay as long as you like.”

he refilled his teacup, and feeling bold, lifted it to your mouth. he was relieved again when you drank from it. he watched your lips press against the ceramic, the movement of your throat as you swallowed, and decided that he was content even in the awkwardness.

however, when you fell asleep again, this time on the table with your head nestled in the crook of your elbow, jing yuan found himself conflicted. he wanted to stay longer, perhaps even fall asleep with you, but it surely must be uncomfortable to sleep by the table. he would have to carry you to your bed, and he would have to leave immediately after, because he was nothing but a gentleman. he could not yet invite himself into the space where you slept.

still, he decided to prolong his stay, sipping his tea as slowly as he could, mulling over the view of the moon outside your window, and the quiet sound of your breathing in the quiet house. he did so until he could no longer bear the knowledge that you slumbered beside him with your neck crooked uncomfortably.

he set down his cup, unfinished, and carried you to your bed.