It had been a long time since Chenzhou had fussed over him. So long that Yuze had forgotten how nice, and how overbearing, it actually was. Yuze had good luck with his health in general, and Chenzhou's only chances usually came from teh few times he'd been injured undercover. They were always short-term, though, only a day or two before Yuze was capable of finangling things himself.
That wasn't going to be the case this time. Even though his wounds had mostly closed, everything was tight and unwilling to give, and Yuze couldn't even bend the way he used to in the most basic way. He hadn't even been able to sit up on his own on the first try that morning, but he'd managed on the second. And Chenzhou had managed to let him, which was impressive given that he'd tried to dress Yuze a few moments earlier.
Eirian had howled with laughter and ended up pulling her own stitches, thankfully distracting Chenzhou long enough for Yuze to struggle through getting dressed by himself. She hadn't been laughing when he'd started fussing over her, and she'd had Mingzhe doing the same.
Yuze couldn't imagine how suffocating it was to have two of them hovering over her constantly.
Unfortunately, Yuze was too slow to use the opportunity to escape to his rooms alone to tend to his wounds in solitude, and Chenzhou had caught up to him before he'd made it to the door.
His only solace was the fact that Chenzhou knew, and was the only other person who had unfettered access to Yuze's rooms, so he would have caught up to him no matter what.
It was easier in the end to let Chenzhou help him to his room and to indulge his concerns, especially since Eirian didn't have anywhere near the patience Yuze did, and she already had Mingzhe worrying over her too. She was the only one willing to treat Yuze like he wasn't shattered into pieces, which he was, but at least she wasn't treating him like it. She'd asked him about Fox, about everything Yuze didn't want to talk about, but probably needed to.
Chenzhou kept a firm arm around him as they walked, and at least, he'd swept him out of the hospital before Akari arrived. He'd sent word that morning that he was coming to check in on Yuze personally before he was released, and there was nothing Yuze wanted less than to see the first man who'd left him while he was freshly mourning the second.
He couldn't even tell himself that Fox had left him unwillingly, because Yuze had witnessed the choice Fox had made with his own two eyes. Fox had made his choice, regardless of what Yuze actually wanted. Yuze would rather have been maimed for life than lose Fox.
He would, he realized, rather be dead than have Fox be dead. Especially for him. A life for a life was no noble sacrifice, no love ballad capable of comforting a broken-hearted survivor. All it did was leave one person with the knowledge that another one was gone from this world for them. That was nothing but a burden to carry for the rest of their lives.
What kind of love was that?
Nothing that Yuze wanted anything to do with. It wasn't like the childish infatuation he'd shared with Alkari, which had faded as soon as they'd given it their full attention. Or the quiet love Chenzhou and Anna had shared in private for so long.. Or even the partnership he saw growing between Eirian, Chenzhou, and Mingzhe, that they nurtured slowly, but surely when they could, but somehow managed to balance with all their responsibilities. Perhaps that was why their love seemed so steady, because they didn't put it above all else. They put it right where it belonged among the rest of their lives. Sometimes it was the most important thing, sometimes it was the least important, but most of the time it just was.
Maybe that was why it was working so much better than any of Yuze's pitiful attempts at the same. Except he hadn't even been trying with Fox. Really. He's sworn off love after Akari, and somehow it had snuck up on him again.
Yuze wasn't going to make that mistake again.
Never again.
Never, ever again.
Yuze was not going to carry another on his soul.
"Never again." He told Chenzhou as he collapsed sobbing in his arms once they were safely alone in his rooms. Eirian may have been the one who didn't treat him like a broken child, but Chenzhou was the one who offered comfort. Whose arms offered strength and security and warmth and no judgement, just let Yuze cry himself dry, exhausted, and didn't say anything at all.
Chenzhou held him for what seemed like hours, never wavering, never moving, never speaking. He just held Yuze while his brother cried for the first time since the day his parents had sold him. The end of love was a terrible thing, Chenzhou realized, no matter what the reason. It took pieces of you with it when it left, and there was no way to replace them. They didn't regrow or even form scar tissue; it just stayed a gaping wound, and all it did was stop bleeding eventually. The edges stayed frayed and torn, a permanent reminder of the loss.
The heart was the one organ that never truly healed.
~ tbc