change on the rise

Míngzé easily affirmed he hadn’t done anything for Ruìsāng to turn threats into reality, and Ruìsāng smirked. “So, there’s no reason to take my threats seriously. Don’t be stupid and I am no threat to you,” he calmly stated. The problem was—he wasn’t sure if he meant it. For all the words he’d spoken, he’d never laid a finger on the other. He could have taken the artifact from him, could still do it, and yet he hadn’t.

The red bitch also had a name. “The red bitch was annoying when I invited her into my home. I did not, and will not, bother remembering her name,” he replied calmly.

Míngzé said he knew, and that if there was anyone else or any other possibility—but then he seemed to doubt his own words. He cursed, stating all he’d ever wanted to do was help.

Some people seemed to desperately crave helping, fixing things. Ruìsāng wondered why.

“Have you considered that your help might just make things worse?” he asked, unsure if he was talking to Míngzé, Vince, or himself.

Easier said than done, Míngzé stated, and Ruìsāng scoffed. “Cheers to that, gēgē,” he sighed. The weight of his decisions pressed on him; he wasn't sure if he was more foolish for letting Vince go or for allowing himself to be dragged into a home built on an unstable foundation.

Míngzé remarked they'd know when it was too late, and Ruìsāng rolled his eyes. Míngzé explained how the other pieces were useless without the one Ruìsāng held, emphasising that He wouldn’t get it until Míngzé knew everyone was safe, not to mention the ‘sacrifice’.

“What makes you think you have the power to stop him from taking it?” Ruìsāng asked, his tone sharp. “He does not care if we kill each other for it. If you think this piece will be safe from that beast, you are a bigger fool than I thought,” he warned. “There are more people with His affinity and blessing popping up left and right, and you still consider— How can you even begin to—” He sighed deeply.

When had he become the voice of reason?

Míngzé asked if he should hand over the piece, which struck Ruìsāng as ironic—technically, he didn’t have to, as Ruìsāng was already holding it.

Luckily, Míngzé realised this and spoke of someone who’d stolen the third part. He wondered if others knew Vince held a piece, and Ruìsāng sighed softly. Míngzé continued, mentioning the little beast before stating this wasn’t a battle he could win alone.

Ruìsāng tilted his head slightly, pondering.

“Are you saying those words to me, or to yourself?” he asked calmly. “If I take this piece and disappear, how will any of you ever achieve your goal? No one will die unless I decide to take you out one by one,” he stated. Perhaps it was arrogant to believe he could. But if it came down to the beast or Míngzé, he knew he could.

“Or you fight with me. Get this piece as far away from the beast as we can. Find a different way to get rid of your affinity if that’s what you so desperately crave. It does not need to involve the fucking God of Chaos.”

Ruìsāng scoffed at Míngzé’s question. For a moment, he waited for Míngzé to laugh or continue, but then he sighed and ran a hand through his messy hair.

“Would I need a ploy to walk out of here?” he asked flatly. They both knew that if Ruìsāng wanted to walk out that door, there was nothing Míngzé could do. He could throw himself at him, he could ask his Pokémon to help—but it would only come at the cost of his own apartment.

“If I wanted the easiest way to rid you of the artefact, I would have been gone by the time you returned,” he reminded him.

“I stayed because you and I needed to talk. Because you’re right, and it’s stupid to do this alone, and I’m sick of assuming you’re on the opposite side when you shouldn’t be.” They worked well together, and he’d much rather have Míngzé on his side.

Ruìsāng studied Míngzé as he considered his words. When Míngzé admitted he was glad Ruìsāng had stayed, his own gaze softened just a little. Then, the agreement came, and it felt like at least something was right again amidst everything that had fallen apart this year. At least he didn’t have to step away from the man he considered a friend anymore.

Swallowing as a hand reached out to him, Ruìsāng let a soft breath escape his lips, his red eyes focused on the hand. For a moment too long, he hesitated—not about taking the hand, but about how to do it.

They had broken one another’s trust, and yet, they sat here. Yet, Míngzé hadn’t accused him of anything so far. So, he reached out, taking Míngzé’s hand in his own, the artefact pressed between their palms as he turned them, leaving Míngzé’s hand facing upward and leaving it in his possession.

“What else have you been up to?” he asked, steering the conversation away from the artefact, from everything related to Yveltal and its minions. He just wanted to talk about something else for a moment, now that the artefact was back in Míngzé’s hands.

For once, he just wanted to sit with a friend and forget that his life felt barely worth living anymore.

Out of all the questions that could have been posed, Ruìsāng did not expect the other to ask him if he’d ever eaten brains.

Blinking, Ruìsāng automatically replied, “Do you think I’d have made my decisions if I had?”

But then the question landed properly, and Ruìsāng let out a soft sigh. “I’ve cooked and eaten some in a few meals, yes. Why?” he continued, raising a brow. “What the fuck, gēgē?” It was the weirdest conversation starter after just handing over a potentially city-ending artifact.

Had he lost his own brain?

Apparently, Míngzé had been on a blind date. To this, Ruìsāng snorted. The blind man on a blind date. That was funny. Míngzé continued to tell him it had been a good distraction and that brains had been served—before realising Ruìsāng had cooked them.

“I have cooked a lot of strange dishes for school,” he reminded Míngzé. While they’d met in a business class, Ruìsāng aimed to open a restaurant one day—which meant he’d also taken culinary courses. “There’s this dish—Tuslob buwa. Kind of like brain gravy, I guess. It wasn’t that bad,” he shrugged.

“Your date, though? How did it go? Did I lose my chance of charming Míngzé gēgē while I was busy?” he teased, a grin on his lips as he leaned a little closer.

Míngzé stated brain gravy sounded awful and that he hadn’t tried the fried brain they’d gotten. “So you won’t let me cook brains for you,” Ruìsāng noted. “Eh, there are better dishes anyway,” he shrugged. It had been okay. More of a morbid curiosity that had made him try it than actually thinking it’d taste nice.

“Of course it would,” Ruìsāng replied innocently when Míngzé asked if dating someone would stop Ruìsāng from flirting with him. Still, his voice dropped slightly as he continued. “I’m a good boy. I don’t flirt with taken men,” he added, which was one of the biggest lies he’d told in a long time.

He had definitely spent the night with taken men. A ring on their finger didn’t mean they didn’t like a man in his twenties while the wife was away.

Míngzé spoke of the date and that it went well before continuing to remind him about…

“The hopeless three,” Ruìsāng confirmed with a nod. “Three idiots at the lake waiting for the most unlikely person to save them.” They had been lucky Míngzé had been there, or he might not have bothered.

If the first thing he served Míngzé was a brain, the other would never trust his skills again. Ruìsāng leaned back, looking at him in amusement. “Then tell me, what do you want me to serve you? The least I owe you is some proper food sometime,” he said, waving his hand lightly. He could cook… if he had a kitchen.

Míngzé mentioned that only one of them was taken, and Ruìsāng scoffed in reply. “Vince and I got in a fight. It’s pretty much over,” he informed him calmly. “Thank your little beast for that one, too.”

“Of course. Sān gè shǎguā,” he nodded solemnly, giving Míngzé the Fènghuáng translation of the title he’d given it in his mind—Three Idiots.

Míngzé explained how a third of the idiots had been his date, and he mentioned a pink one. To this, Ruìsāng raised an eyebrow. “There was none with pink hair. A redhead, which I know isn’t your type, and the doctor,” he summarised. “I like the doctor. He gave me a rabies vaccine when your beast scratched me, just to be sure.”

“Alright. I’ll make you something from Fènghuáng,” he smiled in response when Míngzé said he wanted to eat something Ruìsāng loved to make. “Chief was the one who taught me how to cook, so it’ll be good,” he grinned, remembering how he had introduced the two a long time ago.

Míngzé seemed surprised, and Ruìsāng let out a soft sigh. “He did buy one. It was… a lot,” he muttered. “It wasn’t meant to last, and we got into an argument after I ran into the beast. It… escalated. Was bound to happen,” he continued. There was no point in moping about it. Vince hadn’t trusted him. That was becoming abundantly clear.

“It was red,” Ruìsāng nodded. “And I do. Doc gave me the shot as he couldn’t disagree.” To him, that was proof enough: the little beast carried rabies. Proven because one of the only two doctors he trusted on this planet had given him a shot against it.

“Did you guys play doctor yet? I’m sure he’s wonderful with his hands,” Ruìsāng teased when Míngzé mentioned he had gone on a date with the doctor. At least this was more fun than discussing his own failed love life.