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eleanorfenyxwrites · 3 years

Text

All Dreams Were Worth Keeping

Part 18

[Masterpost][Ao3]

-//-

=ONE MONTH LATER=

“MENG YAO!!!”

Nie Mingjue hears all movement in the office stop in response to his shout. What’s louder than a shout? A roar? He’d yelled for Meng Yao at the top of his lungs, which was loud enough that it isn’t totally out of the question that the people in the offices directly below their floor had heard it as well - might as well call a spade a spade (or rather a roar, a roar).

It’s far from the first time he’s ever yelled in the office, obviously – it’s not even the first time he’s yelled for Meng Yao. But he doesn’t know if it’s because of his own perception of the situation or a genuine shift in the emotional atmosphere of the office, but something tells him that everyone on the other side of his door can tell that this time is different from all the others.

Meng Yao has been working on changing things in the company quietly, secretly, but that doesn’t mean that he’s been working in such a way that others haven’t noticed the subtle changes he’s making – Meng Yao had assured him that it’s fine if they do, that it’s all part of the plan, that it’s just Nie Mingjue’s job to trust him no matter what Meng Yao asks him to do. No matter what Meng Yao does next. As with most of Meng Yao’s ‘reassurances’, that’s really too ominous to count for one. But Nie Mingjue does trust him, of course he does, and so he’d stayed quiet and ‘oblivious’ as he’d watched Meng Yao begin plucking at a dozen threads, silently observing as he’d put people he trusts where he wanted them, as he’d smiled and people-pleased and somehow simultaneously ensured that everyone in the office is now convinced that he’s destroying the Nie brand from the inside.

Were he not so intimately aware of Meng Yao’s ruthless streak, the way that he operates, he might have been fooled along with them. And it’s true, Meng Yao is making unprecedented changes to the company in a million small ways – smiling, smiling, smiling all the while as he quietly redefines important positions until they’re practically unrecognizable, as he begins ‘hiding’ large portions of information about the company’s finances (‘hiding’ because they’re all carefully outlined in Nie Mingjue’s private files).

All of this means that now, as Meng Yao ducks his head and steps into his office to shut the door as a flimsy barrier between Nie Mingjue’s booming voice and the eavesdropping of the office, there isn’t a single ally for him on the other side of it. He has cast doubt after doubt over himself as comfortably as shrugging into a favorite jacket, and as soon as the door is shut he looks at Nie Mingjue with steel in his gaze.

“A-Yao, don’t do this,” Nie Mingjue tries one more time, voice pitched low enough not to be overheard.

“Stick to the script, da-ge, I’m on a bit of a schedule.”

Nie Mingjue closes his eyes and fights not to smile at the response – nothing about this is funny, in fact it makes his stomach turn and his eyes smart. But it’s such a Meng Yao thing to say, to worry about being berated and fired in a timely manner to ensure he can stick to his schedule, that he can’t fully resist the wave of affection that threatens to crush him. But Meng Yao is right, of course. He has a script to follow, and he had promised that he would do so. He takes a deep breath in and shoots Meng Yao an apologetic look when he visibly braces himself for the tirade.

Nie Mingjue has never shouted like this in his entire life. He hurts his own ears with the volume. Meng Yao instantly claps his hands over his ears with a long-suffering look and Nie Mingjue briefly considers turning his back to him as if that could help soften the blow of it, though of course in such an enclosed space as his office that’s not really possible so he doesn't bother. He should have brought Meng Yao earplugs, he thinks idly, as he rails on about Meng Yao climbing over others to curry his favor, using his talents to destroy everything the Nies have worked toward for generations now in the guise of helping him, blah blah blah. He accuses Meng Yao of betrayal, of double-crossing, of corruption, embezzling, any and every white collar crime he could reasonably be accused of. It feels a bit over the top to him, personally, but Meng Yao had reassured him that everyone else will buy it, that even if some of them are things he’s never been accused of in the past, everyone will be perfectly willing to believe it of him in conjunction with the rest of their awful opinions of him. As if that isn’t just as bad, if not worse. Nie Mingjue pauses a couple of times to drink water to soothe his aching throat while Meng Yao reminds him of what else he needs to say, pitching his voice low and frantic enough that anyone eavesdropping on his side of the conversation could reasonably expect that he’s attempting to defend himself though they won’t be able to hear the actual words through the door.

It takes the better part of an hour to get through everything. Nie Mingjue has never before been so grateful that the only windows in his office face the city outside as he steps forward to bundle Meng Yao up in his arms and massage at his temple for him to help alleviate the headache of having to listen to him for so long.

“I really fucking hate this plan,” Nie Mingjue says for about the thousandth time, and Meng Yao thankfully doesn’t bother getting irritated with him for worrying at the problem like a terrier with a rat.

“I know, da-ge. But we’re not finished yet.”

“A-Yao no-“

“You promised!”

“I changed my mind! I’m not-“

“Do it or I’ll do it myself.”

Nie Mingjue jerks back from him to hold him at arm’s length, glaring at him as Meng Yao meets the glare with fierce determination.

“I’ll be fine da-ge, and you can make it up to me later if you’d like to. But I need you to do this. Please, I have to leave, we don’t have time to argue about this!”

Nie Mingjue shuts his eyes against the sight of Meng Yao’s wide, dark, imploring eyes and Meng Yao takes it as the silent acquiescence it is. He subtly shifts his position, planting his feet a little further apart to brace himself as he checks the distance between them. Once he’s satisfied and goes still, Nie Mingjue gives his shoulders a quick squeeze before he opens his eyes again just in time to land an absolutely savage backhand across Meng Yao’s face.

There’s usually something inherently satisfying for him about the crack of skin on skin when he boxes with another person rather than a sparring dummy. He likes the feeling of a good blow making a solid connection with his target.

This time it makes him gag as Meng Yao loses his balance and stumbles a few steps to the side, hand automatically coming up to cup his cheek as pain glazes his eyes.

“A-Yao-“ Nie Mingjue chokes, but Meng Yao turns to whip the door open and make his escape, just as planned. Nie Mingjue slumps against the front of his desk and covers his eyes with a shaking hand – the one aching from connecting with Meng Yao’s jaw.

He’s not sure how long he stays there as the office erupts into chaos on the other side of the half-open door, but eventually Nie Huaisang comes to find him in a towering rage. Well, a towering rage for Nie Huaisang.

“What in the hell did you do to Meng Yao?!” he demands as he enters the office, slamming the door shut behind him. “What the fuck did you do, da-ge?! Answer me!”

“A-Sang, calm down,” Nie Mingjue tries, but Nie Huaisang is beyond listening to him as he pounds the side of his fist against his chest, his face a mottled, angry red as he glares and shouts. Nie Mingjue can honestly say that he’s never seen Nie Huaisang like this, so furious like a true Nie. He’s seen him mad, of course – he was a grumpy child on top of being a spoiled brat (and ‘child’ includes ‘teenager’). He’s seen Nie Huaisang get upset plenty of times over the years of raising him, but his anger is usually a cold, snippy sort of thing - more like Meng Yao’s, actually, than like Nie Mingjue’s. Now, though, with his face beet red, vein pulsing in his temple, and lips twisted into a snarl, Nie Mingjue realizes with an immense sorrow almost too big to hold in his chest that his little brother hasn’t been spared the family curse.

“A-Sang stop it, calm down-”

“NO!! You’ve gone too far, da-ge! How dare you lay a hand on him?! How DARE you! I’m out of the office for half a day and this is what happens?! Get him back in here right now and BEG for his forgiveness!”

“A-Sang stop!” Nie Mingjue thunders as he grabs Nie Huaisang around the middle to stop him from storming right back out of the office to go after Meng Yao. Nie Huaisang struggles in his grip – even going so far as to bite his arm – but Nie Mingjue holds on tightly. All the Nie rage in the world isn’t enough to make up for the difference in their builds and the fact that Nie Mingjue focuses on strength and bulk when he trains, rather than flexibility and stealth like Nie Huaisang prefers on the rare occasions he can be motivated to train at all.

Nie Huaisang stops struggling quickly enough. He’s never had the energy for sustained anger like Nie Mingjue. He doesn’t wear it like a second skin, doesn’t let it simmer constantly, doesn’t let it sustain him. He is, at his core, a gentle sort of soul – and honestly? Too lazy to maintain any sort of strenuous emotion for long. Once it becomes clear that he’s never going to win the fight he simply gives up, going limp with a sob that Nie Mingjue shushes as he turns him around to hold him properly.

“It’s okay, A-Sang,” he says quietly as he rubs Nie Huaisang’s back. He stares blankly at the wall across from them and feels sympathetic tears spring to his own eyes, though he doesn’t let them fall. “Meng Yao knows what he’s doing.”

“Do you?” Nie Huaisang bites back in an instant, his tone far too bitter for Nie Mingjue’s liking.

“Not a clue.” It’s the honest answer at least, and it makes Nie Huaisang ugly-snort against his chest. “I just do what he tells me.”

“Does er-ge know what’s going on?”

“Only if A-Yao has told him, which I don’t know if he has. Probably not.”

“You’re both playing with fire, I hope you know that. Er-ge is going to be so upset if something happens to either of you and then you’ll have to look at his disappointed face.”

“I know. Now shut up and go wash your face. You’re a mess.”

Nie Huaisang pounds his fist once more against his chest but it’s much weaker this time, a complaint for his remark rather than further anger at him for hurting Meng Yao.

“Did you see him on your way in?” Nie Mingjue thinks to ask as Nie Huaisang extricates himself from his grip to wipe at his face as primly as he does everything else in his life. “His face –“

“You fucked him up pretty good, da-ge. Hope you’re pleased with yourself,” he snips with a toss of his hair. He crosses the room to check his reflection in the windows and Nie Mingjue has to cover his eyes again as he starts trembling. This is what he desperately wants to avoid – he doesn’t want to hurt the people he loves. He doesn’t want to become Lao Nie, chasing after his sons in a blind rage with nothing and no one else to let it out on thanks to self-imposed isolation from the rest of the world. He doesn’t want to be the reason his loved ones flinch away from raised voices or hands. He doesn’t want to become the snarling monster under his little brother’s bed, not after having been the one to save him from his nightmares of Lao Nie’s violent end throughout their whole lives.

“You could have just stabbed him and gotten it over with if you were going to hurt him so badly,” he continues, callous and cruel. “But his face, da-ge?”

“Enough!!” Nie Mingjue leans down far enough to rest his elbows on his bent knees, takes deep breaths in that do little to calm him. That do nothing at all to help him in his attempts to forget what Meng Yao’s cheek - soft, rounded, usually flushed with shy happiness when he brushes his fingers over it - giving way beneath his knuckles.

“I didn’t want to,” he whispers raggedly. “I promised I would help him, he said this was how, I don’t know -“

Nie Huaisang exhales long and slow as Nie Mingjue scrubs aggressively at his face.

“Is he coming home tonight?” Nie Huaisang asks, finally beginning to sound a bit more like himself. Nie Mingjue shrugs a bit and straightens with another scrub at his eyes for good measure.

“As far as I know he is, but I suppose there’s a chance he won’t. Text him and ask.”

“Fine. What do you want to do about all the people talking shit about him out there?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

Nie Mingjue finally meets Nie Huaisang’s gaze to find he looks…betrayed. Hurt. Nie Mingjue steels himself against that look and nods resolutely. This much, at least, he knows how to answer to help Meng Yao accomplish..whatever it is he’s after.

“Yes. Nothing - per A-Yao’s orders, so stop looking at me like that. Go back to your office, we have work to do. Anything you would normally send to A-Yao to handle, route to Zonghui instead. He’s my new vice, effective immediately, and let everyone else know too.”

Nie Huaisang looks for all the world like he wants to keep arguing, keeping accusing him with his sharp looks and sharper words, but after a moment he relents to storm back out of the office, leaving the door open behind himself. Nie Mingjue lingers where he is for another long moment - he takes a page from Lan Xichen’s book to close his eyes and take a deep breath, count to five, and release it. When he feels mildly steadier he straightens himself out and settles his shoulders, standing his full height and projecting as much confidence as he can muster as he stands in the open doorway, shoulders nearly brushing both sides of the frame.

“Everyone listen up,” he barks, his voice carrying easily across the din that goes silent instantly in a ripple beginning with those closest to him. He crosses his arms over his chest and glares at them all - they hate the man he loves, and though he can’t do anything about it but be bitter for it on Meng Yao’s behalf, he’s perfectly willing to do that little bit even as he practically spits the script Meng Yao had given him. Let them think that the anger is for Meng Yao, it will only help sell this lie of Meng Yao’s.

“Meng Yao is no longer affiliated with the Nie brand, company, family, or products in any way. If anyone ever sees him on the premises, report it directly to me and I’ll handle it.” He glances around the space to make sure the words (and the implicit threat) have landed before he says, “Get back to work,” and retreats back into his office. He slams the door shut for good measure and then gratefully collapses behind his desk.

There’s more to do, of course - he’ll have to be the one to inform HR of the changes, he’ll have to make sure that Zonghui has been properly trained (he has to have been, his appointment as Meng Yao’s replacement had been orchestrated by Meng Yao himself, of course he had trained him properly) and introduce him to the position. He has to try to focus on his job - that he doesn’t even like - while trying not to think too hard about Meng Yao hurt and somewhere unknown, trying his best to get close to Wen Ruohan, which might as well just be Nie Mingjue’s worst nightmare come to horrible life.

He spends the rest of the day in a fog he doesn’t attempt to break free from. Why should he? As far as everyone else is aware, he just had a horrendous falling out with his most trusted Person- romantic, platonic, professional, whatever relationship these people assume they have. He highly doubts anyone expects him to work as effectively as he otherwise does, and he doesn’t see anything wrong with leaning into it for at least a day.

He goes home with Nie Huaisang at the end of the day, the both of them silent and contemplative. He makes dinner, and dishes up enough for just the two of them when it’s clear Meng Yao isn’t home and likely won’t be. After Nie Huaisang retreats upstairs for the night, he can’t help but make up a plate for Meng Yao and wrap it up carefully in foil to set right at the front of the fridge.

He’s exhausted, but sleep seems so unlikely he doesn’t even bother going upstairs to bed alone. He settles in on the couch in the living room and stares blankly at the wall across from it, wondering just how and when and why things spiraled so far out of his control.

“I texted Yaoyao,” Nie Huaisang says from the top of the stairs some indeterminate amount of time later. “He said he’ll be home later, I told him you’ll wait up for him.”

“Of course,” Nie Mingjue replies woodenly - he can’t really imagine doing anything but waiting for his partner, it seems foolish to imply that anything else is possible. He registers the sound of Nie Huaisang’s footsteps on the stairs and him murmuring quietly to himself. He doesn’t bother to try to listen, wrapped up in his own thoughts as he is.

Something is suddenly pressed to the side of his face and he startles with a little jerk, his admonishment to Nie Huaisang not to sneak up on him sticking in his throat at the sound of a gentle, “A-Jue?”

Nie Mingjue grabs Nie Huaisang’s phone and presses it so tightly to his ear the plastic case creaks in his grip. “A-Huan-“

“Hi darling. What’s wrong? A-Sang just called to say that you need me?”

Nie Mingjue leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees and press his free hand to his eyes, and it’s only now that he’s conscious of how he sounds to Lan Xichen that he realizes his breathing is erratic and harsh in his own ears.

“Is anyone hurt?” Lan Xichen prompts when he doesn’t say anything. With the echo of the nauseating crack of his hand across Meng Yao’s face still in the back of his mind, Nie Mingjue somehow manages to choke out a half-strangled, “No.”

“Alright. Is anyone in danger?”

Nie Mingjue presses his hand more firmly to his eyes and tries not to think about Meng Yao doing his best to get close to Wen Ruohan - possibly right at this very moment. “No.”

“I am sure this will pass quickly, then,” Lan Xichen soothes, and somehow words that would sound trite from anyone else actually do sound comforting coming from him.

“Yeah. Can you just..talk to me? About anything, it doesn’t matter.”

“Of course, my heart. Give me a moment to think of where to begin.”

Nie Mingjue forces himself to sit back and sink into the sofa in an attempt to relax. Lan Xichen’s voice is familiar and comforting in his ear and as he listens his breathing gradually evens out and he finally finds the will to stop mentally replaying the events of the day interspersed with scenes of his worst fears re: Meng Yao walking right into Wen Ruohan’s clutches.

Because Lan Xichen is wonderful and amazing, he doesn’t ask why he’s not asking Meng Yao for comfort, or where he is, or why he’s not also on the call. He just talks - about how his work is going, about the few sights he’s been able to see in the rare breaks in his busy schedule, about the kindness of the people he works with. He shares a couple of folk tales he’s been told in the countries he’s visited so far. By the time he says, quietly and full of regret, “A-Jue, my heart, I apologize, I have to leave for work. Are you going to be alright?” Nie Mingjue can answer honestly in the affirmative.

“Yeah A-Huan, I’m alright. I miss you.”

“I miss you as well. We have reached the halfway point of my absence, A-Yao informed me a few days ago.”

Nie Mingjue can’t help but smile at that, just a little thing at the corners of his mouth. “Yeah, he’s terrifying. I can ask him at any moment how long it is until we can see you and he can tell me down to the day. Down to the minute, actually, if I give him a hypothetical flight time for you.”

“That is quite impressive. Gratifying as well, to know that he is as anxious for my return as I am.”

“Yeah, of course he is. We love you.”

“Mm, and I adore you both. I have to go, please call should you need me again?”

“I will. Have a good day at work.”

“I will, you and A-Yao have a good night. I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

No sooner has Nie Mingjue clicked the red icon to hang up than the phone is plucked right back out of his hand and he looks up to find Nie Huaisang tapping away at it already, texting faster than Nie Mingjue has ever managed to comprehend.

“You lied to er-ge,” he says as he turns to sit down next to him, still tapping away.

“What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him, and there’s nothing he can do from Hungary but worry himself sick and run himself even more ragged than his uncle does. If A-Yao wants to tell him what’s going on then I won’t stop him, but he hasn’t yet and it’s for the exact same reason.”

“He went to Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji’s place after he left the office, by the way,” Nie Huaisang informs him, still not looking up from his phone or ceasing his typing. “I mean I’m assuming he went looking for help from Wei-xiong specifically since I’m pretty sure he and Wangji have said maybe five words to each other in total, but. Just in case you were curious. You know, in case you wanted to ask about him, make sure that he’s okay in literally any way shape or form -”

“Do not continue to imply what I think you are,” Nie Mingjue growls. “Go back upstairs. Thank you for calling Xichen, don’t undo all the work he just did by pissing me off.”

“Suit yourself, you can wait up for him alone then. I need my beauty sleep anyway. Goodnight da-ge.”

Nie Mingjue mutters a goodnight of his own and settles back into the couch properly as Nie Huaisang’s quiet footsteps retreat upstairs again, and he forces himself to practice some patience and wait.

----

Meng Yao takes a deep breath in and lets the crisp winter evening seep into his chest.

Nightless City.

It certainly lives up to the name. The whole place is lit up a lurid red, neon everywhere breaking the night and lending everyone waiting in the queue a demonic pallor.

“Wen Qing should be inside and I told her you’re coming. Wherever she is, you’ll find Wen Ruohan.”

Wei Wuxian’s voice crackles unpleasantly in his ear, but that discomfort is far preferable to walking into this by himself - not that he’ll ever admit to another soul that he’s found some semblance of solace in the man’s presence.

“Get me back out no later than 2am, it’s a long drive home,” he says quietly as he continues sizing up the club. It’s not too crowded yet, it only just opened an hour ago, but that’s absolutely fine with him. He’s not thrilled by the prospect of seeing what everyone gets up to in a club that belongs to Wen Ruohan when in the full swing of things.

“10-4, Roger, copy that, over.”

“Wei Wuxian, do you watch anything but cheesy American trucker films from the 70’s?”

“Listen to me Meng Yao, they’re right up your alley - hairy, beefy men with repressed emotions and huge mustaches -“

“I will slaughter you and deliver your corpse to Lan Wangji in a hundred individual packages.”

“Nice - hold onto that mindset in there and you won’t have any trouble hopping into Wen Ruohan’s pocket.”

“Get to the point, Wei Wuxian.”

“Right, sorry. Got your knife?”

“Of course.”

“Backup knife for when they take that one off you?”

“Yes.”

“Backup backup?”

“I’m not an amateur, Wei Wuxian, and they’re your knives. You know I’ve got them.”

“Right, ‘kay. If they search you and find the earpiece just give it to them, it’s fine. I’ll get you out no problem without it and you can spin it however you want to get them to trust you.”

“Got it.”

“Okay. You’re all set then, go in whenever you’re ready.”

Meng Yao takes another deep breath how Lan Xichen showed him, visualizing it reaching all the way down to the tips of his toes and fingers and taking a moment to settle himself in his body. His face hurts - there’s a prominent bruise along the entire side of his jaw and up his cheek and his eye feels a bit swollen, tender to the touch. He can feel the lingering ache of it in his teeth and bitten tongue. Beyond that he feels fine, if a little nauseous, and so when he’s finished doing the quick mental check-in he steps forward to approach the club.

“Good evening,” he greets the security at the door with his best shy smile, chin dipped so he can look up at them through his lashes. “I would like to meet with Xiandu.”

The man closer to him snorts a rude laugh and makes a gesture as if to shoo him away that has Meng Yao’s teeth grinding behind the benign facade of his smile. “It doesn’t work like that, don’t waste your breath. Back of the line, or get lost.”

“Oh? Pity,” Meng Yao sniffs delicately. “I have something he wants - several things he wants, actually - and I suppose it’ll just be you who will have to take the fall when he finds out who’s responsible for keeping said things from him.”

“Threats don’t work here, pretty boy, do you even really know where you are? Quit wasting my time.”

Meng Yao bites on the side of his tongue and widens his smile just enough to be unnerving. He pairs it with a little flutter of his lashes and a tip of his chin that makes his deep red bruise all the more obvious.

“He’ll want to see me, call him and check if you don’t believe me. You think a worthless peon like you is allowed to know just whose loyalties he’s waiting to have laid at his feet? Go ahead, turn me away. I hope he’ll allow me to torture you when he finds out what you’ve done.”

The first crack of doubt appears in the nervous shifting of the man’s gaze and Meng Yao’s smile widens further. In the harsh neon lighting he’s sure his dimples must stand out even more so than usual. He desperately wishes he were using them on one or both of his partners rather than this brute, but he has work to do before he can go home for the night.

“And just who should I tell him is so rudely demanding an audience with him?” the man drawls, getting his feet back under him.

“Oh I’m nobody,” he dismisses with an artfully careless wave of a hand. “Tell him that Nie Mingjue has thrown his best assistant out like a bag of dog shit. I believe the rest will be implied by my presence.”

The obviously pandering look on the man’s face as he pulls a phone out of his pocket to dial doesn’t matter. The sneer on his lips as he repeats Meng Yao’s script doesn’t either. What does matter is the way his smug features fall slack in response to whatever is being said on the other end of the line, and when Meng Yao meets his gobsmacked look with another sweet smile the infuriated expression that crosses his face next is satisfying enough to almost make the rest of it worth it.

“Thank you,” he says sweetly without bothering to wait for the verbal confirmation, and then he strides past the man and opens the door to the club himself.

The interior of the club is dark, lit only by the same neon from outside, a lurid red with no visible direct source. It comes from the track lighting near the ceiling and up from behind the booths that ring the main space, a glow just strong enough to lend definition to the dark shapes of the patrons through the haze of cigarette smoke and the general miasma of too many sweaty people in the same space. He pauses to attempt to get his bearings and perhaps seek out the familiar figure of Wen Qing. He hadn’t expected to actually use her assistance, but now he understands - the place is a maze of dark, twisting bodies and the bulk of imposing furniture all separated by partitions that further confuse and disorient, and he’s absolutely sure that it’s designed to make those trapped in it as divorced from themselves and the world as possible.

Wei Wuxian is mercifully quiet in his ear, giving him the time to settle and just…look. And perhaps freak out down in his core, where no one can see it and he can easily suppress it. So many months of tracking every sordid thing Wen Ruohan is responsible for and he’s suddenly standing in the seat of it. His skin crawls and he desperately wants to go home, but he finally pushes forward into the space to begin making his way to the nearest set of stairs, narrow metal things that hug one wall. If he understands Wen Ruohan at all then it seems likely he’ll be somewhere above his domain where he can comfortably observe it.

Three flights of stairs later he finally spots Wen Qing standing post outside a rather nondescript door, and when he turns his footsteps in her direction he sees her posture shift just enough to know that she’s noticed him and is paying attention. When he steps close enough in the gloom for her to see him more clearly he doesn’t miss the way her eyes dart down to his jaw and widen ever so slightly.

“He’s expecting you,” she says coolly as if they’re mere strangers, and he nods. “Keep it brief, he has a meeting in forty-five minutes.” That’s a much briefer window of time than his 2am deadline and he lets the relief slip through the protective shell around his emotions for a small bit of comfort.

The room beyond the door is less dim than the rest of the club, but only slightly. The same lurid neon is present here as well, but the general gloom at the back of the room is alleviated by a few lamps draped in silk scarves to dim them. Wen Ruohan sits on a sofa like it’s a throne, lounging back and swirling a drink of indeterminate color, though it looks uncomfortably like blood in the low, red light.

“Meng Yao.”

Wen Ruohan’s voice is oily and smooth, the two syllables of Meng Yao’s name somehow still dripping with lazy confidence. Wen Ruohan insists on those who are loyal to him calling him ‘Xiandu’, which Meng Yao personally thinks is more than a bit ham-handed, but now looking at him in his throne and having to walk sedately as his voice in his ears and his eyes on him makes his skin crawl, he can begin to understand why certain sorts of people would go along with it. He exudes power, wears it like a splendid set of robes, but as Meng Yao approaches he reminds himself that it’s an ugly power, born out of the suffering and pain of others, out of fear, out of blood.

“Xiandu.” He dips into a bow once he’s close enough and the weight of Wen Ruohan’s contemplative gaze keeps his shoulders rounded even once he’s straightened his spine again.

“Cast aside once again, hm?” Meng Yao does not allow the sting of the reminder that his past is not a secret at all to sink in too deeply. Had he truly been thrown out of Nie Mingjue’s life, he knows himself well enough to know that he would be much more susceptible to that slightly mocking tone. But as it is, he thankfully only has to play the part of the spurned, injured, no-longer-trusted confidante.

“Yes, Xiandu.”

“What a pitiful thing you are,” he hums next and Meng Yao’s nearly too busy trying to unclench his jaw not to notice a new presence at his side. He acts more on instinct than any rational thought, flicking his main knife out of his sleeve and holding it to the throat of whoever is next to him. “A-Chao, don’t sneak up on guests.”

Wen Chao sneers at him with a pointed glance down at the blade. Meng Yao makes no motion to remove it from his neck and neatly dodges when Wen Chao makes to swat at him, returning the blade to his throat between one blink and the next.

“With all due respect, Xiandu, I am not so pitiful that I don’t have the nerve to teach your second heir not to startle me.”

“Go away until I call for you, A-Chao,” Wen Ruohan orders as lazily as he’s said everything else so far, seemingly quite unconcerned about seeing a knife at his son’s throat. “Go play with your toys.” The childish dismissal must rankle and Meng Yao takes a moment of pleasure in it (and even Wei Wuxian snorts a faint laugh in his earpiece).

“They’ve stopped screaming already so they’re no fun anymore,” Wen Chao retorts just as lazily as his father and Meng Yao’s amusement turns to ice in his veins instantly. “Xue Yang hasn’t brought anything fresh back in weeks either, what am I supposed to play with now?”

“Go find Xue Yang then, or find some fresh ones yourself,” Wen Ruohan dismisses with a wave of one hand, slightly less lazy now and a bit more imperious after having his first order ignored. “Don’t return until I summon for you.”

Meng Yao finally drops the knife to let Wen Chao offer his father a rather sullen bow with ill grace and turn to leave again, though he at least has the sense not to utter whatever unsavory thoughts he’s having about being treated like a naughty child until he’s out of earshot, if he says anything at all. Meng Yao returns his attention instantly to the much bigger threat in the room and tucks his knife up his sleeve again.

He takes a deep breath to steady himself for the part he’s dreading perhaps the most out of anything else tonight. He offers a simpering smile and an obsequious little bow of his own, hands tucked neatly in front of his waist. “Xiandu is much more knowledgeable of the world than this humble servant,” he says with his gaze somewhere around Wen Ruohan’s feet - the shadows near the floor are a bit too thick to tell for sure. “May I be correct in assuming you are aware of who I am – was – to Nie Mingjue?”

“Naturally. What do you want?”

“What…do I want?”

“Everyone always wants something, especially when they come to me of their own volition. Do you think you can offer me knowledge or ammunition against Nie Mingjue I do not already have? There’s nothing you have that I want, so you must want something. Even if you were to have something I want, there’s nothing given for free in this world - you would want something in return for your information. No need to be shy, out with it. What’s a business deal without a bit of honesty?”

I want your severed head delivered to Nie Mingjue as a wedding present, Meng Yao thinks rather savagely as he goes through the irritating process of looking properly abashed for having been ‘caught out’ in an ulterior motive. When he’s ‘recovered’ he clears his throat delicately and dips his shoulders a bit further into another bow.

“This humble servant came to offer the same services I once provided to Nie Mingjue - and to ask to be permitted to take my revenge once I’ve delivered him into your hands.”

“I have more important things on my mind than an irritating gnat like Nie Mingjue.”

“Of course,” Meng Yao replies smoothly, seething with a quiet rage for this monster who ruins lives everywhere he looks without a single thought to spare for his victims. Who can’t even see his victims as such - who sees them as toys, as irritants, mere playthings or minor nuisances he can grind to dust with a snap of his fingers. “Xiandu is certainly busy with much more important matters. I am happy to assist in any way in exchange for being allowed to be the one to ruin the Nie family.”

His plans hinge on this. For all the digging that he’s done into Wen Ruohan’s numerous crimes, he knows that offering himself into his service, his trust, will have to mean putting himself in danger. But more importantly, Wen Ruohan must understand, as sharp and ruthless as he is, that allowing Meng Yao to begin working for him in such a capacity is a weakness in his defenses. It’s a weakness Meng Yao will absolutely exploit, but as far as Wen Ruohan is (likely) aware, Meng Yao is nothing more than a man scorned and spurned and kicked around too many times by powerful men who have no desire to keep him. Who would he have to be loyal to except for the man who will protect him while he seeks out his revenge?

He doesn’t expect Wen Ruohan to find any value in him or his work. He doesn’t expect any shred of decency from him whatsoever. He expects for Wen Ruohan to humor him perhaps briefly and then to find him so far beneath his notice except as a willing and capable servant that he won’t see his end coming until it’s too late to stop it.

“For your revenge, do whatever you wish, your personal squabbles are beneath me. For the rest, I will consider it,” Wen Ruohan replies ponderously, almost sounding amused. “The last toy I acquired who’s looking for revenge is currently out making a mess of things and generally being a nuisance. I trust you won’t be so stupid as to do the same?”

“No, Xiandu,” Meng Yao replies, heart rate ratcheting up and thundering in his ears.

“Mm. Leave. I will inform you of my decision about your offer when I see fit.”

“Yes, Xiandu.”

Meng Yao bows once more and turns to leave, pausing when Wen Ruohan calls for him to wait. “If memory serves, you live with Nie Mingjue do you not?” he asks, sounding bored once again but Meng Yao is fairly sure he detects a hint of sharpened steel beneath it.

“Yes, Xiandu.”

“And now that he’s made a mockery of you and severed all ties with you?”

“I don’t know.”

“Continue to,” he orders with a rusty chuckle. “Crawl back to him and beg if you must, pathetic thing that you are.”

Had the argument been real, had Nie Mingjue’s anger been genuine, it would be torturous to have to go back to him and beg to not be made homeless, to have to rely on any final shred of goodwill he might have towards him. As it is, of course, it’s the best thing he could hope for, and also the safest. Nie Mingjue will protect him as fiercely as Meng Yao will protect him. He can keep Nie Mingjue informed of what’s going on without having to resort to subterfuge and secret messages to keep their relationship hidden from any possible prying from Wen Ruohan.

All of this flashes through his mind in the span of a heartbeat but he hesitates for a moment longer before replying, as if pained, “Yes, Xiandu.”

“Go.”

Meng Yao leaves without another word and despite how tempting it is to relax once out of Wen Ruohan’s sight, he knows that he can’t. He keeps the mask of distant servility on his face as he passes Wen Qing at her post without a second glance in her direction and begins to head down the stairs. He’s on the final flight, so close to freedom, when someone else begins ascending them in front of him, and when he lifts his eyes from his feet only to lock eyes with Jin Guangshan.

A smirk tips up his father’s lips, eyes glittering with malice, and Meng Yao’s stomach lurches rather unpleasantly.

“Father,” he greets when their paths cross, his hand clenched tightly enough on the banister at his hip that he’s pretty sure he’s leaving divots in the polished wood.

“Oh shit oh fuck do I need to get you out?” Wei Wuxian suddenly crackles to worried life in his ear and Meng Yao ignores him in favor of sliding his gaze from Jin Guangshan to Jin Zixuan behind him.

“Zixuan.”

“Oh my god WHAT?!” Wei Wuxian screeches. Meng Yao tunes him out easily with practiced ease.

“I heard Nie Mingjue finally came to his senses,” Jin Guangshan sneers and his voice is just as oily as Wen Ruohan’s, though naturally it’s much better at slipping under his skin and wrapping tightly around his thundering heart, slowly wringing the life out of him. “It was only a matter of time before he realized you’re nothing but a conniving whore like your mother. A pity he only marked up your face, I did a much better job of things when you showed up unwanted on my doorstep.”

“Yes father.”

“Dad-” Jin Zixuan starts, looking rather constipated.

“I’m going upstairs,” Jin Guangshan tells Jin Zixuan, clearly done with Meng Yao now that he’s said his piece. “Amuse yourself out here, I’ll be down in an hour.” Jin Guangshan continues on his haughty way looking far too fucking pleased with himself. Meng Yao doesn’t bother to watch him go, nor does he give Jin Zixuan a second glance. He unclenches his hand from the banister and continues descending the stairs, only to be stopped not two steps later by a hand around his arm.

“Meng Yao wait -” Jin Zixuan says, still strained. “What he said - it wasn’t - I don’t - “

“Unhand me.”

Jin Zixuan releases his arm like it burned him and Meng Yao continues on his way, but to his dismay his brother follows him, still stumbling over sentences that Meng Yao can’t even begin to fathom the ends of as Wei Wuxian curses in a steady stream under his breath. Meng Yao can only hope that he’s finding the quickest route to come and get him.

The fresh air outside is a welcome distraction from the overwhelming interior of the club, full of far too many bodies now that the night is in full swing and people are losing their inhibitions. He takes a deep breath of it before he rounds on Jin Zixuan still stammering through something that sounds like it’s supposed to be an apology - Meng Yao hasn’t been listening closely enough to know.

“What can I do for you, Zixuan?” he asks, tone as crisp as the cold breeze that ruffles suddenly through his hair.

“For me? Nothing! I just..I was worried.” That brings Meng Yao up short and it’s only thanks to years of practice hiding himself that his neutral expression doesn’t crack.

“Worried.”

“I heard what Nie Mingjue did,” he admits, clearly embarrassed, though whether for himself for listening to gossip or for something else isn’t exactly clear. “Are you like...okay?”

Meng Yao can only blink at his brother, who has never once acknowledged that he exists outside of the yearly budget meetings at work, and even then he still usually doesn’t because Nie Mingjue handles them himself, and Meng Yao stays comfortably in his shadow as he always does. His brother, who chooses now of all times to begin expressing any sort of human emotion towards him. Now.

“The screeching tires are me. Get in the car,” Wei Wuxian says and Meng Yao, for lack of anything better to do, simply turns around without a word, crosses the pavement, and climbs straight into the sleek rental Wei Wuxian pulls to a screeching halt perfectly centered for him at the curb. He shuts the door behind himself and Wei Wuxian is instantly pulling away again, hands clenched around the steering wheel and left knee jiggling furiously as Meng Yao fastens his seatbelt with mechanical motions.

They drive in silence, and Meng Yao appreciates it more than he will ever say. He carefully pulls the little wireless piece from his ear and sets it in the cup holder between them, the microphone from his lapel joining it a moment later. He removes his two borrowed back up knives and places them in the center console, more to have something to do with his hands rather than any real need to immediately return Wei Wuxian’s knives to him.

“Do you want to look at pictures of A-Yuan on my phone?” Wei Wuxian asks about twenty minutes into the drive and Meng Yao chokes on a strangled sort-of-laugh.

“Why would I want to look at pictures of Wen Yuan?”

“Don’t front, I saw your face when he hugged your leg before we left,” Wei Wuxian snorts and Meng Yao is too exhausted to bother arguing. He knows he’d shown his hand a bit when he’d met little Wen Yuan earlier. He’d shown up at Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji’s house as quickly as he could after the ‘fight’ with Nie Mingjue to begin planning their move against Wen Ruohan, and Wen Yuan had answered the door.

He pushes past his tangled ruminations on what had just happened at Nightless City to instead think about earlier that afternoon, when he’d knocked on the door of the Lan/Wei household and heard the patter of tiny running feet behind it and a high voice chirping out, “I got it!!” Instead of the triumphant glitter in Jin Guangshan’s eyes, Meng Yao thinks about little Wen Yuan tipping his head back comically far to look up at him with wide, innocent eyes and a few blinks that Meng Yao had silently returned once the boy had opened the door.

“Hello,” he’d said after a moment of blinking at each other in silence and Wen Yuan had suddenly grown a bit shy, hiding behind the edge of the door to offer him a wave and a quiet little, “Hi,” that had melted Meng Yao’s traitorous heart.

“A-Yuan baby don’t answer the door alone!” Wei Wuxian had called frantically from further inside the house, skidding around the corner on his socks and nearly taking out a decorative table holding a very lovely antique vase on his way.

“I thought it was Rich-gege,” he had explained as he’d reached for Wei Wuxian to allow himself to be hoisted up onto his hip to lay his head down on Wei Wuxian’s shoulder.

“Rich-gege?” Meng Yao had replied with a raised eyebrow and Wei Wuxian had laughed nervously and gestured for him to come inside quickly.

“It’s what he calls Lan Zhan. This is the nicest place he’s ever lived and Lan Zhan spoils him rotten, so he’s Rich-gege.”

The discussion had moved on quickly from there to the blooming bruise on his face, and somehow as he’d sat on Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji’s sofa recounting the events of the morning Wen Yuan had wormed his way into his lap and set up camp there for the rest of the afternoon. Wei Wuxian had thankfully not bothered to comment on the fact that Meng Yao was strangely willing to play babysitter to a child he’d never met before, but that concession apparently had a bit of an expiration date.

“I do not need to see pictures of A-Yuan, thank you,” he replies a bit numbly.

“He’s going to be your nephew, you know.”

Meng Yao goes still at that, staring blankly out the windshield at the headlights in the oncoming traffic on the other side of the highway. They’re practically blurring as they pass thanks to the fact that Wei Wuxian’s foot is likely plastered to the floor judging by how fast they’re going, but Meng Yao can’t honestly say he cares.

“What.”

“A-Yuan. He’s going to officially be mine and Lan Zhan’s at some point within the next year or two we hope, and I’m assuming you’re with Xichen-ge for the long haul, which means that not only will webe brothers-in-law - quit flinching every time I say that! Rude! - but A-Yuan will be your nephew because he’ll be Xichen-ge’s nephew.”

“I do not recall ever agreeing to become any part of your family, extended or otherwise,” he snips because it’s easy to do when his brain would much rather be offline and not having conversations with fucking Wei Wuxian about things that make his chest feel uncomfortably tight with emotions he refuses to label.

“Ah well that’s the great thing about queer friend groups, it just happens eventually whether you like it or not,” Wei Wuxian replies flippantly. They lapse into silence after that and Meng Yao eventually closes his eyes against the night to take slow, deep breaths and count the minutes as they drag by. He distracts himself briefly with a mental calculation of how quickly they can get home at this rate, and then once satisfied that he’s judged it correctly he begins counting down.

He’s correct within a two minute window for error, which he finds acceptable.

“For what it’s worth,” Wei Wuxian says as the car idles in the driveway while Meng Yao unfastens his seatbelt and gathers himself mentally to go inside. “Jin Guangshan is a steaming sack of shit, and nothing he says about you or your mom is true. One day we’ll make him pay for hurting you.”

“…We?”

“All of us. Me, Lan Zhan, Nie-xiong, A-Cheng, Mianmian, Qing-jie, and Ning-di. We’ll all help you hurt Wen Ruohan for Nie-dage’s sake, and then when it’s time we’ll hurt Jin Guangshan for yours.”

Meng Yao doesn’t miss that Jin Zixuan is left out of the list of those who will hurt their father, but it doesn’t matter. The tight feeling in his chest is back, and he finds all he can do is nod silently before he opens the door and steps back out into the night to head towards the warmth of the porch light left on for him.

His hands are shaking such that he fumbles with his keys for a moment before he manages to unlock the door. Wei Wuxian backs out of the driveway once he’s accomplished it, and Meng Yao forces himself to turn back and wave at him just once before he disappears. Wei Wuxian returns it with a three-finger salute that very nearly makes Meng Yao smile - he remembers seeing the same gesture as a boy in Yunping, and he’s suddenly reminded rather forcefully that against all odds he and Wei Wuxian had once been something like neighbors back when Wei Wuxian had been homeless before being found and brought to America by Jiang Fengmian, and Meng Yao had been a young boy blissfully unaware of anything but the humble life Meng Shi had been able to provide for them before emigrating to follow Jin Guangshan in the hopes he would support his son.

The returning tightness in his chest very rudely labels itself without his permission as ‘belonging’ or perhaps ‘family’ or perhaps ‘the mortifying ordeal of being known’. Maybe all three, maybe more. Maybe none of them. He doesn’t examine it too closely.

Meng Yao closes the door softly behind himself and takes a deep breath in as he toes off his shoes. The house smells faintly like whatever Nie Mingjue had made for dinner as well as the slight lemony scent of the cleaner he uses on the counters after every meal. Underneath it is the unique smell of the house that wraps around Meng Yao like a blanket, heavy and soft on his shoulders. He shrugs out of his jacket and hangs it up, drops his keys and wallet in the dish on the hall table.

His socked footsteps are silent as he walks down the hall towards the living room where the glow of a single tabletop lamp is all that alleviates the gloom. Unlike the dim unreality of Nightless City, this is warm and comfortable, soft even, and it only becomes more so when he spots Nie Mingjue waiting on the sofa, too familiar of a presence to startle him.

“Da-ge,” Meng Yao greets. Nie Mingjue says nothing, he just holds one arm out from his side in silent invitation and Meng Yao very calmly crosses the space to climb onto the couch and curl up into the smallest ball he can, facing backwards so that his shins are pressed against the back cushions and he can press his face into Nie Mingjue’s shoulder as the man’s arms come around him, his whole body turned to better hold him close.

They’re silent for a long time. Meng Yao cries and Nie Mingjue doesn’t shush him, doesn’t say anything at all. He presses kisses to his hair and against his temple, he lets Meng Yao soak the shoulder of his t-shirt without a hint of discomfort. When Meng Yao’s tears finally stop he’s trembling and breathing too hard and quick, anxiety finally breaking the dam of his control and flooding him with pent up adrenaline and fury that Nie Mingjue holds him through as well. His hands skate slowly up and down his back in a steady rhythm that helps him keep his head above water, and though the experience is far from easy or pleasant, he doesn’t drown under the weight of it.

His trembling fades as exhaustion settles in its wake, and Nie Mingjue supports his weight easily when he sags against him, utterly boneless.

“Did he buy it?” Nie Mingjue finally asks softly and Meng Yao nods, wincing when the movement makes his bruise - pressed to the firm curve of Nie Mingjue’s shoulder - flare to sullen life.

“He’s toying with me as a test by saying I have to beg and grovel to continue living with you while I get my revenge on you.”

Nie Mingjue snorts at that and presses a sound kiss to his forehead that makes Meng Yao smile, barely there but real and full of relief. “Slip some poison in my food to get your revenge,” Nie Mingjue posits as he scoops Meng Yao up and stands with him. Meng Yao doesn’t care - at this point he’s gotten used to Nie Mingjue picking him up and taking him wherever he wants him.

“Poison is a tricky one, especially since you cook everything for us,” Meng Yao mumbles, perhaps slightly deliriously. Nie Mingjue sets him on the counter and he settles in with a grumbling sigh for no longer being wrapped up in his boyfriend’s arms. “Not nearly as satisfying either, I’d have to be the one to take care of you as your health declined, which would likely be an unpleasant process since I’d be out to make you suffer.”

“It’s really comforting that those are your only objections.” Meng Yao just hums and tips his head back to rest against the cabinets as Nie Mingjue putters around. There’s the metallic rustling of aluminum foil and then the clatter of the microwave opening, the clink of a plate, a few beeps, the hum of it once Nie Mingjue hits start. His heart warms as he realizes Nie Mingjue must have made him a plate for dinner and another small smile creeps across his lips. He feels more than hears Nie Mingjue approach him again and he creaks his eyes open just enough to watch him through his lashes as the man wraps something in his hands in a thin tea towel and then reaches up to hold his chin steady with one cool hand.

“Hold still,” Nie Mingjue cautions softly and then he’s pressing something cool against his bruise and Meng Yao makes a small, pathetic noise in the back of his throat. “I’m sorry.”

“I told you to do it.”

“I’m still sorry. I’ll buy you some cream for it tomorrow, I checked for mine earlier but I’m all out.”

“If you didn’t spar like a wild animal you wouldn’t end up with so many bruises that you go through it every single month,” Meng Yao tuts. “I bought some for you last time I stocked up on your workout stuff. It’s in the hall closet with the first aid kit.”

“Oh. Want me to go get it?”

“In a minute.”

Nie Mingjue stays put between his knees and holds the ice pack to his cheek with unbearable tenderness, gently pressing and occasionally lifting it for a moment to make sure his skin doesn’t get too cold. The microwave dings and Nie Mingjue waits long enough for the food to cool back down a little before he retreats to grab it for him and set it at the table with cutlery and a glass of water. Though he doesn’t need it, Meng Yao allows Nie Mingjue to help him down from the counter and continue fussing over him as he does his best to eat. He chews on the unbruised side of his mouth but it still hurts and by the time he’s finished he’s completely drained, everything catching up to him at once.

“Let’s go to sleep,” Nie Mingjue says quietly, and who is Meng Yao to argue such an appealing prospect? He knows he’ll have to tell Nie Mingjue what happened this afternoon at some point very soon, but for tonight he can let Nie Mingjue help him upstairs, and help him get changed, and settled in their bed. He can lie there snuggled up under their mountain of soft blankets and let Nie Mingjue carefully rub his fancy herby-smelling bruise cream into the mark on his cheek, and he can fall asleep with Nie Mingjue still holding the ice pack to his skin and pressing soft kisses to his forehead. Everything else can wait, the important thing is that for the first time since he started all of this he can begin to believe that he doesn’t actually have to do it alone.

[PREVIOUS] [NEXT]

#the untamed fanfic #3zun #Nie Mingjue #Lan Xichen #Meng Yao #Modern AU #Seriously so sorry for the delay on this chapter y'all #I hit a wall and I was just like so damn tired every day and I wanted to write but my brain just said nope #No ideas for you #and then even once I had ideas my brain was like hey you know what's fun?#Writing a sentence or two and then feeling like we're gonna die if we don't scroll tumblr #you know what's even funner than that? rereading your last few sentences and then not writing a word #but anyway have another 10k behemoth of a chapter because I can outsmart my own brain HA #take THAT executive dysfunction you BITCH #anyways #also this only vaguely resembles the sunshot campaign now whoops #I'm in the timeline sandbox just flinging sand right out of it now #it's my timeline now

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echoes-of-the-clockwork · 3 years

Text

Book One: Gold (Prompto x Reader) Chapter II

An entire week has past since the fall of Insomnia. The group made it to the Duscae region after destroying the Norduscaean Blockade alongside Cor. After leaving the Leide region, Gladio desperately wanted to rendezvous with his younger sister, Iris, but they were quickly diverted away from Lestallum when Prompto begged Noctis to head to Wiz Chocobo Post to see the chocobos. The prince was eager to see the chocobos, but not as much as his best friend.

A few minutes passed and the Regalia pulled up to Wiz Chocobo Post. Prompto, who was jittery with excitement, scrambled out of the car. "Now this is what I'm talkin' about!"

"The kid's got it bad," Gladio commented as he stepped out of the car.

"There are worse vices, I suppose," Ignis said, shutting the door behind him.

Prompto bounded over to the pens with his camera in hand. While taking pictures of the yellow birds, he realized how frightened they were and had no idea why. He pushed aside the birds' strange behavior and walked over to an older gentleman as Noctis joined him. "'Scuse me. We'd like to ride the chocobos."

"The chocobos, huh?" Wiz hummed, glancing at the blonde. "I hate to break this to y'all, but we can't permit our birds to leave the post. Not while Deadeye's still about. He's an uncommonly ferocious behemoth that's taken to prowlin' these parts of late. His scent makes our birds nervous, an' to prevent accidents an' tragedies, we have no choice but to suspend rentals. But hold on, now-ain't you lads the hunters that've been makin' a mark? You reckon you could handle the likes of Deadeye? If you could bring the beast down, there'd be a reward in it for ya. But knowin' the danger, I wouldn't blame ya for sayin' no."

Noctis glances at the hunting poster and noticed the large sum of gil being offered to whoever slew the behemoth. He turned back to Wiz and crossed his arms with a confident smirk. "We'll do it."

Prompto blinked rapidly in shock. "We will?!"

"Yeah," Noctis replied. "We need the money, anyway."

The blonde jabbed his finger at the image of Deadeye. "That thing is huge! Do you really think we can kill it?"

"Only one way to find out."

Wiz nodded, respecting their decision. "I appreciate it, boys. Be careful out there. Deadeye ain't no joke."

Noctis and Prompto reconvened with Gladio and Ignis. The prince told them how he accepted the hunt for the behemoth and they didn't waste any time. They departed from the chocobo outpost on foot and headed to the Nebulawood in search of Deadeye.

As they crept closer to their destination, the sound of trees snapping in half and slamming into the ground caught their attention. The ground shook with each tree that was destroyed, but everything soon became quiet. A few seconds ticked by and the group was startled by a vicious growl coming from the Nebulawood. The group froze at the threatening sound.

"The hell?" Gladio murmured, brows furrowed together in confusion. Looking up, they witnessed more trees snap and collapse against the ground.

"Something's amiss," Ignis stated calmly.

The shield gestures for them to keep moving forward. "C'mon."

The royal retinue cautiously enters the Nebulawood, their eyes scanning over the numerous of trees lying on the ground. They step over the snapped trees and head deeper into the den in search of the behemoth. Eventually, they enter a clearing where they're met by a pack of voretooth fleeing from the other direction. Prompto gasped in shock at the sight. "Whoa! Look at 'em go!"

Continuing to make their way deeper into the Nebulawood, the area becomes blanketed with mist. They soon make their way to an abandoned stone structure with an opening large enough for them to pass through if they crouched. Noctis begins to lead the way in when they heard another menacing growl.

"Noct!" Gladio grabs the prince and gently pulls him back before stepping forward, turning back and holding out his hand to indicate he would be taking the lead. Crouching down, he entered the small space. The brute slowly and quietly makes his way forward a few feet, then turns back to motion for the others to follow. Halfway through the crawl space, Gladio heard a growl from close by and stopped. "Hold up!" Noctis, Prompto, and Ignis halt as they listened to the sinister sound.

The snarling continued as Deadeye comes into view through the holes in the structure. Prompto shudders at the sight of the behemoth and clamped a hand over his mouth to keep himself from whimpering. This was the first time he'd seen a behemoth and abhorred the close proximity. His cerulean eyes watched the creature closely as its nose wiggled, signifying it detected their presence. Due to its missing right eye, it was unable to see them.

Gladio looks at his friends, holds up a finger, closes his right eye, and taps it. ""Deadeye"-the name says it all." After a few more seconds of observing the massive animal, the shield motions for the others to follow him. "Let's move."

Prompto calmed his racing heart and evened out his breathing as he followed his friends further into the crawl space. Morosely, his calm demeanor shattered when the behemoth snapped its head in their direction.

The boys press themselves against the ground to avoid Deadeye's snout as it shoved it through one of the holes in the metal structure and into the narrow passageway. The boys remained silent as they froze. The behemoth's nose twitched again before releasing a thunderous roar. A few seconds pass and Deadeye gives up. It raises its head and roars again before retreating.

The four friends continue making their way through the passage and soon come to the exit. Gladio spotted it and quickly made his way out of the crawl space. "Here we go."

Proceeding forth, the royal retinue kept their focus on their target as they trekked through the Nebulawood. "It's weak on the right-no eye, no horn," Gladio stated.

"We'll stay in range until we can exploit its blind spot," Ignis replied.

Unconsciously, Prompto gripped at the bracelet wrapped around his right wrist. His fingers grazed the golden gemstone, wondering how (Y/n) would handle this situation. He was unaware of her true strength and wondered if she could handle the beast on her lonesome. Gradually, his mind was put at ease and his nervousness dissipated when all his thoughts were filled with the guardian.

While he knew she was always close by, he wanted her to walk by his side and not rest within the gold gemstone upon his bracelet. He wanted to talk to her like they did in Insomnia. Now, he was only able to see and talk to her whenever he could be alone and not fear one of his friends interrupting them.

Prompto unclasped the bracelet and gazed at his companions' backs. The past few days, he'd been pondering ways how to introduce them to (Y/n). Alas, he hated all his plans since he feared they would either react the opposite way he'd hope. In all honesty, the real reason he didn't tell them about (Y/n) is because he's selfish when it comes to her. His greatest fear was someone would take her away from him and he'd lose his one chance to confess his true feelings for her.

Due to his occupied mind, Prompto tripped over one of the snapped tree branches. Fortunately, Gladio caught the boy by the arm before he could kiss the ground. "Get your head out of the clouds or you're gonna lose it," the shield growled.

"Right..." The blonde muttered.

Continuing on, the boys crouch under a fallen tree blocking their path and proceeded forth. Before going much further, they come to a fence and jump over it. The four landed in a mist-filled clearing of the Nebulawood where Deadeye was prowling.

"We've got the beast in our sights," Gladio whispered, staring at the behemoth.

"But no plan of attack," Ignis added. "The behemoth should be headed back to its lair, where we can catch it fully off guard."

"Yeah, as long as we stay on guard ourselves," Noctis said.

Using their surroundings, the boys stalked after the large beast without being detected. Due to the mist, it was difficult for them to locate Deadeye at a distance and they had no choice but to follow on its heels.

Eventually, the royal retinue followed the behemoth to the ruins of a building. They stared at the remaining frame of the building as they hopped down a cliff side and land in Deadeye's den.

As they round the corner of the destroyed building, the behemoth is visible through the mist on a small cliff across the way. Ignis promptly grabs Noctis' hand and pulls him to the ground before he could be spotted by the beast. Gladio and Prompto join their huddle and discussed their strategy. Once they were all informed of the plan, they emerged from their hiding spot and faced off against Deadeye.

Prompto, Gladio, and Ignis summoned their weapons and attacked the beast, acting as a distraction and luring it towards a single oil drum. Once it was close enough, Noctis tossed a magic flask filled with fire at the oil drum, hitting it successfully. The drum exploded and the oil splashed on Deadeye as it ignited with flames. The beast howled in pain as it rampantly ran around and tried to extinguish the fire. When it neared another oil drum, Noctis didn't hesitate to throw another magic flask.

The process continued until there were no oil drums left. Deadeye managed to survive the flames and extinguish the fire from its body. The behemoth snarled, slobber dropping from its sharp fangs. Due to the previous attacks, the beast was consumed by anger and roared.

Noctis clicked his tongue in annoyance when seeing the behemoth was still standing. "Dammit..."

"This thing's still alive?!" Prompto shrieked. He aimed his pistol at Deadeye and pulled the trigger. The bullet left the chamber and pierced the beast's leg. Once the behemoth was no longer in pain, it set its sight on the blonde.

Ignis noticed where its attention was and shouted, "Prompto!"

The marksman glanced at the advisor for a split second before looking back at Deadeye. He stared into its one good eye and immediately regretted his decision to meet the beast's gaze. He took a few steps back while the others charged forward to attack it.

Deadeye leapt over Noctis, Gladio, and Ignis and charged at Prompto. The blonde stumbled backwards in a desperate attempt to run away, but he tripped over his own feet and fell on his back. His eyes widened in fear as Deadeye swiped its claws at him. Closing his eyes, he waited for the claws to pierce his flesh as he heard his friends shouting his name.

Suddenly, Prompto heard a low growl that didn't belong to Deadeye. Opening his eyes, the boy looked up and saw another creature looming over him.

Stunned, the blonde only could watch as the fox-like creature leapt onto Deadeye's back. It dug its sharp claws into the behemoth's back before sinking its fangs into the back of its neck. The larger beast tried to shake the fox off its back, but it only resulted in the fox to plunge its claws deeper into its flesh.

Deadeye jumped toward the ruins and slammed its back against the stony skeletal remains. The fox's body slammed into the stone with a cry of pain, but it quickly recovered before the behemoth could attack it. Leaping atop the cliff that overlooked the ruins, the black and white creature lowered its body to the ground as its multiple tails lashed outward in every direction. The white tips were consumed in bright flames as the fox bore its fangs at the behemoth. Using its tails, it created a large fireball and threw it at Deadeye.

The flaming projectile nailed the behemoth in the side, burning its flesh and knocking it to the ground. Seeing it was incapacitated, the fox leapt from its perch and landed on the beast's side. Like before, it bit into Deadeye's neck and ripped out its throat. Dismounting the beast, the golden-eyed fox tossed the flesh trapped between its teeth aside. Blood seeped from its mouth, but it slowly evaporated as Deadeye's body disintegrated into nothingness.

Once the behemoth was gone and left no trace behind, the fox set its sight on the boys. Noctis, Gladio, and Ignis gripped their weapons tightly and readied themselves to attack the creature. On the other hand, Prompto lowered his pistol as it vanished from his grasp. He stared into the fox's gold-slitted eyes and felt an all-too-familiar connection to it. He took a few steps toward it but froze when he noticed a shift in Noctis' position.

The blonde turned his gaze toward his best friend and his eyes widened when he saw the prince was about to perform a warp-strike. Running toward the raven-haired boy, the sharpshooter bellowed, "Noct, stop!" He reached Noctis before he could toss his engine blade and grabbed his arm.

The prince looked at Prompto in confusion. He was perplexed as to why he was stopping him. "What're you doing, Prompto?"

"It's okay, Noct," he replied, unwinding his fingers from around the prince's arm. Turning back to the fox, he took a few steps toward it. He slowly approached the beast, ignoring the protests from his companions. When the creature lowered its head and took a single step toward him, a gentle smile appeared on his face.

Prompto reached the fox and stood in front of it. He continued to gaze into its golden eyes as he lifted his hand up. The fox lowered its head further and allowed the boy to place his hand on top of its head. He stroked its fur, admiring the softness.

After a prolonged silence, Prompto spoke up. "So this is your true form, huh? Gotta admit, I'm really diggin' it!"

Noctis, Gladio, and Ignis dispelled their weapons when seeing how docile the beast became after slaughtering Deadeye. They were baffled as to why Prompto was talking to the fox in such a familiar manner.

"The hell's goin' on here?" Noctis grumbled as he approached his best friend and the creature.

The blonde continued to pet the top of the fox's head, his smile widening when it closed its eyes with what sounded almost like a purr of content. "Guess the cat's out of the bag," Prompto sighed. "Right, (Y/n)?"

"(Y/n)?" Gladio parroted the name, more confused than before.

"Well, you see... Um..." The sharpshooter was trying to explain who the fox was, but he wasn't sure how or where to begin. "This is harder than I thought it was gonna be..."

The creature opened its eyes, revealing its slitted pupils. It moves its head and nuzzled its wet, cold nose against the boy's chest to gain his attention. When it did, a nonthreatening growl emitted from its throat.

While Prompto heard the noise, he could already tell what the fox was trying to convey by looking into its eyes. He didn't need words to understand what the creature was trying to say due to the deep bond he'd developed with (Y/n) ever since they were toddlers. "Yeah, it'd definitely be easier if you explain."

The fox nodded its head before its body was consumed in a bright light. Once the blinding light vanished, a girl with (h/c) locks and golden eyes stood in the creature's spot. She smiled gently at Prompto, who smiled back. When turning her gaze toward Noctis, Gladio, and Ignis, she couldn't help but smirk faintly when realizing how tense and on-guard they were.

With Prompto by her side, she approached the boys and came to a halt a few feet away from them. Her eyes bounced between the trio, but they stopped on Ignis when she saw the shocked expression on his face. Noticing his emerald eyes weren't focused on her face, she followed his line of sight and saw he was staring at the golden gemstone embedded in her upper right arm. By his befuddled expression, she knew he had already connected the puzzle pieces. A sigh of relief escaped her lips. "This isn't how I imagined our first meeting, but it seems the explanation will be easier than I thought."

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