Zichen's crying shreds at Xingchen until all he can focus on holding his soulmate, his most amazing friend, and holding back his own tears, for he knows those would be more an alarm than anything else. They would make Zichen feel worse and, no, Xingchen does not want that. So he holds on, and regulates his breathing, and caresses down Zichen's hair soothingly.

He can't even find the words to pour out what he feels. Xue Yang used him, because Xingchen allowed him to. Because he did not question, because he didn't protect himself - he didn't protect them. Again.

And it was still his sword which went through Zichen's chest. Not Xue Yang's. Not even ... the other Xingchen's. Ah, he can understand very well if Zichen finds it easier, softer, to be around the other him. It's not him who killed Zichen. And - he has not even done it yet. And Xingchen wants the softest, sweetest only for Zichen, because Zichen has suffered enough, more than enough.

"I love you so," he whispers in the end, and doesn't let go, not yet. "The gift... just a little longer, please?"

This is hell. They are dead. They are each day in danger of pain and torture, of nightmares come to life, of causing pain to each other, or worse. And yet, like this, held by Zichen and holding him... Xiao Xingchen is happy.