Heal These Battle Scars | MxM

Chapter Eleven - Thinking Things Through

A week later, in the abnormally quiet morning, Wang Yi lay; lazing off in bed. A foot crossed over the other, a pencil in his hand as his eyes flickered back and forth from Xiao Fang to the little sketchbook in his other hand, curving out the outline of Xiao Fang's jaw on the brittle page.

Like most days, Xiao Fang was sitting on the stool by the window, staring outside; watching the mountains in silence. At times, he wondered what went through the older man's mind during those times. Could it be that Xiao Fang missed home? Xiao Fang had told him he lived in Chongqing — the city of mountains. Yi had visited the city once at a young age, and the place indeed lived up to its name. If he would not be six feet underground before the war ends, he might visit Chongqing one more time, for remembrance's sake.

As Xiao Fang twisted his head to the left, Yi's breath unknowingly hitched as he continued sketching, detailing the dip of Xiao Fang's slightly parted lips, eyes twitching at the delicate, puckered flesh. The older man had an attractiveness that would drive both men and women wild; Yi would admit that — or he might not. It was a wonder Xiao Fang didn't have women flocking at his sight, wooing over him.

When Xiao Fang shifted in his seat, stretching his arms and ready to get up, Yi frowned, his fingers working faster, trying to get as much of Xiao Fang's features on the paper as he could before the doctor stood.

Although he didn't know what tempted him to draw the older man, the voices at the back of his head told him that it had something to do with Xiao Fang saving his life when he was on the brink of death. Though he hated to admit it, he owed Xiao Fang his life; a thing he could never repay. So wanting to outline what the man looked like didn't seem too strange to him. After all, a day would come when Xiao Fang would leave — whether in death or by freedom. At least then, a picture would be enough of a memory to remember him by. It was an honorable thing to do; to remember Xiao Fang.

"Don't move," he insisted when Xiao Fang stood, tilting the spectacles a bit higher. "Sit back down."

Confused, the older man frowned. "Huh?"

"Back on the chair," he instructed, unfazed by Xiao Fang's twitching upper lip before complying.

"What is it you're doing?" Xiao Fang questioned.

"Sketching," he answered.

"Are..." Xiao Fang wrinkled his forehead, thinking long before he replied. "Me?" he seemed to settle on. "Are you drawing me?"

"Mm." Yi hummed.

"Why?"

"I'm bored," Yi answered, smirking slightly. "Stop talking before it's ruined. I'll show you when I'm done"

"Oh," Xiao Fang pouted. "Okay."

Yi smiled when Xiao Fang squirmed in the seat, feeling uneasy, knowing Yi's eyes were on him the entire time. And though Yi hadn't spoken a word of it, during the days spent locked inside this wretched room, he had grown fond of Xiao Fang's presence, almost viewing him as a distrustful friend. It happened quickly. The more time he spent stirring up unnecessary conversations with Xiao Fang, the more he found himself relaxing, and feeling at ease. Having Xiao Fang around, taking care of him, and speaking to him with less hostility, reminded him so much of his mother. He missed having her around, building him back up whenever he felt like breaking.

Patiently, Xiao Fang waited, sitting stiffly on the stool, not knowing what else to do other than fiddling with his fingers as Yi continued, focused on the curve of Xiao Fang's eyes. When the time came, Yi's ears burned red. "I'm done," he said. Clearing his throat, he dropped the pencil on the bed before beckoning Xiao Fang over. "Come see."