Probably(One Shot)

Probably

Who's fault is it?

I don't know.

It's no one's fault.

Probably....

たぶん (Tabun/Probably) - YOASOBI

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The door creaked as a young man clad in black entered the dilapidated cabin. His clothes were made of lustrous black silk. The hem of his robes was embroidered with silver waves made of finest threads, the contrast of the two colors added a shroud of mystery. Such a beautifully dressed man, matching with such a cold yet handsome appearance, one can not resist taking a double look or more.

However, the person lying on the single bed did not even turn his head. He just kept on staring at the light coming through the window.

He Xuan put down the basket of items he brought back on the old bedside table.

As if sensing the movements nearby, the person on the bed turned to the direction of the sound.

"Are you back, Xiao Sheng?"

Despite the now blurry eyes that could not see except lights and silhouette, the man gave his usual bright, sunny smile. And for a moment, the once un-aging face of a young man overlapped with the wrinkly face of the person in front of him. It was as though he was brought back in time in a flash, when this now bedridden person would hang his arms over his shoulder and drag him along with him, announcing to everyone that he was his best friend.

"Xiao Sheng?"

The person's weak, rough voice snapped He Xuan out of his daze. The moment he moved, the beautiful black robes turned into old, black cotton clothing. By the time he sat on the bedside, he became even younger than his appearance earlier.

"Mn. I brought porridge. Let's have a meal, Lao Feng."

Lao Feng chuckled, "You, really..."

Mixed emotions flashed in his eyes but he concealed it right away. He raised his still-working arm, "Then, help this old man sit up. I've been lying on the bed since I woke up. Resting can even tire you, no?" He grinned.

The corner of He Xuan's mouth raised without him even knowing. However, when it comes to this man, he no longer tried to conceal his real feelings—at least, for himself. After all, "Xiao Sheng" was what Shi Qingxuan once brought out of him. Indulging, would follow his every whim without retorting, and would smile at this person's antics. The side He Xuan tried to suppress in all those years they were together. The side that he doesn't deserve to enjoy yet couldn't help but express in order to stay and hide his identity in front of the now old Shi Qingxuan.

He held Shi Qingxuan's frail, thin hand. His skin was dry and his once, plump palms and delicate fingers had now become leathery due to the hardships he experienced in the past years.

As Shi Qingxuan gripped his hand firmly but with no strength, He Xuan's chest tightened.

After that, he took the wooden bowl of porridge from the bedside table. "The old man's grandson from the next street made this porridge."

Shi Qingxuan's working arm had long lost its vigor. He could no longer hold even a bowl of porridge so He Xuan fed him.

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The first time He Xuan appeared in front of Shi Qingxuan once again was when he first experienced losing his grip of his cane and falling on the side road.