Liuxian didn't let go. He just shifted his grip, one hand cradling the back of Guiying's head, the other rubbing slow circles between his shoulder blades like he was trying to ground him back into his own skin.
"It's alright," Liuxian murmured against his hair. "Let it out. I've got you."
Guiying's shoulders shook harder for a moment, but he didn't pull away. The smell of blood and antiseptic was still clinging to his clothes, but underneath it was Liuxian—clean, warm and solid.
Haiyan stood a few feet away, awkward and silent, his blood-streaked hands hanging uselessly at his sides. He looked like he wanted to disappear.
Liuxian finally glanced up and saw him. His expression shifted immediately. The softness in his voice didn't vanish, but it hardened at the edges.
"Haiyan," he said.
Haiyan flinched slightly. "Mr. Liu."
"Are you hurt?" Liuxian asked, stepping back just enough to keep Guiying in his arms but turning his attention over.
