Xuanyi has just stepped foot inside the dorm when she’s pulled into a hug so fierce she can’t breathe. However, she has no complaints and returns it just as fiercely, arms wrapping around Fu Jing, chest pressing against hers, breaths mingling as they’re finally sharing the same air again.

Fu Jing’s shoulders are shaking, and even though her face is hidden against Xuanyi’s shoulder Xuanyi knows it must be glazed with tears. Xuanyi hasn’t seen her cry so much since the show finale, and it makes her ache to know that she’s the reason for Fu Jing’s tears when she had only ever wanted to be the reason for Fu Jing’s smiles.

“Hey,” she says softly. “I’m…” Back. Home. Yours. For some reason, her voice gives out on her and she just looks at Fu Jing. The last time she had done so, she worried that she wouldn’t get to again for a long time. Even though it’s only been a little over a week, it feels like far longer than that. She suddenly understands the meaning of the proverb that one day apart from someone feels like three years. Fu Jing makes her understand a lot of proverbs that she once didn’t.

“Xuanyi,” Fu Jing murmurs, pressing her against the door, caging her there with her arms like she doesn’t want to give her a way out.

Xuanyi tips her forehead against Fu Jing’s. “Come on,” she says, her voice coming out rather raspy. “Let’s go to your room.”

They don’t do anything except lie on Fu Jing’s bed together, curled against each other. Xuanyi can hear Fu Jing’s heartbeat, quickening slightly as Xuanyi tucks her face against Fu Jing’s neck. Fu Jing’s arm is around her, a hand lazily through her hair. There is none of the desperation that filled them last time; there is no deadline for Xuanyi to leave, no clock ticking down between them. Xuanyi feels lighter, like there’s been a weight pressing down on her and she hadn’t noticed until it was lifted.

“Jing.”

“Hmm?”

“I promised, right? That it wouldn’t be goodbye, just see you later. And this is later.” Xuanyi traces a hand down on her face, which is too thin, too hollow. Her cheekbones feel like they could cut Xuanyi’s palm, her jaw even sharper, and Xuanyi vows to take her out to eat later, make her put on the weight that she couldn’t afford to lose in the first place. “I didn’t think it would be so soon, but I’m not complaining.”

“Me neither,” Fu Jing says, leaning in to rub her nose against Xuanyi’s. She laughs, eyes fluttering shut as Fu Jing presses the lightest of kisses to her brow, her nose, her cheek, everywhere but .

“I’ve missed you,” Fu Jing whispers, like a secret.

“I’ve missed you too. So much.” Xuanyi opens her eyes and fixes them on Fu Jing, willing her to understand just how much. She thinks Fu Jing does, because she looks back at Xuanyi in the same way.

“It’s Qixi, you know,” Fu Jing says suddenly. “I feel for Niulang and Zhinü.”

“They only get to see each other once a year. We’re a lot luckier than that.”

Fu Jing tucks her face against the crook of Xuanyi’s neck. “It’s felt like years without you already,” she mumbles the words against Xuanyi’s skin, and Xuanyi is once again reminded of the proverb.

“Yi ri bu jian, ru ge san qiu^[1],” she murmurs. One day without you feels like three years.

“Getting poetic on me, Lao Xuan?” Fu Jing teases, but her voice is thick.

“Only because of you,” Xuanyi returns, and normally she might have said the words in a playful, cheesy way, but not this time. She says it seriously, solemnly, eyes fixed on Fu Jing’s, and it’s Fu Jing who drops her gaze, a flush spreading all the way from the tips of her ears to the apples of her cheeks.

“Xuanyi…” Fu Jing starts, and finishes with a kiss.

Fu Jing won’t let her go.

“Jing,” Xuanyi laughs. “I want to go say hi to everyone else.”

“You can do that in a minute,” Fu Jing says, arms wrapped around her like a child clinging to a cherished teddy bear. “Just stay with me a little longer.”

“Hey,” Xuanyi says softly. “I’m not here for just a minute or an hour or a night. I’m here for good, okay? I’m here to stay.”

Fu Jing raises her head and there are more tears in her eyes. “Sorry,” she says, furiously wiping at them, but Xuanyi stops her to do it herself. Her fingers brush over Fu Jing’s eyelids, her cheeks, and she peppers gentle kisses over her face, sweet and languid, taking her time.

“No, I’m the one who’s sorry,” Xuanyi murmurs. “I’m sorry I made you cry.”

“It’s not your fault. It’s Tencent and Yuehua – they’re playing a stupid game of tug of war and you, Meiqi and Zining are caught in the middle.”

“Yeah.” Xuanyi lowers her eyes. “Except I don’t know if there’s a winner in this game.”

“There is,” Fu Jing says, and Xuanyi raises her head. “I’m a winner. A grand winner.”

Xuanyi starts to smile. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, because I got you back, didn’t I?” Fu Jing says with a grin like she had won the lottery. “There’s no better prize than that.”

“Jing,” Xuanyi says, swallowing, and she doesn’t know what to say after that but it’s okay. She knows Fu Jing understands.

“You’re too thin,” Xuanyi says critically, pinching Fu Jing’s waist, not that there’s much flesh to pinch.

This time, it’s Fu Jing who quotes poetry. “Yi dai jian kuan zhong bu hui, wei yi xiao de ren qiao cui^[2].” Even if my clothes become looser on me I have no regrets, as for you I’m willing to waste away.

Xuanyi is the one who has to hold back tears this time. “I would have regrets. I would never forgive myself if anything happened to you because of me.”

“It’s okay,” Fu Jing says, cupping her cheek, and Xuanyi leans into her touch. “You’re back now. I’ll be fine.” She says it like a statement of cause and effect: you’re back now, so I’ll be fine. If you weren’t back, I wouldn’t be fine.

Xuanyi’s tears spill over, trailing crystalline paths down her cheeks. She knows, of course, that Fu Jing loves her, and Fu Jing isn’t shy to express it, even if she is in words. That’s okay, Xuanyi doesn’t need the words, she can see them in Fu Jing’s eyes, feel them in her touch, taste them in her kiss. Because of Fu Jing, she knows what love is like in multiple senses.

“Hey,” Fu Jing says, sounding almost panicked. “I already cried enough for a waterfall. If you join in, we’re going to flood this place.”

“We’re Rocket Girls, right? I’m sure we can heat up the place to prevent that from happening.”

“We’re Rocket Girls,” Fu Jing agrees, and her kiss tastes like tears, love, home.

A/N:  [1] 一日不见，如隔三秋, literally “a day without seeing you is like three autumns apart.”

[2]衣带渐宽终不悔，为伊消得人憔悴, from the poem 蝶恋花 (Die Lian Hua) by 柳永 (Liu Yong). I tried to find an English translation of the poem, but I couldn't find a good one. (I thought about translating it myself for two seconds and then almost cracked a rib laughing.)