“So you joined the gang?” Zitao confirmed, tipping his head to the side.

“Yep,” Wufan replied in a cheerful tone, and it was clear from his tone that storytime was over. Zitao was more than slightly disappointed – after all, none of his questions had been answered - but he knew better than to argue.

“Well…” Zitao got up slowly and brushed himself off. “If I’m perfectly honest, I really don’t know what to say,” he admitted awkwardly.

Wufan laughed heartily. “Well, I thought you’d kick me out or turn me in, so…”

Zitao’s expression was one of genuine surprise, and it warmed Wufan’s heart.

“Of course I wouldn’t do that! What kind of person do you take me for?” he asked fiercely, and it was the first time Wufan had seen any spark of aggression or anger in him. He decided on the spot that he really really liked Zitao, and he knew he’d miss him bitterly when the time came to leave and return to his own life.

However, Zitao seemed to have other plans. “Let me take you out tomorrow and we can get you looking all nice for when you meet Lay again. I want to impress him with how much you’ve improved. You were more dead than alive the last time he saw you!”  It was meant to be light-hearted but Zitao’s voice quivered as he said it.

Wufan didn’t notice, instead ruffling his hair awkwardly. “Is that really necessary?”

Zitao laughed. “Of course we can! You’re not going to convince him you’re better at all with that messy hair and your blood-stained clothes.”

“I’m fairly sure Yixing will be able to tell whether I’m better or not no matter what I’m wearing.” Wufan replied dryly, but he didn’t push it any further.

“Whatever, you’ll look great anyway.” Zitao replied effortlessly, and flounced off to his own bed.

Wufan snorted and curled up in his makeshift bed, letting his mind drift over old memories as he tried to fall asleep. Zitao’s assumptions were right, Wufan had skipped a good deal of information in his life story, but he figured those were tales for another day. He risked opening old wounds if he went back over them again as well. Banishing the dark thoughts to the back of his mind, he raised his head and stared over his shoulder down the hallway.

“Goodnight, Tao.” Wufan called softly, and put his head back down to sleep.

After a few long moments there was a shuffling and then Zitao appeared, putting his makeshift bed down and tucking himself into bed. This had happened every night since Zitao ‘packed up his little bed and went back to his own room’ but out of courtesy Wufan never mentioned it. He appreciated it though, evident in the tiny smile that quirked his lips even though Zitao thought he was asleep.

Zitao cast his gaze out the window over the dark city. For the first time in his mind he saw tiny figures scurrying around the silent network of buildings, tipping his greyscale world into motion. Their hearts and hopes were dark and colourless, nesting soundlessly among the greys and blacks of Zitao’s mind - and it haunted him relentlessly. His sleep was disturbed when it came, wracked with the tortured expressions of desperate, starving people, and the gaping empty hunger that rose to snatch their lives.