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The sky is a block of dusky grey in the distance, its muted shades obscuring all colour until everything is monochrome and dull. Zhang Zhehan lets his gaze roam across the horizon, the thick wool of his sweater shielding him from the biting chill of morning winds. At this hour of the day, the world seems to have slowed to a stop. Every sensation is amplified: the sounds of his breaths, the softness of his woolen sleeve, the indescribable magnitude of being alone in the world's infinite vastness. He feels insignificant, a speck of dust in the atmosphere, just another nameless, faceless being among 7.9 billion people. With every exhale, a little bit of himself escapes into the air, the breaths mingling with the endless painting of grey until his vision blurs and his breaths shallow.
“Hanhan?”
He blinks his eyes open. He hasn’t even noticed closing them in the first place.
“Hanhan?” The voice calls out again, this time much nearer.
Arms fall around him as a familiar body slots into the space behind him. Eyelids slipping shut, he surrenders to the comforting warmth and grounding weight surrounding him. The arms around him tighten, as if sensing where his mind had been at moments before.
Every gesture is precious. He hears it’s okay in every caress, lean on me in every hug, I’ll be here with you in every kiss. He feels safe, protected, somehow floating and sinking at the same time ⸺ floating on the immeasurable cloud of loving and being loved, sinking into the depths of his existence and worth. The feeling spreads through his whole body until it envelops him in an embrace, as solid and substantial as the man behind him. His confidant, his husband, the one who holds his heart in his hands like it’s the most precious thing in the entire world. Something crawls up his throat. It’s all he can do to swallow back the lump and blink away the moisture gathering in his eyes.
They stay like that for some time, lost in each other. Eventually, he lets all the pain and worry and defiance bleed out in thin trickles until his breaths even out. He was just about to drift off when a gasp beside his right ear jolts him awake. Suddenly alert, he opens his eyes only to feel all the air leave his lungs.
Where there was only grey, there now shines stunning slabs of red, orange and yellow, gentle yet piercing, the vibrant colours almost foreign against the dull background. He stares as the colours bloom and grow, stretching across light years of space and the canvas of the horizon until they imprint upon the very back of his eyelids. The feeling of warmth and safety returns tenfold, buoyed by the strong heartbeats behind him and the picture of light vanquishing the last vestiges of the night. Hands wrap around his, as gentle as the first rays of sunlight. He feels lips press against his temple, slightly cold from the morning chill, a reminder, a promise, and smiles.