'Not a thing' echoes in his mind. And then Xiao Xingchen...takes his hand. All other thought silences as Xue Yang stares at the angel before him. Hardly daring, or able, to breathe, let alone speak.

Senses filled only with Xingchen. His words. His touch. How he looks, speaking so quietly but painfully. Even his sweet smell.

Someone...else's reason...?

Horror sinks in at the last statement. He grips Xingchen's hand tightly and falls to his knees, bandaged arm flinging out to wrap around the other man's waist as he presses his face to Xingchen's stomach. Holding on for dear life as he trembles.

There is no thought to it. Just a desperate sudden need to hold on.

"You won't lose me!" He whispers fiercely, desperation lacing hot and painful even in voice and words.