History3: Make Our Days Count (Miracle)

Breakfast and Preparations

Hao Ting can’t sleep which is nothing new as slumber has been elusive since that fateful day his world ended. He’s gotten used to going for long periods without any shuteye that he’d sometimes collapse, body ultimately making the decision to rest as he kept his mind busy with coursework to avoid those moments where he inevitably had to think. Even on the first few days he'd been in the past, he kept studying, filled his head with all the subject matter assigned to his current grade, made an online freelance work profile and traced the address of Xi Gu's remaining family.

But tonight, his reason for staying awake has nothing to do with the heartache and despair that’s been his only companion over the years. Tonight, for the first time in what feels like forever, he’s not coming apart at the seams.

He’s staring at the ceiling, but for once his brain isn’t chronically running equations all in a vain attempt to lessen the agonizing pain constantly simmering under his skin. His mind is quiet, save for Xi Gu’s words before he’d stolen a kiss and left Hao Ting standing outside of his apartment complex feeling like a shuttle ready to take off into outer space from the sheer euphoria that single soft contact shot into his core.

Fingers come up to press against his cheeks for the umpteenth time, thinking of delicate long fingers and soft lips, and beautiful star-lit dark eyes. Hao Ting turns to his side yet again, heaves another dreamy exhale, trying to suppress the squeals from coming up his throat and failing.

The last time he felt this much boyish giddiness was when Xi Gu first accepted the lunchbox he’d painstakingly prepared in that other life and he’d watched— totally not like a creep, no matter what Sun Bo Xiang said— his precious baobei eat his home-cooked meal with relish.

Speaking of meals.

Hao Ting blinks at the digital bedside clock. It’s nearing 4AM. He should probably start preparing breakfast.

His darling Yu Xi Gu had been full of surprises yesterday that Hao Ting, for thirty minutes after he’d arrived home last night, had been suddenly overcome with soul-crushing terror that everything that’s happened so far was all just an elaborate dream.

But it’s not. He’s made damn sure. He can still feel the sting of his frantic investigation along his inner thigh.

He’d collapsed in relief at the foot of his bed the night before after his bathroom freakout. He came back to consciousness sometime around 2AM and hadn’t slept a wink since then. He looks to the door, suddenly unsure if he’d cleaned the mess he left behind. It was too late when he realized his seventeen-year-old body didn’t have the scars of his adult body yet, and he could have avoided injuring himself that left permanent evidence. He’s going to have to be very careful from now on. The last thing he wants is his parents finding out about his mental health issues. Hao Ting didn’t go through all of that trouble begging Dr. Jiang to not let his family know about the panic attack just to get busted in his own home.

He makes the short trip to the bathroom and upon making sure that there’s not a trace left of his late-night impulse control failure, he goes to the kitchen to raid the fridge. After making sure he’s got all the ingredients he needs after a quick check online, he’s decided on danbing and fantuan for breakfast with hot chocolate, sliced apples and carrot juice for his baobei’s snack and a hearty chicken stew on rice for their lunch.

It’s a quarter to six when his mother comes downstairs and walks in on him preparing the lunchboxes. She’s still in her nightgown, curlers on her hair and stifling a yawn as she groggily makes for the fridge when Hao Ting softly greets her. “Good morning, Mommy.”