Chapter Text
Lin Ling had always admired the color white.
It is beautiful. Both in its simplicity and practicality, it’s ability to mute, blend and pair with any colors as its chromatic duo.
He thinks its poetic, in a way. That white stains as much as it conceals.
That’s what Lin Ling sees as he stumbles forward, all senses forgotten. It’s all he sees actually as his hand thrusts out to wrench around the fabric of Nice’s flowing white cape, anything he can grab onto, anything to tangle his hand around the man diving in front of him. Anything to drag him back from the edge.
It’s the white cape that blows into his face, it’s the white hair that curls around the warm spring breeze as they teeter on the edge, uncoordinated and entirely coincidental in its happenstance. It’s a suicide grappling with this, Lin Ling knows that he is going to die with this man if he steps any further and yet, the only hesitation in him is that he isn’t moving fast enough to seize the minuscule chance that neither of them have to die today. That Lin Ling will walk away from this with at least one less guilty conscious eating him raw from inside out.
His hand twists around the ivory cotton and he tugs just as one of Nice’s leg is over the ledge and the man seems to have felt him as he tilts his head. Lin Ling’s breath catches in his throat as Nice twists just enough to meet his eyes, his expression wide like he hadn’t even thought to calculate that he’d follow him.
And then, of course, the floor gives out beneath them both and in that one blissed second, Lin Ling is suspended mid-air, two bodies gravitating towards each other in its descent, the melting sun as the backdrop for all this madness and his other hand reaches to grab Nice’s padded shoulder as an anchor and he is falling, they are falling, falling–
Until he’s not.
Something hard is beneath him as gravity hesitates, something hard being a warm body, encircling his frame with strong arms as they slow down to an amble drop before stopping completely.
The setting sun bounces off the shimmering panes and for a full beat of heart, they are weightless – adrift in the amber glow, untethered and as free as they come, the world itself seemingly pausing just for them, a fleeting reprieve.
Lin Ling whips his head up, dazed and heart hammering against his chest, to see Nice already staring at him. He sees the first crack of genuine surprise surfacing on his face, skims over his parted lips before it smoothens over to its usual neutrality and then he's pulling them back up to safety, settling them back to where they were moments ago. Before Lin Ling’s world tilted on its axis.
Nice lets him go, or more like, Lin Ling stumbles back to his feet, amazed that he’s somehow alive after that utterly reckless pursuit and pats himself down like he’s making sure what he is feeling is real, that his body is a tangible, existing thing and not–
Lin Ling looks up again like he’s reminded Nice is there too, hysteria now catching up to him.
“What were you doing?”
The hero just stares at him, the ends of his lips prematurely frozen into stasis and he doesn’t say anything. The once coiffed hair is now frazzled, snow-touched bangs dipping into his eyes, god, his eyes, and for a moment, Lin Ling had forgotten that he’s talking to Nice. The Perfect Hero.
Then, the man seems to come back to motion.
“Ah.” Nice simply says.
Lin Ling stares and then some more. Ah? Is that all he had to say?
“Ah?” He echoes, the word shaking loose from him, a breathless, stunned sound. “Ah? What do you mean ‘Ah’? You almost–“
Nice blinks at him, slow and it’s as if he’s not fully there, showing no indication of hearing his words. His eyes have gone all glossed over, glassy like he’s still seeing some distant, unreachable place just beyond the rooftop’s edge where Lin Ling can’t reach, or anyone for that matter. The cape drifts back around his ankles, settling as gently as it would a first fall of snow.
The hero opens his mouth, a visible effort. “You shouldn’t have followed me.”
Lin Ling, on the other hand, is not doing so well, his throat working furiously. “I shouldn’t have– You almost jumped, you jumped!”
Nice tilts his head slightly almost as if in a wince but the motion is sluggish, like he’s not in total control of his movements and he looks down at his hands briefly, fingers flexing once, twice before going still. “Jumped.” He tastes the word like he’s never heard it before. “I jumped?”
He says it like its stupefying, the sheer idea of it incomprehensible to him as if the words that were muttered in a fraction of tiniest exhale is the greatest mystery to him.
Lin Ling doesn’t know what to say. What do you say to someone who’ve–
“You were going to–” Lin Ling’s voice cracks and he has to swallow to get the words out. “You were going to hurt yourself.”
Nice’s head jerks up at that, startled by the abruptness – or harshness – of his words and yet, his eyes remain expressionless, his face devoid of the practiced, charming smile Lin Ling was used to seeing on the screen and it’s jarring to see him without it. There’s almost a robotic quality to him now that Lin Ling is looking at him up close. Has he always been like this?
“I wasn’t.” Nice counters and the words drag on. “I wasn’t–”
His brow furrows slightly, a flicker of confusion knitting his expression together to the first real reaction Lin Ling sees from him since his initial swan-dive surprise and it’s almost like his emotions are building up again, spreading and making itself known before his eyelid twitches ever so slightly and it falls apart just like that, leaving him staring at Lin Ling as if he’s forgotten who he is, where he is and what he was just thinking.
“Nice.” Lin Ling whispers, fear suddenly bubbling up in him now. Scared for the potential to what the hero could do. “Calm down.”
“I wasn’t going to.” Nice repeats firmly, breathless, and this time the flare of his emotions is intense, coloring his words in its waves as he crosses his arms to wrap around himself. “I wasn’t going to, I swear, I–“
Nice stops, his arms frozen around himself and looking utterly lost and Lin Ling watches all of this in muted horror, his chest tight with feelings that’s too big for him.
He helped create this man, watched the words he wrote for him spill out of the hero’s lips from the broadcasts he tentatively tuned in and remembered the warmth it sent through him, knowing he was doing something that mattered even if it was from behind the scenes.
Even if it is something as simple as writing a script to be read.
Is he being punished for some past misdeed he doesn’t know of? Is this karma getting to him, for Lin Ling to be a witness to his crumbling too? Perhaps, there is some cruel irony to be found in this.
They stand there, the silence heavy and yawning, the wind tousling Nice’s hair even further and the white strands falling over his eyes in disarray. Then, Nice blinks and something like clarity strikes through him as his gaze fleet up. His lips curve up but the smile doesn’t reach his eyes. If anything, it just seems to hollow out the emptiness in it.
“Sorry.” He says and it’s terrifying how perfectly normal it comes out. “You should head back.”
Lin Ling takes a step forward, his heart pounding so loudly he can barely hear his own voice. “Wait, Nice, you shouldn’t–”
Nice’s eyes flicker to him then, and for a split second, they seem to sharpen, focusing on him like he’s really seeing Lin Ling for the first time and that stops him in his tracks, entranced.
“The agency will be coming soon. Nothing happened here, do you understand?”
“What–” And almost in cue, he hears the whirr of something approaching in the distance.
In a quick few steps, Nice is in front of him and his hands are around Lin Ling’s shoulders, grip tight. “You cannot tell anyone what happened here, not to friends, not to your family and especially not to a blonde woman should she approach you about this. You saw nothing and you heard nothing, okay?”
“I–“
“Promise me.” Those eyes glints with something. “Please.”
How quick it is to agree to him, to nod frantically. “I won’t, I won’t.”
Nice’s shoulders sag at that, the tension draining out of him so suddenly that Lin Ling has to steady him, hands fitting against the fabric of Nice’s suit. Nice blinks down at him, and for a second, Lin Ling thinks he’s going to collapse but Nice just closes his eyes instead, lashes fluttering against his cheeks as if taking a moment to collect himself.
The whirring sound grows louder, unmistakable now as the hum of engines drone, the low thrum of the agency’s airship cutting through the air and Nice’s eyes snap open, his expression shifting instantly. The wild desperation is gone, replaced by an unnatural calmness as his composure returns in a blink of an eye. His eyes gain dimension, blue on blue layering in the light like a prism, his lips curving into a soft, serene smile and Lin Ling briefly wonders how anyone can be so beautiful.
The airship is just above them now, wind whipping around them as it descends. Nice steps back, his hands slipping from Lin Ling’s shoulders. "You should go.” He says, his voice back to its usual tenor now, his posture as poised as ever. "Tell them you saw me and came up to ask for an autograph but you didn’t have a pen so we were having a chat.”
Lin Ling swallows, the taste of alarm still heavy on his tongue. “Okay, but–“
Nice leans closer in just decimally, and for a brief, agonizing moment, Lin Ling feels the warmth of his breath as he levels his eyes on him and Lin Ling knows what people mean when they say the color ocean-blue.
“Don’t say anything.” His tone is tender and painfully human. “Just nod.”
They break off just as the airship lands with a metallic thud, and the next thing Lin Ling knows, Nice is already moving toward it. His cape coalesces around him from the landing drift and his steps are graceful, his head held high and looking like the very picture of an ideal hero and Lin Ling is whiplashed by how quickly he seems to morph between emotions, how easy it is to believe him when the light frames his face just so and he would look at you with that dazzling smile that reassures you, ‘everything will be fine’.
Lin Ling is shoved aside as agents flood the rooftop, surrounding Nice, their voices overlapping in their urgency to bombard him with questions. One of them grabs Lin Ling by the arm, spinning him around and Lin Ling stifles a wince. "What the hell are you doing here? Unauthorized personnel aren’t allowed in restricted areas."
“I–“ He realizes he can’t say he works here anymore when he just got fired.
His voice wavers slightly but the lie is already on his lips. "I was just out for a walk and saw–”
The agent stares at him before a flicker of recognition filters onto her face. “Hey, wait a minute, I know you. Aren’t you on the marketing team–“ She frowns. “What’s your name?"
"Lin Ling.” He answers with defeat, the words barely more than a whisper.
From the corner of his eye, he sees Nice pause, his shoulders going taut even as the agents usher him away. He turns his head slightly, just enough for Lin Ling to see the way his eyes go to him, his lips parting ever so slightly. Then he’s gone, swallowed up by the swarm of agents and the gleaming hull of the airship.
The last thing Lin Ling sees is that white cape vanishing behind the closing doors.
Despite it all, Lin Ling remains unemployed.
His days are spent drifting between job interviews and coffee shops, watching the sun slant through the glass as the pen in his hand crosses out another job posting.
He’s gone back to the same café three days in a row now, the one with the uncomfortable wooden chairs and a barista who always adds or subtracts a letter from his name but the coffee is good and the pastries are okay and at the very least, it’s somewhere for him to sit and think. Or not think.
Today, the café is less crowded than usual, which is saying something because it is fairly empty in the first place. The afternoon light glares through the windows, bouncing off the glass panes and making the place feel oversaturated in its illumination but he can’t complain about getting natural lighting when he barely saw of it during the time he worked in Treeman.
Lin Ling pauses and he resists the urge to sigh, feeling his energy dampen just by the thought of it. Whenever he thinks back to his previous job, his mind couldn’t help but drift to one particular hero often, wondering what he’s doing. How he’s feeling.
Just as Nice had kindly suggested, Lin Ling kept his mouth shut and his head lowered and thankfully, no secret agents or government officials came hunting him down and his days are back to its monotonous consistency. Hurray.
His pen drags over the print ads, ink bleeding into the paper as he shoots down another slot because it’s on the other side of the city, trying to keep his thoughts from straying to the rooftop, to the way Nice’s hair blew around him like a storm and to the look in his eyes as he said ‘I wasn’t going to’.
Lin Ling really does sigh then, the tip of his pen stalling. The worst of his thoughts reared its head the first few days when Lin Ling half-expected to wake up to the thing he dreaded, checking and gleaning the news with anxiety unlike anything else.
In a way, he felt responsible. Like he'd seen something he shouldn't be privy to but now that he knows about it, he has to get involved. Call it survivor's guilt or something.
The pen moves to circle around another potential offer. It has to be hard, he thinks, to go through something as harrowing as that. And for someone like him who’s expected to bounce back quickly, he just can’t imagine the toll it has on his mental health or anyone's for that matter. He circles once more.
Lin Ling is not-brooding when the previously gibberish program finishes its merry jingle and a new sound fills the cafe.
“–and now, ladies and gentlemen, let’s welcome the uprising hero, Nice–“
Lin Ling looks up immediately, eyes wide as he watches the news anchor usher in the said hero to the filming studio, beaming as Nice makes his way to the seat with a friendly wave.
The barista behind the counter is also focusing on the screen now. Lin Ling looks at the corner of the television where the time is, wondering if it was a live broadcast but realizes it’s a repeat of the morning news. So this was probably filmed this morning.
His eyes fleet back to the centre and he watches them converse.
...He looks well. The news anchor does an excellent job at asking critical questions that Nice gives equally compelling answers to. The more he looks, the more Lin Ling realizes that there seems to be an almost thin layer of radiance to him that clings to his countenance even through the monitor and he half-wonders whether it’s true to how he’s actually feeling. He hopes it is.
“So, Mister Nice.” The news anchor begins, leaning forward just enough to convey personal interest, her polished smile firmly in place. “You’ve been all over the city lately. The charity galas, the press tours, oh, and not to mention the endless conferences and the assemblies mandatory for The Commission. It's almost like you’re everywhere all at once! Tell us, what fuels and keeps you going?”
Nice laughs, the sound warm and easy. “I guess I just don’t like sitting still.” He leans back in the chair. “Always something to do. Someone to save.”
“That’s true.” The anchor agrees easily. “You’ve always been the go-getter type and the people love it. But tell me, with all that running around, do you ever take a moment to…oh, I don’t know, just stop and look around? Take time for yourself?”
The smile on Nice's face sways just so – a little blink, a mo of a pause. Then, it shifts and everything is back to normal. “Actually, yes.” He muses, yet voice softer. “Recently, I’ve been…noticing things I hadn’t before.”
“Oh?”
“Shocking, I know.” Nice’s gaze drops like he’s looking at something just out of frame. “People. Places.” He looks back up. “Sometimes, things you don't even think to look for just, well, shows up.”
The anchor laughs, leaning forward and eyes glittering. “Are we talking about a certain someone?”
Nice’s smile doesn’t budge. “Perhaps. Or maybe I just need to get out more.” He says and shoots a wink so smooth, the studio audience chuckles and hoots without a cue. “I’ve been told I need to relax.”
“Ah, yes.” The anchor nods sagely. “Life after hero work. You know, a lot of people think you and Moon are planning something big–”
Nice’s expression really shifts then, a touch, and stays that way. “Oh, Moon and I have plenty of things in the works.” His voice lilts and it's just the right amount of charming and disarming and Lin Ling frowns. Seriously, when was he a flirt? “But it’s nothing I can talk about just yet.”
There’s a murmur of approval from the studio audience and the anchor beams just as much. “Well, we’ll be keeping an eye out. You always know how to keep us on our toes, Mister Nice.”
His smile widens and it's fixed to be all blinding and perfect as always. “Wouldn’t be much of a hero if I didn’t.”
The program switches to commercials after the anchor bids them temporary goodbye and the barista heaves a dreamy sigh before walking off the counter to the backroom to pick something up, probably, and Lin Ling’s eyes linger to where Nice’s face was a moment before he too looks away.
A lot of...odd choice of words for a hero like Nice and he wonders who's writing his script this time. Lin Ling distinctly remembers the instructions he'd been given when he was tasked to write his script during his earlier campaigns, when execs were still 'fleshing out' his character and they established that there'll be a certain cadence to him every scriptwriter that is working with him needs to adhere to.
'Nice talks in a polite, reserved, almost careful manner with equal reticence in his demeanor and an air of passivity'.
Lin Ling thought of it inhumane. How can anyone be shoved into a box and expected to behave that way for the rest of their career? The brunette knows he'd bust an artery before he makes it past the first week were he in Nice's position.
Here, though, he's almost opposite of that. Relaxed, teasing and his sentences sounds almost...informal. Personal. Was the production team changing strategies with Nice? He hopes they are, let the guy have some room to breath.
Realizing he's thinking about it too much once again and straying from what he actually needs to think of, he reaches to rubs his eyes and swirls the last of his coffee around the bottom of the cup, ruminating on how long he can stretch out a drink before they ask him to leave as he shuffles the magazine to a different page, crossing out the job listings he already called or got declined.
While all of this happens, as Lin Ling is actively berating his mind to focus at the task at hand, he fails to notice that someone is already staring at him outside the café.
When the chiming bell above the door jingles, Lin Ling doesn’t look up. No, he’s too busy watching the coffee stain the paper in the shape of the cup and calculating whether he can take a 9-5 and a 5-9 back to back, if he can just stretch himself thin for a while until–
“Lin Ling.”
He doesn’t startle but he does stop thinking because he just heard that voice from the TV.
Nice, Nice, stands in front of him, framed by the honeyed afternoon light streaming through the glass with a coat pressed and draped over the broad shoulders, his hair swept back more than usual and his eyes dark and watchful. There’s that subtle shine to him, a careful artifice that makes Lin Ling feel unkempt in his own wrinkled shirt and faded jeans.
In all honesty, he doesn’t look like he belongs here or frankly anywhere else that isn’t spotlighted, gilded, and full of people fawning over him but here he is.
They stare at each other for a bit and that perfect, too-white smile etches onto his face and it truly is blinding. “Aren’t you going to say anything?”
Lin Ling realizes his mouth is dry and swallows. His gaze then darts to the magazine spread in front of him. WANTED: Event Planner. 9-5, Mon-Sat. Must have references. He quickly flips it closed. “Hi.”
“Hey.” Nice replies with a smile that actually reaches his eyes and when he takes a seat across Lin Ling, he doesn’t ask. And, he doesn’t have to. He’s Nice, he makes the space his own just by being there. “I thought I’d never see you again.”
He settles on the chair and leans forward just enough that the scent of his cologne drifts between them; something cool and clean, like rain-soaked linen and fresh laundry. His smile turns quieter. “Actually, I was sure I’d never see you after that.”
Lin Ling doesn’t know what to say, rather distracted by everything that's happening right now, doesn't even know where to look in all honesty. He hadn’t prepared for this or even thought about it possibly happening. About Nice just showing up in front of him and waving at him like they are old pals from grade one.
So, he closes his mouth, not intending to look like a blubbering fish anymore. “It’s nice to see you again.”
Nice pauses mid-lean in the chair, one arm draped casually over the backrest, the other resting on the table and fixes his gaze on Lin Ling, longer than necessary. It’s such a relaxed pose, so effortless but he can’t help but notice the way Nice’s fingers tap against the wood, just once in a single, restless beat.
“It’s nice to see you too.” Nice says finally and it is warm and easy, his tone of someone who always knows what to say and how to say it. “I came to thank you, actually.”
“For what you did back there.” The hero quickly adds, almost as if Lin Ling could ever have the possibility of forgetting what had happened on that damning day. “You were very brave.”
Lin Ling swallows again, pointedly. If he's reading this correctly and based off the knowledge he has about this particular industry, this is usually the part where he is presented with a contract and a reimbursement (if he's lucky), something legal to silence him should he go on prattling about it and he's honestly surprised Nice himself is doing it instead of his many supervisors.
Or maybe he's here to threaten him personally, that can be an option too. Maybe there are aspects to it even Lin Ling doesn't know of yet.
He shifts in his seat, feeling the edge of the chair dig into his back. “Anyone would’ve done it.”
Nice’s smile doesn’t waver. Did it sound like a lie? “Perhaps. But you did.”
He leans in then and the light slants through his hair, painting it an ethereal white. “Allow me to show you my gratitude. Let me take you out to dinner.”
Lin Ling blinks. Okay, they really changed strategies with how Nice comes off. “Huh?"
“Anywhere, anytime you want. Or,” Nice smiles. “I can choose myself. Whichever you like.”
“I–”
“I insist.” Nice is already pulling out his phone. “Give me your number.”
Lin Ling’s mind blanks, unable to keep up. The café suddenly feels small, the walls pressing in as Nice slides his phone across the table, screen bright and waiting.
“You don’t have to do this.” Lin Ling says as he looks up to meet his eyes, voice a little thin. “I didn’t do it for a reward.”
Nice tilts his head, that charming, camera-ready smile still there but something behind it flickers. It’s subtle, like the shadow of a cloud passing over the sun. “It’s not a reward.” He assures him gently. “It’s my thank you.”
Lin Ling means to refuse, he really didn't want any sort of repayment nor did he do it so he could have some blackmail material over him. But the way Nice looks at him, it's– Lin Ling feels like he's back on the rooftop, unable to refuse him once again.
And, just maybe, Lin Ling thinks, he'd be able to keep tabs on him this way, make sure he's still around and kicking.
There is a hefty lodge between them, a single instance of a bated breath before slowly, Lin Ling reaches for the phone, fingers trembling just a smidgeon as he taps in his number. He can feel Nice watching him the whole time, feel the weight of that gaze pressing down like a hand between his shoulder blades and when he puts the last digit in, he thinks he sees his smile widen just a bit.
When he hands the phone back, Nice’s fingers brush against his, and it’s a small thing – just a brief, fleeting touch – but for Lin Ling, it's enough to send a sharp fizz down his spine.
Nice’s skin is cold. Colder than what's normal.
“Thank you.” Nice says, slipping the phone back into his coat pocket with a single fluid motion. “How about tonight?”
Lin Ling echoes, caught off guard. “Tonight?”
Nice’s smile widens, teeth flashing. “Sure.”
Behind him, the broadcast finishes with the ads and switches back to the program and Nice-on-the-TV starts talking.
Lin Ling barely misses the slight curve of his brows, a facsimile of a frown but he’s gotten good at reading Nice and if anything, he doesn’t look all too pleased that even here, he has to hear about himself.
Nice sighs. Well, exhales. “Let me not keep you from your work then. Thank you again for taking the time to talk to me.”
With that, he stands up, flicks off dusts that’s not there, and Lin Ling thinks he’s going to walk away.
But he doesn’t. Instead, almost like an afterthought, he leans down, just a little, his eyes locked onto Lin Ling’s and his gaze is sharp and strangely intense as he examines him for a second.
“You know, the photos don’t do you justice.” He says after a while, his voice quiet and a smile that curves almost into a grin plays at his lips. Like he’s pleased that he's right about something. “You really do look different in daylight.”
Then, he rises up and before Lin Ling can even think of a response, Nice is already walking away, the bell chiming softly as the door swings shut behind him, his figure swallowed up by the too-bright afternoon sun.
And Lin Ling sits there, like a debris left behind a hurricane, coffee forgotten and cold, staring down at the table as if it might tell him what just happened.
Then, a thought occurs to him and he nearly falls off his chair in a haste to stand up, stricken.
Wait, how did he know my name?