Through The Lenses of Time ♡ Liu Xiao x Reader | Link Clink

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Liu Xiao didn’t let go of your hand. Even as the wind picked up and the last traces of sunlight faded into the deep blue of the night sky, his grip remained firm—almost reluctant to break the contact.

You stayed like that for a while, letting the city lights flicker around you, the distant hum of traffic below filling the silence. It wasn’t uncomfortable. If anything, it felt… safe.

But eventually, you spoke. “Do you miss him?”

Liu Xiao didn’t ask who you meant. He didn’t need to.

He was quiet for a long time, his thumb brushing idly over your fingers as if lost in thought. Then, finally, he answered. “I don’t know.”

Your breath hitched slightly at the honesty in his voice.

He let out a slow exhale. “Liu Min and I… we were never close. He was always ahead, always the one our father focused on. I was just there.” His grip on your hand tightened slightly. “But I watched him. I saw how hard he tried to be what they wanted. And in the end, it wasn’t enough.”

You frowned. “What do you mean?”

His jaw tensed. “He left.”

The weight behind those words sent a shiver through you. Left. It wasn’t just about physical absence. There was something deeper—something unspoken.

“I used to wonder,” Liu Xiao continued, voice quieter now, “if he ever thought about me when he made that choice. If he knew what he was leaving behind.”

Your heart ached at the vulnerability in his words. “Do you think he did?”

Liu Xiao let out a soft, bitter laugh. “I don’t know,” he said again. “But it doesn’t change anything.”

You turned to face him fully, your fingers tightening around his. “It changes how you feel, though.”

That made him pause. He looked at you then, really looked at you, as if searching for something in your expression. Whatever he found there must have unsettled him, because his next words were softer, hesitant. “And what if it does?”

You took a breath, steadying yourself before reaching up with your free hand, gently brushing a strand of hair from his face. He stiffened slightly at the touch but didn’t pull away.

“Then it means he mattered to you,” you murmured. “Even if he wasn’t perfect. Even if he hurt you.”

Liu Xiao didn’t reply. But the way his fingers curled more securely around yours, the way his shoulders lost just a fraction of their usual tension, told you that maybe—just maybe—he wasn’t entirely alone in carrying that weight anymore.

And as the city stretched before you, endless and unchanging, you realized something else.

Neither were you.