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“I knew it!” Yanjun exclaims, immediately jumping up and pointing an accusatory finger at Linong.
Linong and Zhangjing both grab Yanjun’s arms and haul him back down into his seat before anyone in the cafeteria can focus their attention on them.
“It’s a secret, okay!” Linong says. “Besides… just because I kissed him when we went on the mountain trip, it doesn’t mean anything, okay?”
“But you didn’t just kiss. It sounds like you made out,” Zhangjing says. “Like… full on, tongue-on-tongue, hot, making out action.”
Linong grimaces at Zhangjing’s choice of words. “I don’t think he even thinks of me in that way,” Linong says as he shovels rice into his mouth.
“Yeah, right! He’s so into you,” Yanjun says with a wide smile. “He totally started it too.”
“So?”
“So—” Zhangjing shoves a piece of bread in his mouth, his eyes wide. “He’s into you. Cai Xukun kissed you first, and he’s into you. Don’t you notice how he always comes to hang out with you?”
Linong won’t deny it. It’s true and it’s obvious. Yanjun tells Linong that Xukun is late to his morning classes because he’s usually in Linong’s homeroom chatting with him. Zhangjing once watched Xukun sprint out of their classroom early just to catch Linong before Linong left school for the day. Sometimes Zhangjing complains about the fact that Xukun brings snacks to school only to realize that he brought the snacks for Linong. It’s obvious that Xukun has been trying to see Linong as often as possible and give him gifts. It’s almost obsessive, and Linong isn’t sure how to feel about it. He barely knows if he likes boys or not, and Xukun is here trying to court him every other day.
“He says I’m cute.” Linong pouts, knowing that that’s not a great excuse for Xukun’s behavior by the way that Yanjun and Zhangjing both roll their eyes.
“He literally comes from the other side of campus to come see you,” they say.
“You guys come see me too! You’re upperclassmen too!” Linong retaliates.
“Yeah, but you’re neither of our type,” Yanjun says, sticking a tongue out at Linong.
“Honestly, I’m here for the food, so I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Zhangjing gives Linong a playful smirk, and Linong leans over and pokes his stomach before turning back to his food.
“I heard he sleeps with Zhu Zhengting,” Linong says randomly, pushing around the food with his fork.
“Zhu Zhengting? Homeroom leader Zhu Zhengting? I wouldn’t doubt it. He’s clingy, you know? Like… like honey, very sweet and very nice, but sticky and messy.” Zhangjing says, waving his hand as if anything he’s saying is supposed to be dismissed, and Yanjun leans forward just a bit intrigued by the conversation.
Perhaps that’s the one thing about being friends with Zhangjing and Yanjun that Linong both loves and hates. They’re gossipy people. On the one hand, they’re always in the loop and know the latest news on anything that happens, like walking newsstands. On the other hand, they’re incredibly nosy and will get into people’s business about gossip. It makes being friends with them just a little bit exhausting now that Linong is somewhat involved with Cai Xukun, the school’s most popular semi-delinquent.
“You know, come to think of it,” Yanjun starts, “Zhengting is really close to Xukun.”
“Right! He doesn’t treat Xukun like he treats Chengcheng or Justin,” Zhangjing adds. “Like, you know how Zhengting and Chengcheng and Justin grew up like brothers or something? And they’re like childhood friends and super close. They’re like brothers, but Zhengting treats Xukun differently. I totally see him having a thing for Xukun.”
“Okay, but half the school has a thing for Xukun,” Yanjun says, and Zhangjing hums in agreement.
Having heard enough about everyone’s interest in Xukun, Linong groans and pushes his food away, a rare sight considering how a majority of his food is untouched. “I’m going for a walk. Don’t follow me,” he says.
Yanjun quickly grabs onto Linong’s wrist and gives it a squeeze before letting Linong go. Perhaps it’s because Yanjun, despite his jests and jokes, actually cares about Linong, cares about his feelings and whether or not someone might break his heart.
To be honest, Linong doesn’t know where his heart is at. His heart isn’t in his chest. It’s stuck on that mountaintop, taking its own little stroll through the greenery, smelling the misty, muggy air of the mountain. Linong would like to think that his heart is remembering the laughter he had shared between himself and Xukun—but there had been no laughter between them, just static silence and uneven breaths, bated, pregnant pauses waiting to birth an answer from questions that were never asked.
Linong walks down the hallway, wandering aimlessly between the classrooms before he makes his way into the stairwell, deciding that the scenery is too boring. What memories did they have together? Most memories of Xukun are of him turning up at events that aren’t his taste, like Linong’s singing recital. Linong wouldn’t go as far as to say he would date Xukun, but he likes him. He really likes him—to the point where even hearing Zhu Zhengting’s name makes his heart ache just a little bit. Linong leans against the railing of the stairwell as he reaches a hand up to press to his lips. He had liked that kiss up on the mountains, the breeze barely passing between his and Xukun’s lips; had liked the way Xukun’s thigh had pressed against his own; had liked the way Xukun held his hips; had liked the way he felt in Xukun’s hands—and only the mountain had witnessed their mischievousness, innocent boys playing a dangerous game.
Part of Linong thinks, Maybe we can have that again…
The sound of the door to the stairwell opening startles Linong, but he’s more startled by the fact that Xukun had come in. One side of his collared shirt is popped up, like he had gotten dressed in too much of a hurry to notice that his uniform wasn’t in proper order. Both of them stand still for a second, forgetting that there was a world going on around them beyond this empty stairwell, echoing with unsaid questions and unresolved feelings.
“Hi,” Xukun finally says.
Linong blinks slowly before nodding his head. “I should… I should go—” he begins, heading up the stairs on the right side to pass by Xukun, but Xukun reaches out and grabs Linong’s hand, stopping him—but it wasn’t like Linong was going to pull away anyways.
“The kiss…” Xukun says.
Linong expects him to add more to the sentence, but when the silence thickens between them, he figures that Xukun has nothing more to say about it. Linong glares at Xukun’s shoes for a few moments, suddenly noticing and committing to memory that he wears Adidas, before looking into Xukun’s eyes. His eyes are an odd, hazel-grey (he must be wearing colored contacts), but stranger than the color is the fact that he seems yearning. Linong doesn’t know how to describe it, but without pursing his lips, Xukun is pouting; without crying, Xukun has tears; without taking out his bleeding heart, Xukun is tormented—and Linong knows it’s somehow his fault, and he wants to change the subject because even though it’s not his fault, it feels like it is.
“Thank you… for the bread last week,” Linong says randomly. “I never thanked you for it, so…”
Xukun scoffs with a half-smile, and Linong’s not sure what to make of that. He also doesn’t know what to make of the fact that Xukun hasn’t let go of his wrist, and Linong hasn’t tried to make him let go.
“…the kiss too,” Linong whispers, barely audible, turning his head away.
Xukun’s eyes glimmer, as if the memory or mention of the memory suddenly gives him life. “What about it?” he asks, voice sounding almost hopeful. What is he hoping for?
“Th-Thank you… you know… for the kiss,” Linong says.
“Glad I could help…”
There’s silence, and Xukun finally lets go of Linong’s wrist and sticks his hands in his pockets, leaning against the wall. Linong walks down a couple steps to be the same height as Xukun, and he leans against the railing opposite of Xukun.
“Did you figure it out, by the way?” Xukun asks.
“What?”
“If you like boys or not.”
Linong had forgotten that the whole reason why they had kissed was because Linong said he’d never kissed a boy before. Part of him wonders if Xukun had learned to kiss from Zhengting, if the rumors were true, if they really were sleeping together or something—or did Xukun learn to kiss from another boy, like Wang Ziyi or Yang Feitong.
“I don’t know,” Linong says, unsure whether it’s a lie or not. A few cheesy scenarios run through Linong’s mind, wondering if Xukun will offer to “change his mind” with another kiss, or many other scenarios similar. Instead, Xukun just nods and looks at the ground.
“I heard also you’re sleeping with Zhu Zhengting,” Linong says, trying to pick conversation back up and immediately hating the topic he’d picked.
Xukun tenses at the declaration, biting his lip. From that reaction, Linong guesses it must be true then. “I was,” Xukun says, “but…”
“But?” Linong asks.
“I might break it off with him.”
Xukun talks about it like he’s dating Zhengting. Sex partners are that complicated area that Linong doesn’t know how to feel about or react to. Xukun’s not dating Zhengting—that’s fine. Xukun’s having sex with Zhengting—that’s fine too. Yet to talk about not sleeping with someone, it still sounds like a break up. Is it really fine then?
“Why do you wanna break it off?” Linong asks, more out of reflex than curiosity.
“I like someone else,” Xukun says, staring straight at Linong, and Linong’s heart catches in his throat.
“Oh.”
“I like you.”
“Oh.”
Linong knew this. Despite telling Yanjun and Zhangjing that Xukun couldn’t possibly be interested in him, he knew this, and yet, he hadn’t expected this at all. Linong stands still, a bit shocked, frozen. Xukun takes a step toward him, and Linong doesn’t stop him—doesn’t stop Xukun when he puts his hands against the railing on either side of Linong, doesn’t stop him when Xukun leans close to him, doesn’t stop him when Xukun presses his lips to Linong’s, doesn’t even stop himself from pressing back into the kiss.
Linong can smell the misty-muggy air of the mountain and hear the distant waves of the waterfall crashing; he can hear You Zhangjing’s laughter in the distance and the rustle of leaves under the breeze’s own laughter, watching innocent boys play a dangerous game. Linong forgets to breathe and is relieved when Xukun has the decency to step back for a second.
Flushed, Linong panics and says, “I should get to class.”
Xukun immediately follows Linong and traps him against the wall just two steps up from where they were. “Do you like me too?” he asks, hazel-grey eyes wide and searching—for answer, for closure. They had left things on the mountain static silent, left their hearts there for the mountain to keep safe and secret, but it seems Xukun wants to bring his heart back.
“Xukun-ge, I really have to get to class,” Linong says hurriedly, breaking free of Xukun’s barrier again, but Xukun follows him up another two steps and traps Linong against the railing. It feels like they’re a well-choreographed musical number with the way that Xukun traps Linong against the wall or the railing every time he tries to side stepped him.
“Please, just tell me,” Xukun says—begs, almost.
The bell rings, three distinct dial tones to signal the end of the lunch break.
“Kun-ge, I really have to go,” Linong says, pulling away from Xukun again.
Xukun traps Linong again against the wall, hips pressed to hips to keep Linong from running away. “Just tell me. I have to know.”
I have to know. He says it like he could die without Linong’s answer. He wants to tell Xukun yes. He wants to let him know that Xukun’s actions aren’t in vain, that they’re received and reciprocated, even in the slightest—but another part of Linong is scared. He’s so scared. He can’t be involved with Xukun—he’s not like Zhu Zhengting and Justin and Fan Chengcheng, who can all handle being popular and boisterous with Xukun. He can’t handle every person in their school looking at him and saying, “Oh, that’s the boy that Xukun is involved with.” Even at this point, where they’re just a rumor, a wisp of smoke and whispered gossip, he can’t handle that.
Linong looks Xukun in the eyes and says, “I wouldn’t be smart for us. You graduate next year, and you’ll find cooler boys to date and prettier girls to date. I’m not… ready for a relationship. I don’t want that kind of pressure. I don’t… want you to be disappointed with me.”
Xukun’s eyes look like Linong had just kicked his heart down the mountain or pushed it over the waterfall. There’s a sparkle that’s suddenly missing, and Linong swallows hard, tries not to think too hard about it. Xukun inhales a couple times, like he wants to say something, but Linong manages to pull away before he can figure out the words that he keeps swallowing.
“Maybe in the future, when we have things figured out,” Linong says, heading down the stairs to go back to his classroom. “By the way, you and Zhengting would make a nice couple.”
The words taste bitter coming out of his mouth. Linong leaves Xukun in the stairwell, not wanting to see his face, not wanting to see those hazel-grey eyes and the way that they don’t shine when the light hits them in the right way, doesn’t want to see the way that Xukun yearns for an answer he didn’t want. He’s sure Xukun didn’t want this kind of answer.
Linong passes by Zhangjing and Yanjun on the way back to their class, and Yanjun grabs Linong’s wrist, squeezing tightly as he looks him in the eyes. Linong doesn’t have to say anything for him to understand what just happened. It was just two innocent boys who played a dangerous game—and neither of them won.