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"Do you love me?"
Yut Lung is a drunken mess, red wine spilling from the rim of his glass and over his berry lips.
"I care for you, yes," Blanca takes the glass, placing it out of his reach. The intoxicated boy doesn't attempt to take it back.
"That's-" He hiccups, eyes lazy. "Not what I asked. Would you wanna fuck me, given the chance?"
It makes Blanca's stomach curl with disgust. He saw Yut Lung as a child, with his youthful face and frequent tantrums.
You poor boy.
"You're drunk," Blanca states at once, lifting the boy in a swift motion. Yut Lung goes limp in his arms, laughing airily, a mess of blurred vision and ragged breath.
"The first man to fuck me was drunk." He laughs again; Blanca hears a bitter tint poisoning the sound. "I was 11, then. So drunk he could...hardly..."
It's so unlike him, this version of Yut Lung that he carries to the bedroom, salt running down his pale cheeks, hair running in free billows over the side of Blanca's arm. He's sobbing, soft and near silent, but it's audible and it hurts to hear.
"You're a child." Blanca sets him into the soft sheets, watching him curl ina futile way, black ribbons of hair a shield to the few strips of skin exposed on his unbuttoned shirt. "I'll always see you as such, long after you've matured. I will never see you in a sexual light."
Yut Lung wouldn't remember any of this by the time he awakened. Or maybe he would. Blanca doesn't know. He feels something akin to conflict settle within his chest as he gingerly tugs the velvety duvet over the boy's quickly dozing form. He lingers for a moment, watching his steady breaths, before he leaves, shutting the door with a soft click.