Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"You, Mister No-one-dares-to-share-a-room-with and you, Mister Everyone-and-their-grandmas-want-to-room-with, room 17!"

No. This is not happening. No. Definitely not happening on the very last trip before graduation, definitely not happening when Shu Yi is still feeling the sting of coming a close second on the finals’ ranking board with only half a point difference, and was hoping the upcoming three days, two nights could replace The Defeat to become his last, lingering memory of high school.

"Teacher, I respectfully oppose," Shu Yi bites his bottom lip, trying his damn best to remain respectful as he claims to be and not just straight up spit out fire together with each word, "I'm not used to sharing a room."

"Great! An opportunity to try something new."

"But—" Shu Yi doesn't recall ever having had to share a room with another living being in eighteen glorious years of his existence, and he's really not that enthusiastic to find out how that'd go down, thank you for asking. No. Especially not when his assigned roommate is the prick whose name alone is already enough to set Shu Yi on fire... 

"Gao Shi De, any opposition?"

… because it's the only name that ever dares to stand above his, in every single competition Shu Yi has ever taken part in. Gao Shi De. Gao, ranking first in literally every- and anything like it's what he was born to do, Shi De. The single stain in Shu Yi's otherwise picture perfect academic portfolio.

Teacher Zhang ignores his fifth But and tosses a key in Gao Shi De's direction with all the grace in this world, finalizing the verdict. And all of a sudden, Shu Yi hears his life motto Second place is just first place loser echoing loudly in his head, like a wind chime from fucking humiliation hell.

Gao Shi De captures the key with considerably less grace than it was tossed with and proceeds to look like a ridiculous cross between a deer caught in the headlights (which is, admittedly, a rare sight) and a fucking jaguar ready to pounce on its prey (which is more accurate than you’d expect). Seems like he can’t decide whether to plead with teacher Zhang to be excused from this hellish arrangement or rub Shu Yi’s defeat right in his face.

So he does neither.

Clenching his fist around the room key, he just nods wordlessly in the general direction of the teacher, grabs his backpack, and spins on his heel. And then he’s out of Shu Yi’s sight. Perfect. At least he has the decency to acknowledge that no verbal communication is going to transpire between them.

With an exasperated sigh, Shu Yi picks up his limited edition Louis Vuitton duffle bag and begrudgingly drags his feet across the carpeted floor, towards the staircase.

“First floor!” Teacher Zhang offers generously like it’s not the most obvious thing. There are only ten rooms on the ground floor and theirs is number 17—surely Gao Shi De had managed to figure it out too, given that he already climbed the stairs. Not that it says anything about his intellect, and why would Shu Yi care in the first place?

He makes his way up as slowly as he can, just to postpone the inevitable, and arranges his face into his trademark expression of utmost disdain once he has his hand wrapped around the doorknob. That jerk Gao Shi De must have already snatched the better bed—which is naturally the one beside the window—so Shu Yi’s prepared to feel the sting of disappointment upon pushing the door open, but what washes over him instead is a wave of sickening dread.

What in the…?!

“Uh oh,“ Gao Shi De turns around and arches an eyebrow at Shu Yi: “One bed.“

Shu Yi drops his—repeat, limited edition Louis Vuitton—duffle bag on the nearest supposedly, hopefully, clean surface and hisses a not very friendly Uh oh my ass! at that insufferable idiot. The precise idiot that’s now standing in front of the obviously not single (and not two) bed in the middle of the room.

He would love to spend a few more minutes swearing in every language he knows at this sick joke the universe decided to play on him, but there’s a sudden idea in his mind. Shu Yi wastes no time marching over to where the bed is and sitting down on the mattress: “I sat on it first. It’s mine.”

Truth be told, Shu Yi can’t say he’s not feeling like a lame five-year-old with the whole claiming personal property by ass print tactic, but one needs to fight dirty when the occasion calls for it. And the mere idea of having to spend two nights on the solid, wooden floor is definitely loud enough of a call—because Shu Yi would really not like to conclude three years of high school with back pain. On top of humiliation.

Someone really needs to tell Gao Shi De that it’s downright creepy and rude and very not okay to stare at people with that kind of… smoldering gaze. And then, just when Shu Yi almost starts to think they’re playing some weird staring game where who blinks first would lose, Gao Shi De drops his no name backpack to the floor where he stands, and plops face first onto the bed with all limbs spread like a starfish: “I lay down on it first. It’s mine.”  

Idiot. “You’re an idiot. I’m done here.”

Raging like a full-on thunderstorm, Shu Yi staggers to his feet because he won’t be occupying the same bed on top of the same room with Gao Shi De, and because he must do something about this preposterous farce before he loses what’s left of his sanity. Which is not a lot.

He doesn’t spare Gao Shi De another glance, not when he’s crossing the room and definitely not when he’s slamming the door shut on his way out.

He’s surprised to find almost everyone gathered in the lobby downstairs.

“Where’s teacher Zhang?”

Liu Bing Wei quirks a curious brow. “Why? Is the room not luxurious enough for our little prince?”

“Shut it, will you?” Shu Yi snaps. “I’m still not talking to you for picking Zheng Wen to room with over me. Fucking traitor.”

A shrug completes Bing Wei’s unbothered expression quite perfectly. That little fucking shit. “It’s not like he could share a room with Yu Xin, right? I’m just doing him a favor, man.”

“How about doing me a favor for once instead of throwing me under the bus, huh? Gao Shi De? Really?”

Bing Wei actually has the audacity to chuckle. “To be fair, that turned out pretty hilarious. Couldn’t have thought of a funnier development.”

“That’s funny to you?” Shu Yi punches Bing Wei’s arm none-too-gently. And again. And once more. “Do you have any—"

“Alright, everyone ready?” A low, infuriating voice coming from the other side of the lobby cuts him off. Shu Yi all but bares his teeth. One does not simply cut Shu Yi off. Who the fuck does Shi Zhe Yu think he is? “Haunted house adventure, here we come!”

And—what? To say Shu Yi’s unamused would be a subtle understatement. “There’s a beach ten meters away and you guys want to go—where?”

"Did you not read the messages in our group chat?" Bing Wei informs him, "Everyone unanimously agreed." 

"Unanimously?!" Shu Yi grits his teeth and hopes to dear God no one hears his accelerating heartbeat. "Your definition of unanimity sure is interesting." 

"Come on, it will be fun," Bing Wei elbows him and half whispers into his ear, which is—no offense—ew. "We're graduating in two weeks, Shu Yi. If we don't do this now, when will we have another chance?"

And Shu Yi would like to let everyone know that he's totally fine with never having such a chance, ever. Then again, he's not entirely sure having everyone remember him as a total coward for wussing out of this absolutely pointless thrilling adventure is exactly preferable. Shu Yi looks at Zhe Yu handing around flashlights he got from God knows where, and curses silently under his breath at these dickheads and their stupid need to play heroes in front of the girls, proving themselves to be "real men" as if they'd not just shit their pants the moment they're faced with... supernatural forces. Forces that Shu Yi sure as hell doesn't feel like going up against and testing the enormity of, tonight, or any other night for that matter. 

Shit. Bing Wei looks impatient and seems just about ready to take Shu Yi's silence as confirmation of his participation in their ghost hunting quest. Shit.

"Hey Shu Yi, you ready?" 

One, Shu Yi hates how he doesn't even need to turn around to confirm who the owner of that deep voice is, and two, what?!

As if he could see Shu Yi's expression twisting into a gradual What the fuck?, Gao Shi De walks over and places a hand on his shoulder, then elaborates with a shit-eating grin: "You're not chickening out of our swim-off, aren't you?"

Shu Yi narrows his eyes into slits as he regards Gao Shi De with a mix of confusion and disbelief. What kind of slander is that? Zhou Shu Yi never chickens out of anything. Anything!

Unless it has to do with ghosts.

Even so, he’s pretty damn sure he’s never agreed to swim race against Gao Shi De today, or any other day for that matter, the memories of his ultra-humiliating middle school leg cramp incident still vivid in his head.

“For old times’ sake, right?” Gao Shi De insists, this time adding a wink for emphasis. Or as a way to rile Shu Yi up even further. Or… as a secret sign.

No. It can’t be. “Yeah, almost forgot,” Shu Yi fake-laughs awkwardly. “Sorry guys, looks like we won’t be joining you. But have fun fighting ghosts.”

Bing Wei frowns. “Swim-off?” he whispers, so that no one except Shu Yi hears him. “With Gao Shi De? Did you hit yourself in the head?”

“He does need to be put in his place at last, don’t you think?”

“Right…” Bing Wei mutters, clearly unconvinced, but it’s not Shu Yi’s problem, is it? Especially now that Zhe Yu has apparently reassumed the role of a self-proclaimed leader, rushing everyone to Please hurry up and get going, though not before raising both his brows at Gao Shi De in silent inquiry.

It’s only when everyone leaves through the sliding glass door and the tumult of their feet against the gravel outside dies down that Gao Shi De takes a few steps towards the exit, then looks over his shoulder.

“Guess you’ve got a few hours’ worth of time to kill,” he smiles somewhat ruefully and before Shu Yi can get out a word in response, he’s gone.

And if Shu Yi’s a little, just a teeny tiny bit, disappointed that they’re not actually having that swim-off, so what?

“Hey, Gao Shi De, earlier…”

“Alright, just now…”

Okay, so does Shu Yi feel like a prime idiot walking back and forth inside this dingy, pathetic, minus-three-star hotel room, practicing a speech of gratitude for almost two hours straight? Yes. And does he feel very uncomfortable now that he’s indebted to Gao Shi De for the well-timed save earlier? Also yes. Shu Yi was not brought up to have someone save his ass, then take their kindness for granted, no. He’s doing this for his own peace of mind. Or so he tells himself.

Gao Shi De, kindness, favor, gratitude. Look, it's just that Shu Yi finds it hard to correlate Gao Shi De with all those… things. Gao Shi De? Kind? To him?

“Okay, put Oscar to sleep. I’m going to shower. Bye, mom.”

Shu Yi’s indefinitely relieved that Gao Shi De is seemingly on a call as he suddenly barges in, or else he would have heard Shu Yi’s eightieth rehearsal of the same two syllables: Thank you.

“Mind if I use the shower first?” Gao Shi De asks, already rummaging through his backpack and fishing out a bath towel seconds later. And then…

Oh God. For the second time today, what in the…?!

“Can I?”

“Sure,” Shu Yi averts his eyes elsewhere because Gao Shi De isn’t, oh God, actually taking that white t-shirt off, is he?! “Go on.”

Shit. He really is. 

Shu Yi swallows dryly and tries his best to at least look interested in whatever is showing right now on the screen of his phone. Which he is holding upside down. Fuck.

“Oh and Zhou Shu Yi?”

“What?”

“You’re welcome.”

So he did hear him. For the—he already lost count—time today, fuck. 

Alright, okay, deep breaths. It’s fine! It’s just one slip-up, he won’t die only because he lost face (again!) in front of idiot Gao Shi De, will he? And so what if he was a complete ass to him back when he first entered the room? Served him fucking right. In fact, it serves him right every single time. Gao Shi De having been nice to him once doesn’t change a thing.

Gao Shi De emerging from the bathroom in nothing but a towel hanging low on his hips and water dribbling down his naked and surprisingly well defined torso, on the other hand, changes quite a bit. For starters, Shu Yi’s heartbeat. Into a fucking marching drum, apparently.

And for the record, it’s just because he was caught off guard, alright?

“Will you stop walking around butt naked? Newsflash: we’re not shooting a porn movie here. Go flash your muscles somewhere else.”

Gao Shi De offers Shu Yi a lopsided smile. “Newsflash: in case you haven’t realized, I made sure my butt is carefully hidden not to scar Your Royal Highness’s pure eyes. But thanks for noticing the muscles. I’ve been, in fact, working out.”

“Save me the details,” Shu Yi scoffs. The fuck happened to the no verbal communication plan? Also, when did Gao Shi De acquire a sharp tongue like that? It must have truly been ages since they last exchanged actual words rather than disdainful glances. Alright, fine. It’s usually Shu Yi who’s been shooting disdainful glances, Gao Shi De merely ignoring them all. “And don’t try to get smart with me. Just put on some clothes and go to bed.”

Right. The bed. There’s still just one. Fuck his life, honestly.

“Gladly. Especially as you have just kindly acknowledged that it’s mine.”

Shu Yi wants to pull his hair out. “I have done no such thing.”

And to think Shu Yi actually wanted to thank this human shaped embodiment of everything that he can't fucking stand. So he has just learned that a very, very toned chest and lean swimmer muscles and chiseled jaw—overall sculpture-like physique belongs on the list of things that quite literally would kill him (alongside his peanut allergy), judging by his ridiculous heart rate at the moment, what about it? There's a reason Gao Shi De and him are sworn enemies, he rolls his eyes indignantly. “Get off the damn bed, moron.” 

Shu Yi has also just learned that Gao Shi De dries his hair after shower by headbanging in four different directions to shake every last drop of water out of his hair, like a big dog after a swim. And no, he's not scared out of his mind when his brain supplies the cursed word cute almost instantly at the goddamn sight! Absolutely not! 

“Get off before I drag you off,” Shu Yi stares angrily into Gao Shi De's eyes and definitely not at the lean torso that's still on full display, "It's going to hurt, big boy." 

“So many words from someone who doesn't even dare to share a bed with me,” Gao Shi De leisurely leans back against the headboard and Shu Yi is utterly mortified to find himself mentally admitting—quite begrudgingly—that horrible people can also be aesthetically pleasing. Only to the eyes. When they're not talking. Or moving. Or challenging Shu Yi's entire family to a duel by spewing such bullshit as he doesn't dare to do anything. Alas, it gets worse: “Feeling threatened, Mister Second?” 

“And you're about to be Mister First—to be killed by me!”

Shu Yi grabs a pillow and officially declares war with it landing directly across Shi De's face at maximum velocity. 

“You didn’t just do that.” Gao Shi De’s menacingly rumbling voice makes Shu Yi gulp and tighten his hold on the pillow. Okay, so maybe that wasn’t the smartest move. “For your information, I’ve been Mister First all along, and if anyone’s dying tonight, it’s definitely not me.”

With that, he pulls a pillow from behind his back in record time and swings it at Shu Yi hard enough for him to lose balance and land on his knees on the other side of the bed. Wait, hold on a second. Did that sorry excuse for a man with a properly functioning brain just dare to hit him?

“I said,” Shu Yi smacks the pillow into Gao Shi De’s face again. “Get. Off. The. Damn. Bed.” A smack for each word.

“In. Your. Dreams.”

Gritting his teeth, Shu Yi makes to swing the pillow again, but he can’t—it’s stuck, the pillow’s completely and utterly stuck, and no amount of desperate pulling and tugging and yanking seems to be doing the trick. It’s only a few beats later that he realizes what the issue is and his breath instantly hitches in his throat. Uh oh. Looks like there are some downsides to his tactic, if swinging the pillow blindly every which way can be called one.

Alright, so Gao Shi De has a tight grip on Shu Yi’s pillow, too. Now what?

“Not so confident anymore, are we?” Shi De smirks and dear Lord, Shu Yi feels physically unable to ignore that vaguely attractive sparkle in his eye. Shit. Zhou Shu Yi, pull yourself together maybe? “Now onto the killing.”

Shu Yi does his darndest trying to put up a real fight, he does, but one exceptionally sharp yank is apparently enough to render him a pathetic loser, now half sprawled across Gao Shi De’s (still bare!) chest. The fuck just happened?

What happened was that the universe decided today is precisely the day Shu Yi has to lose all of his luck. And his face. All gone, thanks to the same damn idiot who's now... 

Burning bright red, apparently, from his ears to his cheeks to his neck, his collar bones, his chest, his— Enough, Zhou Shu Yi! Enough! No more tracing his eyes along every inch of Gao Shi De's bare skin! 

“Well that's one way to kill someone,” Gao Shi De attempts to ease them out of the awkward silence that lasted a whole ten seconds after Shu Yi sprang up from where he was plastered on him earlier, and Shu Yi is only subtly thankful. “Go shower, we have to be up early tomorrow.” 

“Now you're telling me what to do?” 

Shu Yi recollects some of his sanity that's already smashed on the floor into tiniest smithereens and tries to reshape them into his usual Your existence is a disgrace expression, but finds himself slowly getting off the bed and making a beeline for the shower, nonetheless.

Only to look into the mirror and realize he's not any less red than the (hopefully no longer) half naked menace outside. Fucking brilliant.

Bing Wei sure gives him enough shit for having higher demands than the general... public, calling him the little prince and whatnot, but Shu Yi believes anyone would find it hard to drift off when the fucking five-hundred-year-old, probably haunted bed keeps making creaky noises every time he so much as slightly adjusts his pillow. There's nothing even remotely acceptable about this bed, really: the mattress, the pillow, the color, the weird smell of the sheets, the duvet, and the prick who's most probably cooking up eighty new ways to humiliate Shu Yi in his dream on the other side of the bed. 

Glancing over his shoulder for what might be the hundredth time, Shu Yi confirms yet again: the prick is on the other side of the bed indeed. As close to the edge as possible. Facing away. Not unlike Shu Yi. Good.

What’s not good is that at this rate he will never be able to fall asleep, which will sure as hell contribute to the massive headache he’s bound to develop the next morning, and the resulting wish to kill himself—or at least, you know, dig his eyeballs out—instead of performing any beach activities he was actually kind of looking forward to. Fucking fantastic.

He pulls the duvet over his head in an act of desperation. Maybe if he reduces his oxygen intake, he will drift off sooner? Okay, fine, there might be some holes in that logic. Why in the world did he have to forget his earbuds the one fucking time he actually needs them?

Letting out an exasperated sigh, he proceeds to… kick the air under the covers like every frustrated (and for good reason!) person would obviously do. Stupid, stupid idiot. No, not Gao Shi De this time. Him. He’s an idiot for letting his insomnious tendencies get the better of him. If only he could just succeed in redirecting his train of thought to something other than his inability to doze off… Alas, there’s only one thing that could help him do that, but no earbuds means no—

Music.

Wait. He hears music. Silent, calm, mellow. Soothing.

Is he finally going insane? Is that what it is?

“Do you mind?” Gao Shi De, that prick, that idiot, that dumbass, half turns to look around, even though Shu Yi’s pretty damn sure he can’t see shit in the pitch darkness of the room anyway. “Can’t seem to fall asleep. Music usually helps.”

Shu Yi is not sure if Gao Shi De is referring to himself, or just reading Shu Yi out loud like an open book (which he hopes is not the case, because it's never a good feeling to find out your undefeatable enemy is telepathic), but the stable flow of rhythm does make him feel a lot better. Still, that doesn't stop Shu Yi's provoking barb directed at the prick who may or may not have just saved his graduation trip from being a hazy mix of sleep deprivation and disturbing visual images of said prick's torso: "Are you, what, two? Can't sleep without a lullaby?" 

"Mm." Gao Shi De's (surprisingly) easy affirmation is followed by a chain of quiet humming along the melody, together with some muffled, sleep-slurred words from the lyrics here and there. For some reasons Shu Yi is not ready to find out, Gao Shi De's voice almost takes him off guard, echoing as if from somewhere far away, somewhen long ago. Low, almost gentle, warm. 

Just almost, alright? It's only almost, almost nice, like this. 

Shu Yi finds his eyelids become heavier and fall shut almost too easily approximately two and a half songs later, and lets sleep take over with the final conscious thought being Gao Shi De's voice in stillness of the night, is like hot chocolate with marshmallows on top. 

Shu Yi only remembers trying with all his might to focus on, and—fine, he admits—overexert himself at the mini beach volleyball tournament, before falling down and feeling the immeasurable pain from his ankle send cold shivers along his spine. He's too fucking naive for thinking the universe was already done toying with him, or nothing could be worse than waking up with Gao Shi De's arm in place of his pillow, his face millimeters away from Gao Shi De's chest. Fuck.

And fine, fine, his first instinct might have been to consider giving in to a hazy, sleepiness-enabled, ludicrous desire and nuzzling into said chest, all sharp lines and hard muscle, but as soon as a mental picture of him doing that popped up in his head, he kicked himself in the shin, hard. Thank fuck for his quick reflexes, honestly.

Instead of letting the treacherous part of his brain take over in his drowsy state between sleep and wakefulness, he opted to tilt his head up just so, and if it was in a semi-conscious attempt to count Gao Shi De’s lashes, he really can’t be blamed. Like, have you seen them? They’re so idiotically long it’s not even funny.

In hindsight, perhaps it hadn’t been the smartest move because his mind remained stubbornly occupied with stupid lash arithmetic even when Bing Wei kept passing him the ball, as if he didn’t have a good couple of centimeters and years of volleyball practice on Shu Yi. In all honesty, he should have been doing all the attacking himself, and yes, Shu Yi would blame his ankle sprain—or whatever it is that the excruciating pain indicates—on that in a matter of seconds if he was just asked, instead of admitting to maybe, likely, possibly, having been a little too distracted by those huge, dark chocolate eyes, rimmed thickly with lashes that are—objectively speaking—just way too long.

Eyes that keep gawking at Shu Yi from across the court throughout the game and fill with something akin to anguish the moment he suddenly faceplants on the sand with a silent, albeit still dramatic, groan of fuck.

He’s clutching his ankle as soon as he manages to roll onto his back. All further curses get stuck in the back of his throat when he looks up and locks gazes with none other than the sole goddamn reason for his current predicament.

“You alright?”

Shu Yi nods and declares his attempt at tearing his gaze away from Gao Shi De's face an utter failure, as his expression twists into something Shu Yi would almost mistake for genuine worry if he didn't know Gao Shi De any better. Although, does he even know Gao Shi De at all? This Gao Shi De who's now kneeling next to him, one arm making its way behind Shu Yi's back to help him sit up in an all too decisive motion, while his other hand gently brushes the sand on Shu Yi's face away? This Gao Shi De who's being almost close enough to feel the heat radiating off Shu Yi's skin, more attentive to take care of him than people his dad has paid to do so? 

“Are you okay?” Bing Wei and the others gather quickly later, and Shu Yi suddenly finds it hard to breathe. From the summer heat and too many people circling around him, not from the way Gao Shi De doesn't retrieve his hand on Shu Yi's cheek even when there's an audience watching, okay? 

“I'm fine.” Not that convincing when it's immediately followed by a painful groan, really. So he adds: “...I guess.”

“Oh, okay.” 

“What?! That's it?”

“I mean, Gao Shi De is here,” Zheng Wen shrugs, matter-of-factly: “You'll definitely be fine.” 

The only thing Shu Yi hates more than seeing how much everyone trusts Gao Shi De's capabilities, is that he can't say it's unjustifiable. 

It's all a blur to Shu Yi until he finds himself on a sun bed, his injured foot on Gao Shi De's knee as he kneels on the sand in front of Shu Yi. As he feels Gao Shi De touching his ankle like it was an intricate piece of glass, Shu Yi starts wondering if humans are capable of blushing from their feet, after all.

He’s distantly aware of the absurdity of the situation, and he kind of knows he should be busy questioning Gao Shi De’s actions rather than getting hypnotized by how his bangs flutters softly against his forehead with every gust of the warm, summer breeze, but there’s only so much rationality one can summon up and put to use when one’s positively dying of severe pain. Yes, he’s being a drama queen, sue him.

“It’s swelling.” Gao Shi De looks up from Shu Yi’s foot, lying motionless in his lap. There’s no worry in his eyes anymore; there’s sheer alarm. “We should tell teacher Zhang.”

“So that she bans me from participating in all the remaining activities? Yeah, no thanks.”

“Shu Yi—”

“I said, no,” Shu Yi makes to withdraw his leg but Gao Shi De’s grip around his calf renders it a futile attempt. “Let go.”

“Not an option,” Gao Shi De, that entitled prick, says with a lot more authority than his status of… practically nobody—because that’s what he is to Shu Yi: a nobody, right?—should ever permit. Then, heaving a sigh of resignation, he says, voice suddenly suspiciously softer: “Okay, listen. I have a first aid kit back in the room.”

Which he actually does, as Shu Yi confirms some fifteen minutes and a lot of hobbling around while (begrudgingly) leaning on Gao Shi De for support later. He lowkey hates how his skin is still burning where Gao Shi De had his arm securely wound around his waist throughout their wobbly journey back to the hotel. And what’s up with him forcing Shu Yi to rely on him like they’re not sworn enemies, anyway?

“Just so we’re clear, I have zero experience in bandaging body parts of any sort,” Gao Shi De declares, but still gently picks up Shu Yi‘s injured foot again. “I refuse to be held accountable later.”

“Do it already,” Shu Yi scoffs, “I won't sue you.” 

Shu Yi leans back on the bed—the very starting point for this whole cursed arc of misfortunes—and grips the soft sheets underneath tightly to prevent himself from letting out any embarrassing noise. Shu Yi has learned the very hard way that as long as Gao Shi De is involved, he will very likely, too likely, most likely be utterly humiliated, either by Gao Shi De or —he admits bitterly—himself.  

Fuck, this hurts! 

Shu Yi is already dancing dangerously close to the edge of a full-on meltdown over the possibility of having to walk with a cane for the rest of his life, when the mere idea of letting Gao Shi De, of all people, see him freak out over a minor injury slaps him straight out of it. Right, he just needs to divert his attention. Right. It's going to be okay. Not sure if entrusting his life to the inexperienced hands of his sworn enemy is the firmest assurance for said okay scenario, but it will be okay. All he needs is a distraction until it's over.

And if there's anything not quite right about finding that much-needed source of distraction in Gao Shi De's mesmerizingly long lashes as Shu Yi looks down at them from this angle, he will think about it later. When he’s okay.

Or never.

Chapter Text

All that effort in hiding his injury from teacher Zhang was absolutely useless, because Shu Yi forgot that there were also twelve other tattletales who witnessed his great downfall. Having to sit out, Shu Yi quotes, strenuous physical activities when they're on a fucking beach and everything they can do is physical and strenuous, is not quite the ideal full stop to three years of high school in Shu Yi's expectations.

Despite participating in strenuous physical activities for the rest of the day, Gao Shi De is by Shu Yi’s side more often than he is by the side of anyone he’s supposed to be on a team with—something that’s also not quite in line with Shu Yi’s expectations. It’s unclear how he gets away with abandoning his teammates every couple minutes and jogging over to where Shu Yi’s sprawled out on the sun bed and watching the others forlornly from the sidelines, but he does, and no one dares to question a single thing. Which, strange. And also infuriating.

“Don’t you have anything else to do?” Shu Yi snaps upon hearing yet another question of Does it hurt? directed his way. It’s the most frequently recurring one in Gao Shi De’s impressive repertoire, and Shu Yi can’t help but wince at how misplaced that idiot’s concern is as his eyes flit between his bleeding elbow and a bruising knee. “Like tending to your own wounds perhaps?”

“What?”

With an indignant sigh, Shu Yi points at Gao Shi De’s arm. That shall do. His ludicrous need to run to their room and get a band-aid for that jerk must be nipped in the bud. Besides, it’s not like he can move, anyway.

“Oh,” Gao Shi De examines his elbow briefly. “I didn’t realize.”

Somehow, Shu Yi’s not surprised to hear that. What does surprise him though, is that Yu Xin’s best friend is suddenly in front of them, waving a band-aid in Gao Shi De’s face and… blushing?

“You-you’re bleeding,” she says with a worried expression on her admittedly pretty face and—hold on. Didn’t she use to like Shu Yi? Granted, it was before he proved to be more interested in a plate of seafood than whatever she had to say the one time they did go out, but for some reason this whole thing feels like a double betrayal.

“T-take this,” she stutters in a chipmunk tone three octaves too high for human ears, with color high on her cheeks, in a way that Shu Yi supposes most people would consider cute. Most. Not all. “I-I... I can…” 

Shu Yi blames the unsettling tingle spreading throughout him on this girl's inability to articulate a sentence without stammering on every other word. Christ. At this rate he'd be graduating college before finding out what she ca—

“...put it on for you. Can I?”

Oh. Oh. 

Yet another poor soul trying their luck with Gao Shi De before graduation, like too many poor souls already did. What’s new?

“Huh?” 

“Would you please... take this?” 

“Huh?” 

It’s a medical miracle that Gao Shi De remains this painfully clueless. Bless him.

She doesn't even dare to look directly at Gao Shi De anymore. What a shame. She's missing out on Gao Shi De tilting his head to one side, awkward and stiff like the oblivious idiotic tree of unprecedented idiocity that he is, eyes widening comically. Actually, not a shame—Shu Yi’s mind supplies unhelpfully. If she kept staring at Gao Shi De like that, maybe she too would learn the shape and color of Gao Shi De's eyes. 

And Zhou Shu Yi fucking hates maybe's.

That's why when Gao Shi De sticks out his hand to maybe accept the band-aid without a clue what it maybe implies, Shu Yi hears his mouth run before his brain can catch up: “Don't take it.”

Holy. Shit.

He's going to kill himself. Bury his body six feet under in a casket made from the skin of the face he just fucking lost. Shit!

“Huh?” Also, how the hell did Gao Shi De win every single one of their annual competitive debates?! With the impressive vocabulary arsenal of three whole Huh’s? 

“We have a first aid kit in our room. We were about to head back anyway, weren't we?” Can't fucking believe he's back-pedaling when one of his legs is out of commission, and yet. 

“You alright?” 

There it is. Undivided attention. Good. Still, he says: “Not really.”

“You seemed fine just seconds ago,” Gao Shi De squints in suspicion, then turns to his suitress, not that she would notice with her eyes still glued to the sand beneath her feet, “and we definitely weren’t about to head back to the room, I’m actually in the middle of a game. So, uh, if you could just slap the band-aid on, it’d be swell.”

It’d be… swell?! Is that Gao Shi De’s sorry attempt at jock-style flirting or is it him bro-zoning the poor girl? Shu Yi honestly can’t tell.

But apparently Shi De’s new no. 1 fangirl can, if her mouth stretching into a million-watt smile to outshine the sun itself is any indication. She lifts her hands slowly and with careful, gentle motions (and a silent prayer on her lips, Shu Yi’s pretty damn sure), applies a band-aid to the blood-oozing scratch on Gao Shi De’s elbow.

“Thanks,” Gao Shi De says with a quick nod as if he didn’t just implicitly accept someone’s entire heart, and Shu Yi can’t logically explain why his own heart feels heavy enough to drop all the way down to the pit of his stomach. But it does. “I, uh, gotta run now.”

“Jiā yóu!” the squeaky, chipmunk voice cheers, and for a split second its owner dares to look up from her toes and into her crush’s eyes.

Time seems to stand still, and Shu Yi wants to puke. Good luck his ass, honestly.

“Go, Mister I-exceed-at-everything,” Shu Yi huffs, indignant and only half hoping to ruin the tooth-achingly sweet scene before his eyes. “Make use of the gift from heaven, which is this miserable cripple’s temporary indisposition, and snatch all first places in all games like I know you’re dying to.”

“Gift from heaven or not, I would still snatch ‘em all,” Gao Shi De winks, he winks, and then he’s gone.

He’s gone and Shu Yi’s left here, metaphorically chained to the sun bed and wondering whether Gao Shi De’s really that oblivious or simply happens to have questionable taste.

Either way, ouch.

* * *

If Shu Yi having a seafood feast in front of him and yet not eating anything isn't enough testament to how unwell he is, then what else even is? He'd feel sorry for the poor shrimp in his bowl, which has been stabbed vigorously countless times now, if he wasn't feeling so unwell. Heck, if he was not so unwell, why would he bother stabbing a damn shrimp with his chopsticks like a psychopath in the first place? Why? Why?

Why is he unwell, anyway? 

He doesn't know. He doesn't really know if it's his ankle, which has stopped hurting many ice cubes and various not strenuous and definitely not physical activities on the sun bed later. Including, let's see, lying flat like a sad, sad pancake and witnessing Xiao Yue—the girl who just weeks ago still looked at him wide-eyed-ly and also whose name he finally remembers (sorry, he doesn't store irrelevant information in his brain)—staring at Gao Shi De with, well, wide eyes. For the entire three hours of beach activities. Fuck, is he really a sore loser now? 

He has never won, he guesses. Only this time, it doesn't feel like it's Gao Shi De he's losing to.

“You know that shrimp is already dead, right?” And soon you will be too—Shu Yi glares, wondering if his gaze could transmit the threat. Then again, it's not very likely that it'll get through Gao Shi De's oblivious skull. “Why aren't you eating?” 

“Why do you care?” Shu Yi sounds bitter to his own ears. Yikes. Maybe it's because he hasn't eaten, and not because of the urge to rip a certain band-aid the fuck off of someone’s elbow. “Why do you—Ouch!”

Did Gao Shi De just flick his forehead? And has the audacity to ignore Shu Yi's venomous I will end you! and... what? Steal the shrimp from his bowl? 

And start peeling it?! What?

He then drops the shrimp back into Shu Yi's bowl, almost nonchalantly: “I don't like food waste.” 

“Then why don’t you eat it yourself!” Shu Yi sneers, ticked off for no apparent reason, or no reason he’d be willing to try and wrap his head around, then pushes his bowl across the table to where Gao Shi De’s seated. Did he peel shrimps for Xiao Yue like that earlier, too? Did they share the same bowl and the same set of chopsticks, like couples usually do? Disgusting. “And stop acting like we’re friends or whatever, will you? Just because we’re forced to share a room doesn’t mean I want to breathe the same air as you outside of it too. Got it?”

And with that, plus a resentful snort added for emphasis, he climbs—literally—to his feet (or, more specifically, to his foot, considering that he’s not allowed to employ the injured one) and makes to vacate his seat when a big, warm hand wraps around his wrist.

“Wait,” that insufferable prick has the nerve to stop him. “Stay. You haven’t had anything to eat yet. I’ll go.”

“Thanks, Mother Theresa, but I’ve lost my appetite.” Yanking his wrist out of Gao Shi De’s stupidly strong (but warm, so fucking warm, goddammit!) grip, Shu Yi delivers a final punch, or stoops lower than low, depending on how you look at it, “I’m going to go wash up now and you get back to Xiao Yue’s table. Pretty sure she’s already lamenting your absence.”

Wow. Classy. But also, fuck you, Gao Shi De. You and your goddamn sea creature peeling skills. First-class, like all the skills you possess. Just fuck you.

And for the record, Shu Yi totally doesn’t feel like the biggest fucking jerk of all time as he’s hobbling over to the elevator, all profanities he knows—Chinese and Japanese—on his lips and Gao Shi De’s expression from just seconds ago still in front of his eyes. The expression of utmost hurt.

But: just fuck you, Gao Shi De.

* * *

With the lovely mental image of Gao Shi De and Xiao Yue feeding each other perfectly, skillfully peeled shrimps imprinted in his mind, Shu Yi tries to close his eyes for a much needed nap, as it's the second best option he has beside punching himself unconscious so he can unsee that stupid scenario he didn't actually see. But, might very well be happening right now. This very moment. Gao Shi De peeling the shrimps, feeding them to Xiao Yue who's already band-aided herself to his side. Great.

He stares at the ceiling theatrically. Rolls around on the bed theatrically. Spreads his arms and legs wide like a gingerbread man theatrically, just because he can. Ha! Shu Yi has the bed all to himself now. Finally, no drying hair like a dog caught in the rain, no flaunting naked skin and toned muscles and no gentle humming to music, no prick on the other side of the bed to be aware of, no—

Wait, will Gao Shi De return to their room tonight? 

“Shu Yi, are you asleep?” 

Wow, Shu Yi didn't expect to get an answer that quickly. Not an answer he's dissatisfied with, though—he decides as he listens to Gao Shi De's footsteps approaching closer and closer. 

“You're fake sleeping.” 

Fine, so maybe he did close his eyes theatrically when he heard the door open. What about it? 

“Oh, leaving the party already? Aren't you worried about leaving your girlfriend all alone down there?” Shu Yi turns to the side, his back facing Gao Shi De, theatrically. But the sting in his chest, though? Hardly counterfeitable. 

“I just want to check up on you.”

Shu Yi's blood boils. Gao Shi De could really add pretending to care to his resumé as a special ability. Could have fooled anyone, but Shu Yi. “I don't need your fucking pity.” 

“That’s not—”

“—what it is, sure. You’re just genuinely so damn concerned about my well-being, aren’t you?” Shu Yi makes a dissatisfied sound, something between a huff and a groan, then rolls over again so as to face Gao Shi De after all. “Why are you trying so hard to get on my nerves when I already told you to stop acting like we’re anything more than two names at the top of every exam rank list? Why do you keep pretending to be friendly? What’s in it for you?”

For a few beats of complete silence, Gao Shi De stares at him dumbly like the dumb idiot that he is. Eventually, when he looks like he’s finished processing, he says, calm: “What’s in it for me is that I’m going to share the bed with someone who spent the entire day frying in the sun while moaning about his injured foot, so, I don’t know, I figured I’d check if that ungrateful someone at least managed to make himself nice and odorless in the shower like he promised he would.”

“When did I ever—Are you implying I smell?!”

“Is that really all you got from what I just said?”

“Gao Shi De, I swear to God—”

“What I’m trying to say, Zhou Shou Yi,” Gao Shi De rolls his eyes (theatrically—did he pick it up from Shu Yi?), “is that I wanted to make sure you had no trouble washing up, given your… temporary disability, alright? So, did you?”

And… busted.

Look, it’s not like he didn’t try. He isn’t exactly delighted about not being able to wash away a couple hours’ worth of sweat, okay? But try getting into the shower while hopping on one foot only and then washing your hair while holding a fucking flamingo pose. He’d happily dare anyone, the prime jerk Gao Shi De included.

Although it seems like the prime jerk clearly understands that the task is impossible, or else he wouldn't just stand there, arms crossed in front of his chest, and insistently bore into Shu Yi's soul with his You need my help gaze. 

“How nice of you,” Shu Yi huffs, contemptuous. 

“Oh I'm totally not,” Gao Shi De waves a hand at Shu Yi's direction, “but you know what is? Being clean.” 

Shu Yi's jaw drops open at the sheer audacity of this moron. Heaven knows he has no patience and Gao Shi De was sent to prove it, Shu Yi is fucking sure. “You think you're real smart, don't you?” 

“Your choice, Zhou Shu Yi,” Gao Shi De shrugs, “Not like I don't have anything better to do.” 

Anything better to do?! 

Like what, intentionally injuring himself in ten other places just so Xiao Yue could stamp her claims all over him with those stupid Winnie The Pooh band-aids? 

There it is, the lovely mental image. Gao Shi De and Xiao Yue driving off into the sunset while he's here, miserably drowning in his own sweat with a grumbling stomach and stickiness on his skin that is frankly making him sick. Shu Yi looks at the useless fan, now doing nothing but propelling hot air into his face at higher velocity, and lets out the loudest Fuck! he's ever produced.

* * *

“Why the fuck are you stripping?!” Shu Yi shrieks in horror as a certain familiar looking chest comes into sight. Seriously?! 

“I already showered after the games,” the owner of said chest says while continuing to strip unapologetically, “I don't have any more clothes.” 

“I don't fucking care!” 

“Then I'll keep them on,” the intolerable piece of shit grabs the shirt and waves it in front of Shu Yi, “but I'll go to bed next to you naked tonight, walk out of the room naked with you tomorrow, and sit opposite from you on the train home, naked.” 

“Oh my God, fine!” Shu Yi winces at the mere thought and pointedly ignores the palpitations in his ribcage. “Strip all you want, see if I care.”

“But you just said—”

“Whatever!” Shu Yi snaps. God, he’s pretty positive an 18-year-old’s chest shouldn’t be this toned. His is so tiny in comparison he suddenly wants to curl in on himself and kick Gao Shi De out. But, oh well. It’s not a beauty pageant. Although if it were, he sure as hell wouldn’t rank above this infuriating prick. Then again, what’s new, right?

Okay. So now that they’re both stripped to their underwear and standing awkwardly an arm’s length apart, it’s probably high time they came up with some sort of a plan. A strategy.

Shu Yi clears his throat like it could help chase away the awkwardness at all. It has precisely the opposite effect. “So,” he starts hesitantly, half turning away from the sharp lines and subtle dips of Gao Shi De’s torso. He reaches for the showerhead to distract himself. God help him. “I guess the hair is the trickiest part. So, let’s maybe start with that? I just need—just need to lean on something—well, you, I suppose—while balancing on one foot, and then I’ll use one hand to—”

“It’s fine, I’ll do it for you.”

“What? No, I can—”

But the dumbass is already squeezing an excessive amount of Shu Yi’s expensive shampoo onto his open palm. Soon that palm is going to end up atop Shu Yi’s head, and somehow, the mental image scares the shit out of him.

It doesn’t feel all that odd when Gao Shi De’s fingers first weave into Shu Yi’s wet hair. It’s a bit ticklish, yes, but nothing he can’t directly relate to whatever he feels while a professional hairdresser does the entire… procedure for him. So, when that infuriating piece of shit grabs two fistfuls at the roots and applies a gentle tug on the pretext of properly massaging the shampoo both into his hair and the skin of his scalp, Shu Yi makes a startled little sound and very nearly stumbles backwards, smashing into the tiles. 

Thing is, it didn’t feel unpleasant. 

Thing also is, he needs to hold onto something immediately because he refuses to spread his arms and wobble for balance like a clown in some kind of freak circus. 

As tempting as the idea of having both his hands around Gao Shi De's neck and strangling that jackass to death sounds, Shu Yi would also like to leave this place with a head full of hair. So instead of crying over spilled milk, Shu Yi settles for holding onto Gao Shi De's shoulders, plotting another murder attempt while trying to ignore the burning sensation under his palms where they touch Gao Shi De's skin. Ignore the wave of tingles trickling down his spine when Gao Shi De wipes the foam from his forehead so it wouldn't get to his eyes. The way his body stiffens as Gao Shi De's fingernails scratch his scalp, careful and gentle and really not helping to calm down Shu Yi's rabbiting heartbeat.

Shu Yi can't breathe. It's like the air has solidified and trapped him inside this imaginary cage with its four walls made from high-resolution images of Gao Shi De's everything. 

Thing is, there's not an awful lot of... places to look at when his head is kept still like this, and his eye level just so happens to land right at Gao Shi De's own eyes because they're around the same height. Looking straight ahead, he meets Gao Shi De's eyes. Down, he meets Gao Shi De's chest. Sun kissed skin stretched over defined muscles—a drool-triggering, pristine specimen of perfection by any standard. 

Wait. 

No. Hold the fuck up, he gulps.

This can’t be happening. 

His heart can’t jump up to his throat while all of his blood travels in the fucking opposite direction: down. 

And just right then: “You okay?” 

Well take a guess, dipshit.

Or don’t. For the love of all things holy, please don’t. “Um, sure.”

“Cool,” Gao Shi De does that squinting thing with his eyes again, the one that says he’s not particularly inclined to put up with anyone’s bullshit. Christ. Fucking skeptic. “Then can I suggest you save the kneading for when you’re dealing with cookie dough, or something? My shoulders are about to come off.”

Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck. Hastily tearing his eyes away from the admittedly compelling (fine!) sight that’s Gao Shi De’s chest, Shu Yi redirects his mortified stare to Gao Shi De’s face. A grave mistake. The fucking idiot’s grinning like a madman. And Shu Yi’s fingers must still be curled into the flesh of his shoulders because: “You’re gonna draw blood at this rate, and I will hold you responsible.”

Shu Yi panics. It must be that because why else would he let go of Gao Shi De altogether like he’s just been burned (he has) and proceed to spectacularly wobble around on his one (1) functioning foot before inevitably losing balance and slipping on the wet tiles?

In his mind’s eye, he’s crashing to the floor with as little grace as possible and splitting his head open upon impact to the mocking sound of his arch-nemesis’s laughter. In reality, he’s flapping his arms around like he’s about to grow wings and fly off into the sunset until there’s a solid, warm arm curling around his middle and pulling him into a sturdy surface that happens to be the drool-triggering, pristine specimen of perfection, also known as Gao Shi De’s chest.

And then time stands still.

Because all of a sudden, they’re ultra-close with faces a hair's breadth apart.

And nearly naked.

And very aware, at least in Shu Yi’s case, of said near nakedness.

Shu Yi’s hands landing flat against a pair of ridiculously toned (and nice to the touch, fine) pectorals must be the perfect icing on the humiliation cake. If there was still any blood left anywhere in his veins besides the strategic point between his legs, it would no doubt rush south right the fuck now.

He gulps. Fucking splendid.

That's it. Shu Yi finally finds the one thing he would rank first in: the tendency to land himself into grade A, world class premium clusterfucks. Like now. Inside a shower cabin too small for two. Head soapy outside and spinning inside, sick with nerves, vision blurry, heart malfunctioned, with a fucking shameful boner and his face so close to the source of it he can literally hear Gao Shi De inhale. 

The solidified air is now reshaping into countless freshly sharpened spears piercing straight through his crushed pride. Sanity. The sheer ability to just... be. The will to exist.

“Get out,” Shu Yi seethes between his gritted teeth, trying to untangle himself: “Get out.”

“Let me just rinse–” 

“Now.” 

Shu Yi quietly considers applying to aerospace engineering, so he can build a rocket and launch himself to fucking Mars. He'll miss gravity, but not the vile existence of the shithead wearing an expression inexplicably akin to hurt before him. 

“Your kindness in helping people in mishaps is much appreciated,” he wriggles, knowing this is the most impractical way to free himself from the steadfast hold, but he has no other option: “Now leave me alone. Fuck off.” 

“Zhou Shu Yi, is that how you treat people who help you? Mock them and chase them away the moment you're done using them?”

“Using you?! Do you even hear yourself, fucktard?” He can't believe his ears. Oh, so suddenly the piece of shit who was the entire reason (fine, minus the daydreaming part Shu Yi is guilty of) why he injured himself in the first place, is the victim now? 

“You're being mean for no reason.”

If Gao Shi De's pathetic rebuttal is supposed to make Shu Yi feel guilty, then he failed. Miserably. “I'm doing you a favor, am I not?”

“Come again?” 

“I'm freeing you from your little charity campaign so you can return to your girlfriend. Thank me later.” 

“So this is what it’s all about, huh?” Gao Shi De’s voice is infuriatingly steady, unlike the hold he had around Shu Yi’s waist. Keyword: had. And no, not even the tiniest bit of Shu Yi, not the smallest fiber of his least essential muscle, not even as much as a single particle of his body, is disappointed at the loss of contact and the warmth that perished with it. Absolutely not. “Jealousy doesn’t look good on you, Zhou Shu Yi.”

And—shit. If he could, Shu Yi would drill through these hideous bathroom tiles and dig a fucking hole in the ground so he could have somewhere to hide from that… weirdly defeated-looking bastard and his penetrating gaze. Sadly, all he can do in his current situation is transform shame into anger and hope for the best.

Honestly though, jealous? Why would he be jealous that someone gets to touch that work-of-art chest without needing a reason? Come on, let’s be serious here. “Jealous? Me? Of someone like—"

“I thought Xiao Yue was ancient history, but apparently I was wrong,” Gao Shi De spits somewhat bitterly, turning away to grab a towel. “You dumped her yourself, Zhou Shu Yi, after one damn date!”

Wait. Hold the fuck up. Does that incorrigible idiot think—oh, sweet baby Jesus. “I did. So how about you take the hint?”

“Excuse me?”

“She offers you a stupid band-aid and you’re ready to entrust your entire life to her like she’s some fucking goddess. Newsflash: she’s really not.”

Gao Shi De stops aggressively toweling his arms dry to shoot Shu Yi an incredulous look. “How in the world did you come up with that?”

“I saw how you look at her, you moron. That’s more than enough reference material.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“You’ve been making eyes at her at dinner across the entire room, do you think I’m blind?”

“At dinner? You mean while I was peeling shrimp for you so your grumbling stomach wouldn’t keep you awake at night?”

“Luckily, you won’t hear it grumble, given that you’re gonna spend the night in Xiao Yue’s room.”

“Zhou Shu Yi, I swear to God—”

“What? Did I hit the nail right on the head? A friendly piece of advice: do remember to come back to our room early enough so teacher Zhang doesn—mpf!”

Lips.

These, are lips. 

They don't belong to him. 

Yet they are on his. 

Lips.

Wait.

This can't be—

“There, all better,” are the first words making it through Shu Yi's hazy mind, into his ears. Following that: “Can we rinse your hair now?” 

—a kiss?! 

Shu Yi's brain squawks belatedly. Too late because Gao Shi De is already rinsing the shampoo out of his hair. Not late enough for the transient yet gut-punching feeling from the fleeting... contact to disappear before his brain starts registering again. 

Which sucks balls. 

Sucks fucking balloons. Sucks all sphere-shaped objects out there that Shu Yi can't momentarily think of, because he really, really doesn't want to register any of this. 

“What the fuck?!” Great, now he's screaming. Might as well add a sore throat to top off this shitshow of a graduation trip. “What was that, you sick fuck?!”

“Shu Yi, calm do-” 

“Calm? You're telling me to calm down when you went as far as putting your mouth on me just to fuck me over?!” 

“To—what?” This lowlife even has the goddamn nerve to look at Shu Yi like he is the problem. Of course it has to be anyone’s fault but Mister No. 1’s, of course! “Seriously, what?”

“Kissing someone just to throw them off? You're disgusting.” 

“I'm sorry?” Didn't know he could get angrier until the disbelief on Gao Shi De's face winds him up even more. Ha. “You really think that’s why I did what I did?”

“Why else?” Shu Yi scoffs. “Tell me why then. I'm apparently too dumb, Mister No. 1.”

Gao Shi De takes a step closer, seemingly cares too little about making Shu Yi put his injured foot down and quite literally: limp backwards. Another step closer. And closer. Until Shu Yi feels his back pressed flat against the wall, and can’t afford to give a single damn about the prickling pain in his ankle. The very pain that according to Gao Shi De he has spent one whole day moaning about. 

“You know why, Zhou Shu Yi.” He spits out the words like they're meant to hurt. They do. “You know. You fucking self-denying coward.” 

Gao Shi De leaves. Zhou Shu Yi's heart: plummets.

Chapter Text

Shu Yi rolls onto his back, then immediately onto his other side. Kicks the covers off of himself only to pull them back up and over his head a couple beats later. Punches the pillow. Groans. Groans again. Prays for a miraculously undetected meteorite to hit the Earth so the world ends right the fuck now and he finally gets to switch off his screaming, good-for-nothing brain.

His stomach is growling, but it’s not the embarrassingly loud, hunger-triggered, intestines-generated sound that is keeping him awake. It’s his conscience. Funny, isn’t it? That fucking dickhead dares to press his mouth to Shu Yi’s purely out of spite, then runs off to his goddamn, shameless girlfriend who, by the way, seems to have absolutely no qualms about hitting on Gao Shi De right in front of her previous—as she once reportedly put it—fattest crush, and it’s still Shu Yi who ends up feeling like the biggest fricking jerk of all time. A bit ironic if you ask him.

He flips onto his stomach and buries his face in the pillow. Screams into it. Grabs Gao Shi De’s one and hurls it blindly across the room. Drags himself out of bed just to put the pillow back where it belongs. Screams again. Disgusting. He called that shithead disgusting when he’s anything but. And yes, it was a low blow on his part, making whatever point he was trying to make by mocking Shu Yi with a goddamn kiss, but deep inside Shu Yi knows he might have taken it an inch too far himself. That must be the case or else he’d be fast asleep by now, rumbling stomach or not.

And besides—Shu Yi thinks begrudgingly while pushing his face further into the pillow—it’s not like he absolutely detested it, the kiss. The peck, in fact. The fleeting encounter of two pairs of lips. Nothing world-shattering. Just a goosebumps-inducing smack of tissue against tissue. Warm and a tiny bit wet. Tingly.

Fuck. He’s going to lose his mind thinking about that idiot, isn’t he?

Which is nothing new, actually.

The only mind-boggling realization here is that thinking about Gao Shi De for a concerning amount of time is literally what Shu Yi does. All. The. Time. From the precise moment Gao Shi De waltzed into his life, to ruin it.

Huh. Shocking. 

You fucking self-denying coward. 

See? There he is again, popping up in Shu Yi's mind like he owns it. He's everywhere. In smug smirks thrown from the highest place on the podium, in fiery gazes across the track field, in "accidental" shoulder bumps in the corridor, in snarky remarks in the locker room—in images and voices, like an ever-looping film in his head. And after this trip, probably in toned chest and unpeeled shrimps, too. Occupying his mind now, however, is the honorable title of self-denying coward that Gao Shi De generously awarded him with. For reasons that Shu Yi’s supposed to know.

Damn it.

Gao Shi De. Gao! Shi! De! Shu Yi screams internally, hoping that it'd somehow free up his mind. Gao! Shi De! You stuck-up asshole! Jerk! Horrible human! Gao Shi De! Are you still with her! Bastard! Gao! Get out of my head! Shi! Unkiss me! Or maybe not! De!  

“Yes?” 

Oh. 

Correction: He screams un-internally. Breathe, Zhou Shu Yi, breathe. Play it cool. By the way, on a totally unrelated (to his urge to just jump off somewhere high and fucking disappear for good) note: is that window open? 

“Already back?” Breathe. Play it cool. “Not spending more time with your little—”

"Brother and mom?" The number of times Shu Yi's been cut off mid-speech these days, wow. But also—what? "Yeah, I just video-called them." 

What? 

“She's not my girlfriend, I didn't spend a second alone with her, congratulations on succeeding in showering with three limbs, now can I sleep?” Gao Shi De... sighs? “I've got a train to catch tomorrow.” 

Not… his girlfriend? Brother and mom? Not his girlfriend? Not. His. Girl— “Mama’s boy”

Honestly, who the fuck video-calls their mom every day while on a graduation trip? Is Gao Shi De like, five?

“My little brother’s sick,” Gao Shi De mumbles in a tired voice. He climbs into bed (he’s lucky he showered earlier, honest to God) and flops onto his back with a grunt. “He caught smallpox. Wanted to check in.”

Oh. Oh. Congratulations, Zhou Shu Yi, you finally ranked first in something—being a fucking dickhead for absolutely no reason. Gao Shi De: officially dethroned.

“You’re gonna bore a hole in the side of my head if you keep this up,” Gao Shi De turns his face to Shu Yi briefly, just to throw him an unamused look. Right. So he’s been staring. Also, secretly entertaining an absurd idea to reach out a hand towards Gao Shi De’s face and… feel the heat of his skin beneath his fingertips? Christ.

Still, all he manages in response is a half nonchalant, half helpless shrug. Huh. No spiteful words left in his impressive retort arsenal? That’s… new.

“Wait, no snarky comebacks?” Right?! Shu Yi’s confused too. “Are you unwell? Can’t sleep again?”

Really? Is that all this idiot can come up with? Also, why does he still care?

“Oh, right, you must be hungry,” Gao Shi De continues his little (unnecessary) guessing game, and Shu Yi rolls his eyes theatrically (again). Hungry? He’s not fucking hungry. Well, not for food anyway. Well, that’s not entirely true either, judging by the eerie sounds his stomach has been producing, but— “Hold on, I should have a chocolate bar in my backpack, let me just—”

Shu Yi’s sudden and unexpectedly tight grip on Gao Shi De’s arm makes his attempt to get out of bed completely futile. Wait. Why is he stopping that jerk? Why are his fingers wrapped around that jerk’s infuriatingly toned limb? Why is that jerk being nice to him even after he called him disgusting? Shu Yi’s brain is going to explode and splash all over the walls.

“I don’t want your stupid chocolate bar,” he chokes out, oddly out of breath. Gao Shi De’s looking at him like he’s the biggest puzzle in the history of mankind, and Shu Yi… actually thinks he might have a point. He’s a mystery even to himself right now.

“Then what is it, Zhou—”

“Why did you kiss me?”

Silence. Gao Shi De blinks at him. Shu Yi mentally slaps himself across the face. What. The. Fuck?

“You know why.” The intensity of Gao Shi De’s stare is almost unbearable. “But it’s not your problem. Sorry. Don’t worry about it.”

He makes to roll onto his side, hide from Shu Yi’s gaze, but Shu Yi won’t have that, not now. His body’s moving on its own when he tugs at that dumbass’s arm again, and before his brain gets to catch up, his mouth finds Gao Shi De’s.

And makes sure his lips stay longer than Gao Shi De's did earlier. 

The competitive little shit in him just has to win against Gao Shi De in something, anything. Before he bets to lose everything. 

“Not what it's about. Not your girlfriend. Not this, not that. Not my problem,” Shu Yi speaks against Gao Shi De's lips, feeling a bit triumphant to finally rip off the seemingly eternal smugness stuck on this prick’s face. “Then whose lips did you kiss?”

There, all better. The best, actually. This completely out of sorts expression looks good on Gao Shi De. Fluttering lashes framing widened eyes, trembling lips around quickening breaths, flushed pink on his cheeks visible even in the dim, yellow light.

“Whose lips just kissed you?” 

Shu Yi expected himself to freak out, not gonna lie. He expected his brain to whirl around frantically inside his skull before rushing to cook up fifty different completely nonsensical and irrational excuses to justify his action. He expected his heart to crash against his ribs and shatter into pieces before resurrecting itself just to fight his own brain. He expected himself to push Gao Shi De away, to laugh at that dumbfounded face and call it revenge, to claim he was only letting Gao Shi De taste his own medicine. He expected to prove himself not completely wrong about that whole disgusting claim earlier, call it ugly truth to shut up his conscience, put Gao Shi De back into the usual I despise your existence category, and move on from this nightmare. 

But this just feels so fucking right.

“You tell me, Gao Shi De,” Shu Yi pulls back a little, staring straight into Shi De's eyes. And yes, maybe his brain really is whirling and his heart really is crashing itself against his ribcage and he really, really wants to laugh at Gao Shi De's dumbfounded face, and yes, maybe none of this is what Shu Yi expected, but he's nothing if not decisive. Impulsive. And batshit crazy too, apparently, considering the current circumstances. Doesn’t sound like a good mix, to be fair. “We only have room for one coward around here.” 

Might as well just go all out on the craziness then, Shu Yi thinks to himself before bringing his hand up to touch Gao Shi De's face, like he has wanted to since waking up this morning. Or maybe even before that. Then again he's pretty sure he just wanted to punch Gao Shi De's face back then, so that doesn't count.

Oh.

Under his fingertips, Gao Shi De is shivering. 

“Yours.” 

It’s breathed shakily right against his lips—a simple affirmation of what’s already obvious, and yet so much more.

His.

Of course.

He’s drawing a breath of his own to congratulate Gao Shi De on his truly unparalleled perceptiveness when a mouth slots over his, again, determined despite the subtle quiver, swallows the unformed words, claims the unsuppressed gasp of surprise. Glides tentatively over the heated, slightly moistened skin of Shu Yi’s lips.

“Shu Yi.”

He leans into it, aided by Gao Shi De’s hand on the back of his head. He can’t not with how his own name vibrates into his mouth, how it tastes when he licks it right off the tip of Gao Shi De’s tongue—inadvertently, though with no regrets.

And then, cliché though it may sound: an electric shock. Gao Shi De’s tongue probing the seam of his mouth, intentional little swipes across his bottom lip. “Shu Yi.”

And Shu Yi can’t seem to put up a fight—doesn’t want to, really, their rivalry be damned. Uncharacteristically compliant, his mouth falls open around two familiar syllables that have never before slipped out without the third one to precede them: “Shi De.” Punched out and breathless, it sounds like a plea, and Gao Shi De doesn’t need to be asked twice.

Shu Yi’s heart keeps slamming against his ribs like it wants out—away from Gao Shi De’s hands that both lay claim to Shu Yi’s goosebump-riddled skin, away from his lips that are no longer the epitome of hesitation, away from his teeth that catch on his lower lip every time he gets a little overenthusiastic. Thing is, a heart is a fickle little thing, and Shu Yi refuses to put his trust in anything other than reason.

… Which definitely doesn’t explain why he’s doing what he is right now, at all.

It’s not a kiss anymore. It’s liquid heat and need and absolute frenzy, all melted into a blend of—whatever the fuck it is that Shu Yi feels, and God, the way he knows he should be putting an end to it, and yet is not, makes him want to simultaneously scream and kick himself in the face.

But his face—well. His face is busy now.

Willingly, happily so. 

Shu Yi is certain that there's something fundamentally wrong with his interpretation of Keep your friends close, keep (one of) your enemies closer, but he can't afford to care right now. Not when there's molten lava running through his veins where blood should flow. There's a hand on his nape, pulling him close, keeping him still. There's another hand everywhere—on his waist, fisting into the material of his t-shirt, rubbing circles on his back, caressing his arm. There's nose awkwardly bumping against nose, inexperienced lips uncertain how to move next, clumsy limbs unsure where they should be. 

Though there's no explanation to what he's doing, Shu Yi is sure he doesn't need one. There's no explanation, but there’s also no wondering why. 

That doesn't mean, however, that he's prepared well enough for when Gao Shi De's hand finds his, brings it to his lips so he can kiss each of Shu Yi’s knuckles while whispering: “Zhou Shu Yi, I like you.” 

Gao Shi De likes him. Gao Shi De likes him. Gao Shi De likes him. 

Caught amidst unpreparedness and about five millions What? When? How? Why?, Shu Yi resorts to doing exactly the one thing he knows he wants to do: kissing the answer into Gao Shi De's lips, panting it into his mouth. 

Oh? 

Oh.

Turns out Gao Shi De is right. He does know. Shu Yi actually knows. He does. He knows it, every nook and cranny of his being knows it. He knows it. He does. 

The answer.

As it turns out, Shu Yi is also not quite prepared for the moment he feels a certain wandering hand making its way inside his shirt, teasing the softness around his waist. Nor the moment he finds a leg pushing in between his own, giving him a rather clear idea of where all his blood—for the second time today—has been rushing to. Or the moment Gao Shi De gets rid of the minimal distance left between their bodies, pressing Shu Yi tight against every inch of his being. And definitely not the moment he feels the bulge against his hip, evidential, unmistakable. 

Shu Yi opens his eyes and finds himself still pathetically unprepared to have his brain instantly melt into soup, the moment he sees what reflects in Gao Shi De's twin voids. 

“Stop me,” Gao Shi De's voice goes a whopping octave lower, successfully fanning the simmering heat twisting in Shu Yi's lower stomach into explosive fire: “Zhou Shu Yi, stop me.” 

Too bad for Gao Shi De, Zhou Shu Yi doesn't know how to fucking obey. 

Unless he really wants to. Which, yeah, not the case.

Or is it? As Gao Shi De’s thigh slides that much higher along the crevice between Shu Yi’s legs, and his hand that’s been kneading around his waist sinks progressively lower until it settles over the swell of his backside, Shu Yi begins to wonder just what it is that he’s supposed to be stopping Gao Shi De from.

He’s provided with an answer much quicker than he was expecting to get it, and it comes in the form of long fingers splaying over his butt cheek before sinking into the softness of the flesh there, squeezing through the thin fabric of his boxer briefs.

Well, shit.

Okay, alright, hold on. Trading hate, or what Shu Yi naively thought was hate, for kissing was already enough of a what-the-fuck situation; trading hate for… whatever a hand on his butt implicates seems like a bargain Shu Yi’s honestly not sure he should take.

But: “Zhou Shu Yi,” that low, smooth voice pleads again. “Stop me, or I might do things.”

As if to specify what kind of things he has in mind, Gao Shi De grabs a handful of Shu Yi’s ass and presses him that much harder against his groin, elicits both a curse and a moan.

“Gao Shi De,” Shu Yi admonishes against the other’s lips, but it’s half-hearted at best. The hand unceremoniously pressing against his butt, clearly encouraging him to rub against the muscled limb between his thighs, doesn’t relent one bit.

And here’s the thing. As a teenager not devoid of… needs, Shu Yi’s obviously no stranger to rubbing and grinding and basically any types of masturbation one can think of that focus on the, uh, frontal parts of a male body. It’s just that in his case, said masturbation has rarely involved hands that are not his own. And by rarely, he means never.

So excuse him if he has a micro-meltdown over a thigh pressing hard against his hard-on (ha!) and a wandering hand that eventually vacates the spot over his ass in favor of travelling dangerously close to his front. It’s already cramped between his legs, and yet.

“Can I?” Gao Shi De grunts in between the kisses, Shu Yi’s skin positively burning where the expectant hand hovers over his lower tummy. “Shu Yi, God, can I?”

A nod. And then, a violent jolt of Shu Yi’s hips. Because as surreal as it is, Gao Shi De—the bane of Shu Yi’s existence, the owner of the most aesthetically pleasing chest and the most skillful lips—is touching him there.

This is fucking insane. 

How Gao Shi De leaped from the other end of the bed to not even a breath away from Shu Yi in just two nights, is fucking insane. How Gao Shi De's eyes go from reflecting challenging, unwavering composure in Shu Yi's memory to being filled with uncompromising desire in this very moment, is fucking insane. How Gao Shi De's hand goes from gently wrapping a bandage around his ankle in the day, to touching his still hardening cock outside of his boxer briefs at night—all within the same damn 24 hours, is fucking insane.

They're going too fast. Shu Yi's world is turning upside down. Gao Shi De's hand is unyielding. None of this makes any sense. 

Shu Yi wouldn't have it any other way. 

“Shi De, you—” He gasps, finding it hard to vocalize his thoughts properly for the first time in his life. Well, only fair because he's not even thinking at this point. And also because Gao Shi De is hardly leaving his lips unoccupied for more than three seconds. “It's—” 

Gao Shi De makes sure to wipe the last thought away from his already malfunctioning brain, by paying ample attention to both his ass and the—already hardened to the point of aching—front. God fucking damn it, where'd he learned all this stuff from? A little unfair isn't it, to master the art of how to drive Shu Yi off the cliff and let him free fall straight into sensory overload the very first time he has his hands on him. 

Proving to have gone way beyond only knowing how to make Shu Yi just a little crazy, Gao Shi De kisses an unbearable Sorry, can't stop against his throat.

Then again, Shu Yi is nothing but a worthy opponent, judging from the look on Gao Shi De's face when he in that very same moment decides to finish his sentence: “—not enough.” 

He can see something unleashing inside Gao Shi De. Flooding out from a broken dam. Freeing itself from where Gao Shi De had it chained, suppressed: controlled. 

“If only you could see, Zhou Shu Yi,” Shu Yi's entire body quivers almost violently when he simultaneously feels warm breath against the sensitive skin of his neck and cold air where his boxer briefs are rolled off, freeing his now definitely leaking cock, "how you look right now." 

He's totally, utterly doomed. Officially pushed over the edge. With restraint and whatever sanity he still has left thrown far out of the window and out of his mind, Shu Yi feels like falling and soaring at the same time, not really knowing where to hold onto for dear life. 

So he takes the plunge, and reaches inside Gao Shi De's boxer briefs. 

This is fucking insane, Gao Shi De certainly has gone insane, but, again, Zhou Shu Yi is nothing but a worthy opponent.

Still second-place, even when it comes to this... activity, yes, but it's only fair, considering the absurd circumstances and his complete lack of preparation, so he'll take it.

God, he'll take anything Gao Shi De decides to offer him at this point, and no, he's not fucking embarrassed to admit it. As long as it stays in his brain, that is.

His brain which seems to have entirely malfunctioned judging by the absolutely ludicrous ideas it supplies and Gao Shi De's reactions to them. And fine, perhaps cramming his hand into Gao Shi De's underwear completely out of nowhere and without clear invitation wasn't the best of said ideas, but what's done is done and Shu Yi's ready to (begrudgingly) accept the consequences.

The current one being: a sudden, complete stillness of both Gao Shi De's hands and lips against the side of Shu Yi's throat.

Fuck. He must have done something wrong. It was inevitable, given his absolute cluelessness as to what he should and shouldn’t be doing, but it still makes him feel… well, shit. Seems like he’s only ever been Mister Second for a reason after all.

“Shu Yi.”

It’s gasped shakily into the skin of his neck, hot and wet and… devastated. Shu Yi deliberates yeeting himself out of the window or burying himself fifty feet deep, beneath this very bed. Also—simpler option—yanking his hand out of Gao Shi De’s boxer briefs. The fuck was he thinking?

But then there’s a weight against his forehead where Shi De’s forehead presses, and a pair of fire filled eyes locking with his, serious, grounding. “Shu Yi. You don’t have to do this.”

Thank God Shu Yi has enough brain capacity left to put two and two together. Gao Shi De, stubborn even with a hand around his dick. Stubborn, but also, maybe, possibly, a tiny bit insecure?

Which is lowkey offensive. Hasn’t Shu Yi made himself clear enough yet? Still, just in case, he reaches up with a free hand—the one that’s not full of leaking cock—and places it over the nape of Gao Shi De’s neck. He summons all sincerity to his gaze, and in a whisper, he says, “I want to.”

Because he does. He fucking does, oh God. He wants to take Gao Shi De apart, bit by agonizing bit, watch him fall to pieces underneath his fingertips, his lips, him.

Although: huh.

Hard to believe someone who always exudes relaxed confidence of knowing they're the shit like Gao Shi De would need pep talk before letting the person he likes touch him, but sure. Not like any of this whole ordeal has been believable anyway, so Shu Yi guesses having to clear his name from being the guy who goes around unwillingly touching people's private parts shouldn't come off as a surprise to him.

“Look at me.” Also, it's apparently equally as hard to articulate coherent words when his own... private part is still being appeased by someone's questionably skillful hand. Seriously, what is this guy? “Why else do you think I'm doing this?” 

This being fastening up his hand, tightening his grip just so. He feels oddly satisfied having the smug prick's heat pulsing in his palm, and even more so seeing the instant effect his drastic action has on said prick. 

Gao Shi De moans. 

“Reciprocity.” Okay, apparently this is one hell of a dense prick. Also a very unfair prick, still somehow managing to tug at Shu Yi's cock and grace the sensitive tip with his thumb to draw an embarrasing groan out of him, all when Shu Yi is trying to fucking talk here.

But two can play at this game, so Shu Yi lets Gao Shi De taste his own medicine, mimicking his exact move and smearing precum on the tip before working his clever hand in a very, very clever way. Ha. So who is groaning desperately now.

“Listen,” He bumps his nose against Gao Shi De's, forcing him to look into his eyes, “I'm not that nice.”

Gao Shi De blinks, eyes glinted with... awe. And vulnerability that makes Shu Yi's heart squeeze. 

All of a sudden, Shu Yi realizes that his arch-nemesis is being completely fragile in front of him right now. In a perfect world where Shu Yi's claim of loathing Gao Shi De was true, this would be a perfect opportunity to knock him the fuck out, success guaranteed. But this is not that world, even if it's the world Shu Yi thought he had been living in this whole time. 

This is reality. And in reality, Gao Shi De is the boy he likes. 

Foreign to his ears it might sound, still.

“I like you, Gao Shi De,” he repeats his answer once again, hoping to knock some sense through the dense prick's... density. Once again, just to make sure: “I like you.” 

Shu Yi speeds his hand up after placing his lips back where they belong—on Gao Shi De's lips, trying to go off from what would normally do it for him and obvious clues he's getting from Gao Shi De's responses. And they all suggest that Shu Yi's doing all the right things, so he carries on. With great difficulty though, because Gao Shi De seems equally as determined to extract the living soul out of him with maddening speed and just the right amount of pressure from his hand. 

Not to mention those lips, those lips that are eager to swallow every breathless breath Shu Yi's letting slip, and occasionally travel down to suck on his neck. Seriously, what is this guy? 

This is fucking insane.

Fuck, he's not going to last much longer. They are not going to last much longer. It's overwhelming—the swell in his chest, the familiar yet also foreign pleasure around his cock that is now sending him skyrocketing to ecstasy. It's too much, too much, too much like this—having Gao Shi De nibbling on his bottom lip, touching every inch of his skin within reach, stroking his length and squeezing at the base, thrusting with urgency into his fist, working him up and working him over with the kind of certainty that is honestly making him see stars. 

“Shi De, I-I’m—” Shu Yi will dearly miss being able to speak without choking on his own breath. And on Gao Shi De's tongue too, currently licking into his mouth. “I-I’m about— Shi De.”

“I know.” Lucky for him, Gao Shi De is one smart individual. “Me too.”

Ultimately, of all those—frankly should be illegal—things Gao Shi De is doing with his hands and his mouth, it's the Zhou Shu Yi pressing wet, almost reverently against where a mole sits under his eye that manages to, well, suck the living soul out of Shu Yi. He is only vaguely aware of spilling into the warmth of Gao Shi De's fist, Gao Shi De kissing him throughout the high of his climax and following suit shortly after. 

This is, fucking, insane.

Also: impossibly awkward now that both Shu Yi’s breathing and heart rate have calmed down considerably and the violent tremors have mostly subsided. Although he knows there’s no use crying over spilled milk (quite literally—excuse the crude analogy), he still finds it hard to process what the fuck happened.

He just held another boy’s dick in his hand. Better yet (or actually worse), he held Gao Shi De’s dick in his hand. Better yet (or again, worse), he just made Gao Shi De come by holding his dick in his hand. If that doesn’t call for an immediate retreat, he has no idea what does. Maybe he should have listened to that voice in his head screaming Abort! Abort! for the past half an hour or so, after all. Maybe it’s still not too late.

So, yeah, abort.

Unfortunately, just as he withdraws his sperm-stained (oh Lord) hand and makes to roll onto his other side (because, for the love of God, what else do you do after giving a fucking handjob to your long-time sworn enemy that you seem to have actually kind of, sort of fallen for at some unspecified point?), the arm that’s much too strong for Shu Yi’s liking tightens its hold around his middle, pulls him close, closer, closest, until they’re chest to chest, legs entangled at awkward angles and Shu Yi’s head tucked under Gao Shi De’s chin. 

It’s official: Shu Yi’s going to fucking die.

“You’re not going anywhere,” Gao Shi De murmurs then, warm. “You’re staying—right here.”

And Shu Yi thinks that for what it’s worth, at least he can finally slide a (clean!) hand over Gao Shi De’s ridiculously toned chest without having to justify it. Although on further deliberation… why the fuck didn’t they get rid of their shirts for this? Or at least of Gao Shi De’s? Such a wasted opportunity, God fucking damn it. Next time Shu Yi will make sure to—hold up. Next time who?

“Gao Shi De—” he tries, nonplussed. A heart slamming against his ear seems to be in sync with his own. Insane. Fucking incredible. “I think we—”

“Shh.” A pair of lips press a kiss to Shu Yi’s hair, then travel down to his forehead, press a kiss there too, for good measure. “It’s okay. We’re okay.” 

And when he hears a distant, wonderous whisper of My Shu Yi through a haze of an approaching dream a while later, he vaguely thinks that maybe they are okay, indeed.

Maybe they will continue to be, too.

* * *

It's like déjà vu.

Shu Yi's pretty sure he has seen this before. He definitely has, he swears, been in all... this before. Opening his eyes to an almost unrealistically defined chest (re: can't even be concealed behind a layer of fabric) millimeters away from his face, with an arm instead of a pillow under his head. Not just the rather provocative scene displaying in front of him, even the urge to touch said chest with his own hands is coming off worryingly familiar, too. 

Shu Yi takes a breath, fights against the early morning fogginess blurring his judgement and opens his eyes a bit wider, just to take everything in. Right. There's a stream of sunlight sneaking through the marginal gap between hastily closed curtains, gently pouring down a certain face. That part he knows. But then there are certain arms circling around him, certain legs intertwining with his under the covers. There's also a certain chin pressing a reassuring weight on the crown of his head, a certain steady heartbeat matching his own. 

Shit, he curses under his breath. Has Shu Yi teleported to another dimension or what the fuck is happening? 

All these familiarities he can't recall and differences he can't pinpoint are mixing together, swirling inside Shu Yi's brain, screeching for an answer to this abysmal situation, driving him slowly insane and he's not even sure if he's still dreaming or— 

“Awake already?”

Then there’s a kiss planted between his brows, more real than anything. 

Oh. Oh. Something clicks in Shu Yi, so that’s why it doesn’t feel quite right. So that's what the biggest difference is, between what had been and what is. Shu Yi pulls back a little, enough to lift his head up just a tiny bit. Looks into certain intensely brown eyes. Chomps mercilessly on a certain chin. Nuzzles snuggly into a certain chest. Feels weirdly victorious, as though he’d won something. 

Correction: so this is what feels right. 

Second correction: only until he remembers what exactly happened last night—the realization that would surely make him leap out of the bed, and maybe out of the window, in a bout of absolute panic, if not for the ever-insistent arm around him, chaining him to the sturdiness of… another boy’s chest.

Another boy that happens to be his (ex-?)arch-enemy. That he’s currently cuddling with. After experiencing a mind-blowing orgasm courtesy of his hands. And lips. Mere hours ago. Jesus.  

“If you’re about to have a mental breakdown right now, can you please save it for when I’m holding your hand on the train back home for everyone to see?”

Shu Yi almost ends up dislocating his neck in three different places with how sharply he jerks his head up. “What?”

The smirk he gets in response shouldn’t seem so damn hot to him, and yet. “You said you liked me, no? Even showed me how much. Or was that just another wet dream?”

Ju-just another— Shu Yi gulps. A part of him kind of wants to jump at the chance to blame everything on Gao Shi De’s sick subconscious and get it over with once and for all, before he loses what’s left of his sanity. The other part of him, however, feels like suffocating at the mere thought of letting go. Shit. When exactly did his life turn into a lousy fucking farce?

Thing is, there’s enough hard evidence to refute the dream theory anyway, the stained covers and both of their t-shirts speaking volumes. Which reminds him… shit. Didn’t Gao Shi De say yesterday he had no clean clothes left? How is he going to walk out of their room looking like… that? Would Shu Yi’s oversized Celine t-shirt fit him alright? Not that… not that he likes the idea of Gao Shi De wearing his clothes or something.

“Time’s up,” Gao Shi De’s low, triumphant sounding voice drags Shu Yi right out of his musings. “Your chance to pretend nothing had happened has just been blown.”

Before Shu Yi gets to retort, there’s a hand in his hair and a mouth on his mouth and—very possibly, Shu Yi registers with considerable trepidation—something poking his thigh. And then there’s a body pressing his own into the old, worn out mattress, hearts racing in unison, and Shu Yi’s hands shooting up, but not to push away.

As they’re being pried open with a skillful tongue a few beats later, Shu Yi’s lips stretch into a tiny smile. It does seem a little like a dream, indeed.

* * *

Shu Yi doesn't think he's mean or selfish, but it's hard to deny the satisfaction of grabbing Gao Shi De's wrist and dragging him past the intentionally left empty seat next to Xiao Yue. And seeing her face morph from expectancy into a gradual question mark with a cherry of disappointment on top. Ha. Shu Yi is not mean, he just doesn't like even the mere idea of sharing, that's all. Definitely not any of this —he thinks as he claims the window seat and watches Gao Shi De take the empty one next to it, naturally like that’s how it’s supposed to be. 

She might have put a band-aid on Gao Shi De—which Shu Yi already ripped the fuck off of his elbow and replaced with a new one anyway—but guess whose shirt he's wearing. Ha. Call him selfish, see if he cares. 

“Yo, am I high or is Gao Shi De seriously wearing a brand name t-shirt?” An infuriating voice from one of the two seats in front of him. Always trust Zhe Yu's lack of tact and ungodly tendency to point out the abnormality in any given situation, whether he should or not. That better not have been a jab at his absolutely flawless fashion sense, or Zhe Yu is dead meat—Shu Yi sends a warning gaze to the moron sitting in front of him, too bad he's not turning around to see it. 

“You're noticing his clothes and not whom he's sitting next to?” Bing Wei whispers into Zhe Yu's ears at almost full volume - dude doesn't actually think he's subtle or something, does he? "It's like seeing Tom hanging out with Jerry or like, Kanye West and Taylor Swift." 

“Doesn't that t-shirt look terribly similar to the one Shu Yi wore to—” 

For fuck’s sake, do they think Shu Yi is deaf? He stands up and shoves both of their heads forward with zero mercy, because neither of these idiots deserves any: “I don't hit people so early in the morning, but fucking try me.” 

And why is Gao Shi De snickering?! Does he think he’s safe from Shu Yi’s death note now just because he’s Shu Yi’s… Shu Yi’s, um, b-boyfriend? Shit, is that what they are now? 

Nah, they can’t be. It’s just… Just a temporary, uh, arrangement. Nothing but an immediate consequence of the graduation trip’s ludicrous happenings. Ephemeral in nature. Bound to disappear upon their return home like Gao Shi De’s erection upon a few well-executed tugs of Shu Yi’s hand earlier this morning. Heh, Shu Yi barely resists the urge to chuckle at the parallel his mind has just drawn. A not-so-subtle shiver wracks his body at the memory, nonetheless. Which, not a good sign.

“You cold?” Gao Shi De’s reaction is instantaneous, and Shu Yi does everything in his power to ignore the little voice at the back of his head telling him that this is exactly how a boyfriend acts. “The air conditioning here is crazy.”

Gao Shi De’s jacket lands on Shu Yi’s thighs before he can so much as blink, and he’s ready to yank it off himself with a scornful snort and a none-too-kindly delivered explanation of No, I’m not cold on a scorching hot summer day, what the fuck is wrong with you, Gao Shi De? when that dumbass’s hand finds his under the stiff fabric of the jacket.

And—really—fuck it. They are boyfriends.

So Shu Yi tugs at Gao Shi De’s hand, pulls it out of its hiding place where it was holding onto Shu Yi’s hand against his thigh, beneath the waterproof material.

Shooting him an alarmed look, Gao Shi De leans in promptly, whispers into his ear, “Just so we’re clear: when I said earlier I’d grab your hand in front of everyone, I was kidding.”

A subtle squeeze of Shu Yi’s fingers is the only reply Gao Shi De will get. Whatever, Shu Yi grins victoriously in the direction of Xiao Yue’s seat. Let them see.

FIN

(Legend has it that ever since the trip, no one dares to confess to Gao Shi De anymore. Weird.)