Archive of Our Own ^beta

When Linshu receives a bond-free scholarship to attend a prestigious university overseas, he has half a mind to reject it immediately. He doesn’t tell anyone the reason why, of course– he’s not stupid– but he does say that he is still considering the offer. After all, it’s just one of the many scholarship offers that’s been rolling in through the mail in the past few weeks. His parents hide their disappointment well, and merely urge him to think about it properly, but Jingyan..

“Are you stupid?” Jingyan hisses. He elbows Linshu none too kindly. “Why haven’t you accepted it yet?”

Linshu doesn’t comment on the first part because it’s just too easy, and Linshu doesn’t like winning easy battles. Instead, Linshu elbows Jingyan back with a scowl. “I’m still thinking, okay? It’s not as simple as it seems.”

“What can you possibly be thinking about? This is a great offer! It’ll open many doors for you!”

“I can open my own doors.”

Jingyan rolls his eyes. “Stop being obtuse.” It’s a word Jingyan had learnt recently, and a word he hasn’t stopped using since. “Most people would accept it in a heartbeat. What’s stopping you?”

A small part of Linshu bristles. What’s stopping him from accepting the offer? What’s stopping him?

Just you, Linshu thought.

Because Linshu has always been aware of his feelings for Jingyan. While he can’t pinpoint exactly when he first developed them, he always remembers the first time they came into full bloom with plum blossoms one sunny winter afternoon when they woke up on Jingyan’s bed, limbs tangled together and Jingyan’s long hair tickling his nose. He remembered the way that Jingyan raised himself on an elbow, eyes roaming down Linshu’s face and landing on something that made the corner of his lips twitch upwards. And just as Linshu’s sleep-addled brain was beginning to fire on all cylinders, Jingyan brought his hand up and rubbed at the corner of Linshu’s lips, where a trail of saliva had almost dried up.

Linshu returned home that night and brushed his fingers against the same corner Jingyan’s thumb had pressed into with care, and found himself wishing that it was still there.

It was at that moment that Linshu realised he was in love with his best friend.

For the most part, Linshu was happy to keep his feelings a secret from Jingyan. They didn’t have many of those– secrets that they kept from each other– but it was one of those rare things that Linshu didn’t want to share. They did everything together and spent almost all the free time that they had together. It was common knowledge that they came as a package together. You could always find Jingyan by finding Linshu, and vice versa.

And it was because they spent so much time together that Linshu was certain that Jingyan had felt the same way, even if he hadn’t realised it yet. All the times that Jingyan would fulfil any request Linshu asked of him no matter how ridiculous it was; all the times that Jingyan initiated unnecessary body contact with Linshu; all the times that Jingyan smiled at Linshu softly, privately; all the times that Jingyan’s gaze lingered on him and fell onto his lips. Linshu wasn’t oblivious to Jingyan’s feelings the way that Jingyan was to his own. Jingyan liked him back, this was a fact. But there was no hurry. Linshu would wait for Jingyan to come to this realisation himself before doing anything about his own feelings. After all, they had all the time in the world. There was no one else, nothing else that gave urgency to this, anyway.

Until now.

When Linshu doesn’t reply, Jingyan’s expression softens. He scoots closer to Linshu, close enough to press their thighs together, and they watch the river moving smoothly in front of them, sunlight reflecting off its uneven surface like there were diamonds embedded in it.

“I don’t want you to leave either,” Jingyan says quietly. Linshu turns to Jingyan, but Jingyan looks forward resolutely, expression blank except for the small line between his brows. “I’m gonna miss you a lot, Xiaoshu, but you should go.”

And then Jingyan finally faces Linshu, eyes dark with melancholy and longing. It’s in that moment that Linshu decides to go. He accepts the offer that same night and packs his belongings a few months later, with Jingyan helpfully folding his clothes and ticking items off the checklist that Linshu’s mother prepared the week before.

Linshu leaves without much fanfare. His parents and friends gather around him as he goes around the circle for a brief one-armed hug, laughing off their tears and thanking them for their well wishes. When Linshu reaches Jingyan, he stops for a long moment, the both of them looking at each other with red-rimmed eyes.

“Don’t do anything stupid over there,” Jingyan says with a strained voice, eyes glistening with unshed tears all over again. “You’ll get yourself into trouble and I won’t be there to bail you out.”

Linshu wants to roll his eyes, but all he says is, “Okay.”

“Don’t forget to check for hazelnuts before you eat anything. And remember to bring your epipen everywhere you go. Ask your friends to remind you if you have to.”

“Okay.”

“And don’t forget to charge your power bank before leaving your place. Make sure that it’s actually charging. Don’t just plug the wire in and hope for the best.”

“Okay.”

“And–”

“Jingyan, I’m going to be fine,” Linshu says with a laugh that’s too sharp to be natural. “You’ve mentioned all of these a million times by now. I’m sure that I’m not going to forget anything else, don’t worry.”

Jingyan shakes his head. “There’s one more thing I haven’t mentioned.”

At this, Linshu raises a brow. Jingyan sniffles, blinking back his tears. Another long moment passes before Jingyan speaks again, voice cracking as he says, “Don’t– don’t miss me too much, Xiaoshu.”

Linshu doesn’t promise him this. He doesn’t even know why Jingyan is saying this, because it’s impossible to fulfil, and Linshu has no intention of even trying to do so. So in lieu of an answer, Linshu throws his arms around Jingyan and pulls him into a tight hug before either of them can see each other cry again.

It takes months to get used to living in another country, and still Linshu doesn’t think that he’ll ever get used to the gaping absence of Jingyan’s presence.

It’s not as if Jingyan has vanished from his life entirely. They text and call and video call as often as they can, but things are much harder when there’s a twelve-hour time difference between them. Linshu wakes up earlier to chat with Jingyan and stays up into ungodly hours of the night just to maximise the time they can steal together.

It takes Jingyan oversleeping for his mandatory attendance tutorial for Linshu to realise that Jingyan is doing the exact same thing, and it’s detrimental for him. They end up setting hard limits for themselves after that, and it’s something they agreed on, but Linshu resents the distance between them all the more for it.

Days turn into weeks, and weeks into months. By the time that Linshu notices the passage of time, one semester has passed and he’s on a video call with Jingyan in the early morning, when the sun has barely begun touching the inky sky. Jingyan’s in the middle of recounting his day, helping his mother to bake their annual New Year goodies for the party they’re hosting when a casual comment snaps Linshu’s attention back to the conversation.

“..and I’ll meet you at the airport with Nihuang in the afternoon–”

Linshu pauses for a long time. It’s abrupt enough that Jingyan’s mouth closes soon after, apprehension bleeding into his excitement.

“Xiaoshu? What’s wrong?”

Linshu purses his lips. He assumed that Jingyan would have heard about it from his mother. He never wanted to have to tell Jingyan personally.

“Jingyan,” Linshu says carefully, “I’m not coming back for the New Year. I was selected to represent my school in a competition. We’re preparing for it over the break.”

Jingyan’s smile falters for a moment. He glances off to the side before he flashes another smile at Linshu, weaker than before. “But.. but you’ll be coming back to celebrate the Chinese New Year, right?” When Linshu says nothing, Jingyan prods again. “.. Right, Xiaoshu?”

“I’m staying here until the academic year is over,” Linshu says in a rush.

Jingyan’s smile evaporates, and disappointment flickers in his eyes for a second before he hangs his head, out of view of the camera. When he looks back up, there’s a poor imitation of a smile on his face.

“I guess it can’t be helped,” Jingyan says, “But being selected to represent your school is.. that’s really awesome, Xiaoshu. I’m proud of you. I– I’m really happy for you.”

Linshu spends his break liking the posts and photos that Jingyan uploads on his social media. He also goes through all the posts that their mutual friends upload about the various parties and celebrations he’s missed out on, searching for bits of information about Jingyan in between the lengthy captions and mountains of photos and videos. When that isn’t enough, Linshu scours through everything Jingyan was tagged in, always mindful not to like them by accident and give away his recent stalking activities. Not that Jingyan wouldn’t notice, but Linshu doesn’t need to make it more obvious than it already is.

Unsurprisingly, it becomes a habit that Linshu finds himself unable to get rid of. A quick refresh over breakfast, a short search in between classes, a final look before he locks his phone for the night. Linshu is not proud of this habit, but it fills a little bit of the Jingyan-sized void in his life and helps him feel more involved in Jingyan’s life.

It’s another avenue to learn more about the more mundane parts of Jingyan’s daily life he doesn’t tell Linshu: the dormitory fire drill at midnight where Jingyan was dressed only in a singlet and shorts, the wushu trainings and the suppers they grab before calling it a night, the movie tickets pictured with a combination of popcorn, drinks and a single bottle of water at the side. Linshu pours over each post, each photo, and finds himself inadvertently smiling at every hint of Jingyan he can find.

It’s probably because of his new habit that Linshu notices something most people would have otherwise missed.

Linshu is lying on his bed, holding his phone above his face as he scrolls through posts Jingyan’s tagged in when he comes across a photo posted by Lie Zhanying– Jingyan’s second best friend. It used to be a sore point for Linshu when Lie Zhanying started becoming a more and more prominent figure in Jingyan’s life, and while they’re not the best of friends, Linshu has come to accept and appreciate Zhanying’s constant updates. It also helps that Zhanying is Jingyan’s roommate, because Linshu gets to see a lot more Jingyan than he would if they weren’t.

The post itself isn’t much to comment on. It’s a bunch of relatively unremarkable photos, shoddily taken in the middle of the night, as if the person holding the camera was moving at the same time. Lights blur into thick lines and faces smudge across the roads, but the people in the photos seem to be having a good time, if the smiles on their faces are anything to go by.

Linshu can recognise Qi Meng easily, even with his head thrown back in laughter. He can also recognise Zhanying by the bucket hat he’s taken to wearing recently, cream coloured and soft. There’s no formal group photo, just a few hastily taken snapshots of them walking along the sidewalk, the harsh white light of the lampposts barely illuminating their faces for most of the photos.

When Linshu swipes again, he’s puzzled that he has reached the end of the photo collection. There are no more photos to see. That’s strange. Jingyan’s tagged in this post, but Linshu has yet to see his face in any of the photos. Linshu frowns, going through all of them again and zooming in on all the faces in the pictures. When he’s at the last photo and hasn’t seen a trace of Jingyan yet, Linshu wonders if perhaps Jingyan is the one taking the photos. That would explain a lot of things, like why the photos are so badly taken–

Wait.

Linshu’s eyes narrow as he zooms in as far as his phone will allow him. There’s a silhouette at the back of the group, purposely lagging behind. The figure is looking down, face obscured by the shadows of his friends, but not enough for Linshu to miss the hand hovering near his face, a cigarette wedged between long, slender fingers. And for a moment– just a split second, really– Linshu wonders if–

Linshu dismisses the thought as soon as it appears. There’s no way that man could be Jingyan. Jingyan doesn’t smoke– his mother’s a doctor. She would make him regret his entire life if she ever found out that he was smoking. Besides, the man was walking way behind the group of them, which means that he was just a stranger headed in the same direction. Jingyan was probably the idiot taking these photos, that’s all.

A weight lifts itself off Linshu’s chest as he comes to this conclusion. That’s right. There’s no way that could be Jingyan. Just some random guy then.

Linshu likes the post before locking his phone, turning in for the night.

Linshu gives Jingyan shit for his non-existent photo taking skills during their next call. Jingyan looks baffled for the duration of the rant. There’s a moment when Jingyan opens his mouth, either to defend his photography skills or to say something else, but then he snaps it shut again and decides to wait it out before turning the conversation to Linshu’s recent attempts at cooking.

After that, the post is promptly forgotten in lieu of more important things, like things actually featuring Jingyan’s face in them. It was forgotten, and remained forgotten, until Qi Meng uploads a video on his account a few weeks later.

It’s near noon and Linshu is using his phone in the middle of a particularly boring lecture when he notices the update.

Qi Meng’s account is a mixed bag, meaning that he doesn’t filter much of anything before posting it online. There’s pictures of his meals at various stages of consumption, pictures of the sky and sunsets, pictures of his friends and family, pictures of the neighbourhood cat that doesn’t look pleased to see him at all. Linshu doesn’t usually expect much whenever Qi Meng updates, but he’s bored, and the lecture is not ending for another half an hour.

Linshu clicks on the video and watches the circle spin twice before the video starts playing. It’s a video of their group of friends seated at a roadside skewer stall. The table is filled with opened cans of beer, and plates with nothing but used sticks and tissues. The video goes in a clockwise direction, recording the group of friends singing a song that Linshu doesn’t know of. As soon as it reaches the last person at the table, the video swings back anti-clockwise and ends immediately.

Linshu snorts. This is such a typical Qi Meng post. Linshu’s about to press the like button and move on when something occurs to him. The person at the opposite end of the table– that was Zhanying. But unlike the rest of the group, Zhanying wasn’t singing along. In fact, Zhanying seemed to be deep in conversation with someone.

Where Zhanying was, one could usually find Jingyan nearby too. It was a generally accurate observation that Linshu had made over the past few months of tracking their activities.

Kind of like how we were. Linshu squishes the thought quickly, unwilling to let something this silly sour his mood.

Maybe Jingyan was in the video too. Warmth explodes in Linshu’s chest at the thought of catching a glimpse of Jingyan in the video. With barely concealed glee, Linshu presses the rewatch button, making sure to observe each person carefully. Not Jingyan, not Jingyan either, also not Jingyan, Zhanying, and back again.

What? That’s it? No way. Where’s Jingyan?

Linshu furrows his brows, pressing replay. He refuses to believe that Jingyan isn't in here, because Zhanying and Qi Meng are, and the Jingyan-radar in Linshu is telling him that Jingyan is in that video.

The video replays without another hint of Jingyan, so Linshu replays it again, and again, and again until he notices a hand, a very familiar hand. It’s a hand that Linshu would recognise anywhere because he’s spent too many years looking at it and holding it not to be able to pick it out in a crowd. Linshu homes in on that hand and follows that strong wrist all the way down the forearms, where the rest of that person was cut out of the camera’s frame.

Well, that’s disappointing. So Jingyan was there, but he was hidden from view. Linshu suppresses a sigh and taps the like button, ready to move on for real when something else occurs to him.

He backs up the video to the split second pause when it reaches the end of the table, and then he squints at the screen because–

Is that a fucking cigarette between Jingyan’s index finger and thumb?

Linshu studies the image for a long time before he knows, without doubt, that it is, indeed, a fucking cigarette that Jingyan’s holding. A wave of indescribable and indistinguishable emotions wash over Linshu at the realisation. He stares at his phone for a long moment, and then continues staring at it well past the closing summary of his lecture.

Jingyan is holding a cigarette. Jingyan is holding a cigarette.

Whose cigarette is that?

Right, but that was it, wasn’t it? It wasn’t Jingyan’s cigarette, it couldn’t be. Jingyan doesn’t smoke– Linshu would know. Jingyan was just helping someone hold his cigarette. Even the way he held it, between his thumb and his index finger, suggests that he plucked it from someone else’s fingers.

Tension floods out of Linshu as the other students start packing up. Silly, kind Jingyan. He must have been so reluctant to hold it, why did he have to be so soft-hearted? Linshu smiles at his screen again before pocketing his phone. He’ll give Jingyan shit for this later.

Another few weeks pass without incident. Finals are rolling in, and there is no calm before the storm. Projects and deadlines pile up, and Linshu finds himself swamped by the amount of work there is to do to secure that A+ this semester. It’s not a walk in the park like it was last semester, and what free time he has quickly vanishes.

Besides, university suffering is a universal phenomenon. Calls with Jingyan grow shorter as the circles under Jingyan’s eyes grow darker, and text messages become more sporadic than before. Linshu hates it, but there’s nothing to be done. They’ll make up for it when Linshu goes back for the summer break. Linshu will glue himself to Jingyan and be more insufferable than ever, and he’ll know everything about Jingyan again, right down to the colour and size of his poops after their morning runs.

But even so, Linshu still misses Jingyan. He misses the frequency of their texts and chats, he misses Jingyan’s boring, watered-down narration of things that happened to him, he misses Jingyan’s stupid face with his stupidly thick eyebrows and stupidly kissable lips and stupidly big, brown, doe eyes.

It’s in the middle of one especially frustrating all-nighter that Linshu is no longer able to resist the desire to see Jingyan. The all-nighter is so long that when Linshu finally looks up from his laptop, rolling his neck and feeling his spine pop in succession, the sun has long risen and lone stragglers drag themselves across the sidewalk to their next class. Linshu takes a look at the unfinished assignment in front of him, and the hundred tabs he has opened on his browser, and feels the urge to bury his face in his hands and scream. It’s been nearly twenty-four hours since his last meal and he’s been running on pure caffeine and adrenaline ever since. He should take a shower and eat a proper meal, maybe catch some shut eye before his next tutorial in two hours, but Linshu does none of that.

Instead, Linshu picks up his phone and video calls Jingyan.

This is a bad idea. It’s late over there, and Jingyan is probably busy rushing to meet one of the many unreasonable deadlines he mentioned a week ago. He probably wouldn’t pick up anyway, and that’s fine because Linshu is springing this call on him and–

The call connects.

Linshu straightens his back. His heart is pumping adrenaline for reasons unrelated to the six empty cups of coffee on his table. An indiscernible, vaguely Jingyan-looking blob appears on the screen.

From the shape of Jingyan, Linshu can make out the black hoodie that he gave to Jingyan a year ago, the one with the many zips that Jingyan made fun of. It swallows Jingyan and looks more like a blanket wrapped around him, like the time when Jingyan caught a cold and Linshu wrapped multiple layers of blankets around him. Linshu remembers the way that Jingyan peeked out of them miserably, cheeks dusted red and his eyes drooping with exhaustion, letting Linshu pull him into a bear hug with weak protests about how he’d catch the cold if he was this close, and how Linshu shouldn’t even be in the room right now.

A smile spreads across Linshu’s face at the memory. As Jingyan’s face comes into focus on the screen, Linshu’s about to remind Jingyan about that day when something else comes into focus as well.

“What the fuck is that in your mouth?!”

Jingyan furrows his brows. “Huh, what?” he says before it occurs to him what Linshu is referring to. “Oh.”

He pulls out the stick between his lips with grace that definitely requires practice and a nonchalance that does not belong to Xiao Jingyan, and Linshu wonders if he had fallen asleep at some point and this is all just a nightmare he’s unable to wake up from.

But because this is Linshu’s life, Jingyan looks down for a few seconds and Linshu can hear the muffled sound of shoes grinding against concrete.

“Hi Xiaoshu,” Jingyan says with a boyish grin, as if he wasn’t caught smoking just a minute ago. “You look tired. Don’t tell me you’ve been pulling all-nighters again. How many times is it this week?”

“Xiao Jingyan, are you smoking?” Linshu asks, dead serious.

A flush touches Jingyan’s face, crawling to the tips of his ears as he averts his gaze. Finally, there’s the Xiao Jingyan that Linshu knows. “N-no,” Jingyan says weakly, “I mean, I’m not now..”

Which somehow makes things both better and worse because Linshu isn’t going crazy, it’s just the world that is going crazy because Xiao Jingyan just admitted to smoking. The sun rises from the west, the world is flat, and Xiao Jingyan has turned into a smoker in the time that Linshu was away.

“It’s– I’m not addicted,” Jingyan says hurriedly, as if that’s the reason for Linshu’s silence. “It’s– I– I just smoke one with my friends every now and then. I’m not a chain smoker.”

“What friends?” Linshu demands hotly before realising how that sounds. “What kind of friends have you been making when I’m not around?”

The flush on Jingyan’s face deepens. “Don’t say it like that, Xiaoshu. They’re not bad people–”

“They’ve turned you into a smoker!” Linshu cries, “What else have they taught you to do? Drink? Gamble?”

When Jingyan doesn’t reply, Linshu’s stomach sinks.

“Xiao Jingyan!” Linshu says just a notch below a shout, “What kind of company have you been mixing with?! Weren’t you the one telling me not to get myself into trouble? Did you forget your own advice? This is– what are you–” Linshu runs a hand through his hair, feeling it fall back in successive waves. “Does your mother know?”

Jingyan’s face falls for the first time in the call. “Xiaoshu..”

“You didn’t tell her, did you? You– you didn’t tell her because you know how disappointed she’ll be in you.”

“Xiaoshu, please don’t tell her,” Jingyan says, begs, “You’re right, she’ll be disappointed and upset with me, but– but my friends aren’t like what you think they are. They’re really nice people!”

“Really?” Linshu says sharply, “Is that how they got you to try smoking, to try drinking? By being nice? They pressured you, didn’t they? They made you do it.”

“No, it wasn’t like that–”

And Linshu might have believed Jingyan if it wasn’t for a thought that slithered to the forefront of his mind, a thought that Jingyan was being coerced into doing things. The thought of Jingyan being surrounded by a hostile group of nameless and faceless people, goaded into picking up that first stick and pushing it between his lips, being made to throw back that shot in the middle of a rowdy party. Something claws inside Linshu’s chest, struggling to climb up his throat, and Linshu barely recognises it as pure panic because of how rarely he ever encounters this feeling.

“I’m coming back.” Linshu announces.

“What?” Jingyan says, bewildered.

Linshu cuts the call immediately. He’s already checking the next flight back home, and there’s no time to explain to Jingyan how imperative it is for him to get back home and expel the evil– Jingyan’s new friends– from his life.

As soon as the flight is booked, Linshu is dumping the bare minimum in his luggage and is about to slam his laptop shut when he spares a glance at the unfinished assignment. Guilt worms itself into Linshu’s chest. Part of him –the disciplined, wise part that grew up under his father’s strict lifestyle and cousin Qi’s equally rigid moral code– rails against the thought of leaving now. It’s the last week of classes leading up to the final exams, and Linshu still has a few tutorials left to attend and plenty more deadlines to meet.

But it’s Jingyan, and that justifies everything. Giving up his perfect class attendance, giving up the time that he could use perfecting his assignments, spending an exorbitant amount just to make sure that he’ll be on the next plane home. Everything.

Jingyan needs him, and Linshu is on his way.

The first thing that Linshu does isn’t to go home. His mother would kill him if she found out, and his father would bring him back to life just so she could kill him again, but Linshu has more pressing matters at hand. He throws himself into the back of Meng Zhi’s car and they speed off with the tyres screeching and horns blaring.

“Xiaoshu! It’s good to see you again!” Meng Zhi says. His eyes have never left the road. “I wasn’t expecting you to be back so soon, and with urgent business! Is it important?”

Linshu nods once. “Extremely.”

“I guessed it must have been. You flew all the way back for this! What’s going on?”

Linshu rubs the hem of his shirt between his fingers, brows creasing. A long moment passes. “Jingyan is in trouble.”

Meng Zhi does a double take at Linshu through the rearview mirror. “Jingyan is in trouble?!” Linshu nods again, but doesn’t elaborate, so Meng Zhi presses him, “Is he hurt? Did he get beaten up? Ah, no, Jingyan knows how to fight, he wouldn’t get beaten up..” Meng Zhi shakes his head, looking at Linshu again. “Well, tell me already! What happened to Jingyan?”

Linshu’s frown deepens. Time crawls between them. Meng Zhi swerves into the next lane, earning an angry honk from the car behind.

“He’s in bad company,” Linshu grits out.

Saying the words causes a physical ache in his chest. It’s all his fault for leaving in the first place. He should’ve never left. If he just ignored everyone and stayed here, Jingyan would never be in this position, but now that he is, Linshu has to fix it.

Meng Zhi’s frown lightens up for a split second, turning quizzical.

“What– what kind of bad company?”

Linshu doesn’t want to divulge too much to Meng Zhi because it’s clear that this is something Jingyan is ashamed of, and doesn’t want too many people knowing. Once Linshu finds Jingyan and sorts things out, everything will be okay again. This will just become another secret between them that no one else needs to know of, but the thought of people taking advantage of Jingyan’s trust in them, of people corrupting Jingyan’s pure heart, ignites a rage in Linshu vicious enough to want to send them into the emergency room.

He clenches his hand around the cloth in his fingers, glaring out of the window. “The kind that forces him to do things against his will.”

Meng Zhi gapes at Linshu, nearly missing their exit turn. “Are you sure?” Meng Zhi stutters, “You know how stubborn he is. Jingyan isn’t someone who will let others force him to do something he doesn’t want to. Even Jingyu couldn’t get him to transfer schools that year Aunty Jing got a divorce because he wanted to stay in the same school as you.”

Linshu knows this. Of course Linshu knows. Any acquaintance of Jingyan’s worth their salt would know how stubborn he could be. His nickname ‘water buffalo’ wasn’t plucked out of thin air– Linshu was the one who gave it to him. Linshu was Jingyan’s bestest friend. Of course he knows.

And deep down, it’s a fact that troubles Linshu. Jingyan wouldn’t do something he didn’t want to, but the logical and more reasonable part of Linshu rationalises it as Jingyan reacting irrationally under pressure.

“I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t,” is all Linshu says.

Meng Zhi gives Linshu a look of dismay before turning his eyes back on the road. The rest of the car ride passes in silence.

Linshu can’t say that Lie Zhanying is the first person that he wants to see in Jingyan’s university, but all things considered, it could have been a lot worse. He could have run into Qi Meng.

Lie Zhanying looks like he’s a lot of things: nonplussed, shocked, worried, and wary. It’s the last one that annoys Linshu because it means that Zhanying knows that Jingyan is in trouble with Linshu, which means that Zhanying knows that Linshu knows, which means that Zhanying had been keeping Jingyan’s recent activities a secret from Linshu, and that really stings.

“Linshu,” Zhanying says with that air of respect that Linshu appreciates too much. Linshu suspects that Zhanying had to remind himself not to attach a ‘mister’ to his name. “I didn’t know you were planning to visit.”

“I wasn’t,” Linshu says flatly, “Where’s Jingyan?”

Zhanying glances to the side before schooling his face into a perfectly neutral mask. “I think he might be at the library.”

“Might?” Linshu raises a brow. Zhanying nods, and even his nodding is completely neutral, betraying absolutely nothing.

“Jingyan has a lot of group meetings. If he isn’t at the library, he could be in any of the Engineering classrooms, or in our room.”

Meng Zhi fidgets next to Linshu. Linshu had nearly forgotten that Meng Zhi was here at all.

“That’s too many places to check!” Meng Zhi says, looking nervously between them as thumbs the button on Linshu’s luggage handle. “Why don’t we wait for him in his room? Surely, he will have to go back to his room.”

Zhanying hesitates for a moment. Linshu narrows his eyes marginally.

“Alright.” Zhanying agrees under duress.

The walk to their room is awkward, but awkward is nothing compared to the awfully suffocating air of discomfort that Linshu creates while they wait for Jingyan’s return. Zhanying dutifully pours them a cup of tea from his thermal flask, and Meng Zhi tries to make light conversation about the weather and the colour of the walls. The room is familiar to Linshu even if this is the first time he’s stepping foot into it– he’s seen it many times on his calls with Jingyan. The wide window above the two adjacent tables, the two single beds opposite each other, pushed to the corners of the room.

Linshu pulls out the chair from Jingyan’s desk and sweeps his eyes across the table. At the corner of the table, tilted diagonally to the centre, stands two photo frames. In one is a photo of Jingyan sandwiched between his mother and his brother, Jingyu, and in the other is a photo of them. Linshu has his arms wrapped loosely around Jingyan’s neck, hooking his chin on Jingyan’s shoulder while Jingyan’s hands are clasped onto his forearms. They grin at the camera, and the slant of the sunlight blurs out their faces just enough to make it look like a yellowed photograph.

This is new to Linshu. Jingyan has never shown this part of his table to Linshu, and Linshu now realises that Jingyan had been intentionally holding his phone away from his table.

He picks up the photo of them and grazes his fingertips on the glass, noticing how clean it is. Not a speck of dust, not a single fingerprint on it. Jingyan must clean this photo frame often. A smile touches Linshu’s face. He can see the way that Jingyan would clean the frame, with a cloth in his hand and his mouth skewed to the side in concentration, carefully wiping it in one direction following the imaginary lines drawn in his mind. Linshu can see the way that Jingyan examines his work after it’s done, tilting it in all sorts of angles to make sure he doesn’t miss anything before that soft, fond smile appears on his face.

Linshu wonders if it is anything like the smile on his face now, both mirroring each other in different pockets of time. It makes Linshu’s smile widen as he places the photo frame back in its place, giving it a little pat as he moves away.

And then Linshu notices the packet of cigarettes just behind the other frame. It’s bent at the edges like it’s been taken in and out of tight pockets and flicked open one too many times, and Linshu’s expression devolves into something thunderous.

It’s bad enough that they were making Jingyan smoke, but were they making him keep some for them in his room now? Were they using Jingyan’s money to fuel their needs now?!

It’s at this moment that the door opens with a long creak. A hush settles over them before a voice says, “Xiaoshu?”

As Linshu turns around to face Jingyan, something must show on his face because Zhanying stands up immediately. “I have night study. Please excuse me,” he says, gathering his books, laptop and toiletries in his arms before leaving the room.

Meng Zhi gets the message instantly. He stands up and dusts his pants, smiling stiffly at Jingyan and then at Linshu. “I.. I just remembered that.. I have to fetch Mu Qing! Haha! Nihuang won’t be happy if I’m late. Again.” Meng Zhi chuckles like his life depends on it. He begins crab walking to the door, brushing past Jingyan on his way. “Xiaoshu, I’ll just leave your things here. Bye!”

The door slams shut and it echoes in the silence of the room. Jingyan looks over his shoulder, puzzled, and then turns back to smile at Linshu.

“What did you do to them? Did you threaten them?” Jingyan muses, shaking his head with a soft laugh. He walks farther into the room and unloads his books onto the table, then takes another look at Linshu and frowns, perplexed. “Why’re you staring at me like that? Did you wait a long time for me?” Jingyan says, “You should’ve told me you were arriving. I would have fetched you from the airport–”

“Pack your things, Jingyan,” Linshu says with a tone of finality. Jingyan shuts his mouth, astonished. “You’re going home.”

Jingyan tilts his head, visibly confused. “Why am I going home? Did mother–”Jingyan freezes as dread sweeps across his face. “Did something happen to my mother?”

“Aunty Jing is fine.”

Relief washes through Jingyan. His body deflates, then goes tense again when he realises his first question is still unanswered. “Then.. why am I going home?”

Linshu closes the gap between them and claps Jingyan’s shoulders hard, swallowing down the guilt rising up his throat at the fear in Jingyan’s eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Linshu says, “I’m sorry, Jingyan. I let you down. We promised that we’d take care of each other till our deaths, but I still–” Linshu shakes his head, shutting his eyes resolutely. “I should never have left. This is all my fault–”

“Xiaoshu, what are you talking about–”

Linshu’s eyes fly open. He looks back at Jingyan with a new determination. Jingyan startles, gaze flickering to Linshu’s fingers digging into the meat of his shoulders. “But I’m here now, and I promise to fix this. Nothing’s going to happen to you. We’ll get you back home and explain everything to Aunty Jing. I will make sure she understands that none of this is your fault. We’ll transfer you to another school, although we’ll probably have to wait until your semester is over–”

Jingyan covers Linshu’s mouth with his hand. It’s surprisingly soft, considering all the callouses that had formed. Distantly, Linshu thinks about licking Jingyan’s palm.

“Xiaoshu,” Jingyan says slowly, “What’s going on? Why am I going home? Why do I need to transfer schools? What are we telling my mother?”

Linshu huffs impatiently, and the puff of hot air surprises Jingyan enough to let go of his mouth.

“I know you’re being bullied!” Linshu says exasperatedly, because why is Jingyan still playing dumb about this? “I know that your ‘friends’ are making you buy their cigarettes and alcohol, and forcing you to take part in all their bad habits!”

Jingyan blinks at Linshu, speechless, but Linshu barrels on.

“Honestly, I can’t believe you didn’t tell me! Since when did we keep secrets from each other? What kind of best friend are you?” Linshu folds his arms across his chest. “But, I forgive you. I understand why you kept it to yourself, but it’s nothing to be ashamed of, and nothing to be scared about. I won’t let them bully you any longer. You don’t have to worry about breaking away from them, I’ll make sure that you’ll be safe.”

Jingyan stares at Linshu for a long time just blinking before he promptly bursts into laughter. He doubles over and grabs onto Linshu’s shoulder for support, and Linshu is completely flabbergasted. Jingyan laughs for a full minute before his loud, uncontrolled her-her-her morphs into giggles and little hitches of breath as he composes himself again, wiping at the side of his eye as he straightens himself.

Linshu expects Jingyan to start laughing again, so he is unprepared for the soft smile that plays on Jingyan’s lips as he regards Linshu.

“Have you eaten?” Jingyan asks at last. Linshu stares at Jingyan like he had grown a second head in the span of a second. What the hell was he talking about? “Knowing you, you probably skipped dinner waiting for me.” Jingyan nods towards the door. His hand slides down Linshu’s wrist, hooking onto his fingers and gently pulling on their joint hands. “Come on, I’ll cook something for you.”

A million unformed questions swirl in Linshu’s head as he lets himself be guided out of the room.

The sound of the knife slicing through the carrot is consistent and uniform. Jingyan stands at the chopping board quietly, the line of his shoulders relaxed despite the focus of his eyes on the vegetable. When the carrot is sliced, he sweeps his hand across the board, pushing all of them onto a plate where the cut cabbage is.

Linshu watches Jingyan work with a calm that belies all the thoughts screaming for attention in his head. Jingyan is wearing the black hoodie that Linshu gave him, and black shorts that end just above his knees. His hair is impeccably styled, combed to the side but with tufts that break away and brushes his forehead. In spite of the white, frilly apron he’s wearing, Jingyan looks effortlessly stylish. Jingyan moves like he is in control. His movements are swift and precise, but it comes so naturally to him that it was like watching Jingyan dance. And as Jingyan turns his head to the side, pouring oil onto the pan, Linshu’s eyes trace the defined line of Jingyan’s jaw, before dropping his gaze onto the strong slope of his broader shoulder, and the peek of veins running up Jingyan’s forearm where his sleeve is pushed up.

Jingyan is handsome– Linshu had always known this, of course, but not everyone saw it, and even fewer understood it.

Jingyan used to wear brighter colours that didn’t compliment him. His clothes were either too bright, like that red shirt he was so fond of wearing, or too similar to his skin tone. He used to have longer hair that flopped in his face and flew all over the place as soon as a breeze passed them by. He used to be scrawny and lanky, exercising too much and letting Linshu steal pieces of meat from his plate. Jingyan used to move rigidly, like someone who didn’t belong in his body, always trying to fold into himself and take up less space.

But all of this was endearing to Linshu. He loved that awkward boy whose eyes lit up for him. He loved the way that only he could see Jingyan for the gem that he was. But now, anyone who saw Jingyan now would see and understand how good looking he was.

Linshu should be happy that people were finally seeing Jingyan, but he can’t explain the way it feels like he’s losing something too.

The sound of sizzling oil fills the pantry. Jingyan hums under his breath, stirring the cabbage and carrots into the wok. He’s in the middle of drizzling soya sauce into the mix when a girl strolls into the pantry. Linshu ignores her presence entirely. There’s been a few people who have wandered in and out of the pantry since they’ve been here, and Linshu is certain that she’s just another one of them.

But then the girl says, “Mister Xiao,” in a way that demands attention, and Linshu’s gaze darts to her.

The girl is pretty. She has strong features and knowing eyes, and her long black hair rests on one shoulder in a way that emphasises the line of her neck. Her clothes are expensive but understated, a quiet display of wealth, and Linshu knows from the way that she carries herself that she is used to being the most important person in every room she steps into.

She looks like someone who is used to getting what she wants, and Linshu instantly hates her.

Jingyan glances at her and, to Linshu’s dismay, flashes her a grin. Just who is this person?

“Liang Sishen?” Jingyan sets down the bottle of soya sauce and turns towards her. “Don’t you have a dinner appointment today? What brings you here?”

Linshu scowls at the fact that Jingyan would know about her schedule, but his displeasure isn’t noticed by either of them. Sishen tips her head up, playfully averting her eyes from Jingyan for a moment before she returns his smile with her own crooked one.

“I smelled something nice and thought I’d take a look.”

This Liang Sishen person walks right into Jingyan’s space and leans over the wok, gaze flickering to Jingyan with a glint in her eyes. Her height compliments Jingyan’s, and it almost looks as though she’s got her chin perched on his shoulder. Linshu despises her with every fibre of his being. There are only a handful of people who Jingyan would be comfortable with in his personal space, and the fact that she all but waltzes next to him is a very open display of their closeness. But Linshu is Jingyan’s Bestest Friend in the Entire World. Who is she? Someone who knows Jingyan for all of one year?

Disgust roils in Linshu’s stomach.

Jingyan shakes his head, laughing silently to himself. He uses the spatula to push the vegetables around, and the aroma in the air intensifies quickly. “It looks better than it tastes. My mother’s cooking skills aren’t genetic, unfortunately.”

“Let me be the judge of that.”

Sishen cocks her head to the side. Her hair falls prettily against her bare neck in a smooth curve. Linshu might not be interested in her at all, but he can recognise that it’s a move that would send most men flailing. She’s attractive and she knows it– a truly lethal combination. But Jingyan, in true buffalo style, doesn’t react to it at all. He merely raises a brow and turns his focus back to stirring the vegetables in the wok.

“I’m afraid that my cooking is subpar at best, and will only disappoint you.”

“Then it will be a cause for celebration– to finally discover something Mister Xiao isn’t good at.”

Linshu knows what Jingyan’s going to say. Jingyan will say that Sishen is praising him too highly, and that there are actually many things he’s deficient at. He will dismiss her compliment and pretend he never heard it in the first place.

So when Jingyan keeps mum, his eyes trained on the wok, Linshu knows something is wrong– different. Then something truly mortifying happens: a blush creeps from Jingyan’s face to the tips of his ears. And if that wasn’t bad enough, Sishen’s eyes twinkle with satisfaction, and Linshu’s blood turns into ice.

Were they.. were they flirting?

Linshu mentally runs through all the times that he teased and flirted with Jingyan, trying to pull out an instance where Jingyan reacted like this and coming up short. The Jingyan he knew would always try to downplay his strengths and achievements. Every single time that Linshu sang his praises, Jingyan would always wear a sceptical frown on his face and brush it off. Jingyan had never accepted them, and Linshu always believed that this was how Jingyan reacted to being complimented or praised.

But here is hard proof that it was just a false belief, because Jingyan is blushing and Linshu isn’t the cause of it.

Jingyan clears his throat, still looking only at the wok. “Maybe next time. This isn’t for me– it’s for Xiaoshu.” Jingyan turns halfway, nodding at Linshu in a casual introduction. “He hasn’t had dinner.”

A tiny, indignant part of Linshu is glad that his presence is finally acknowledged.

“Oh, Xiaoshu,” Sishen says cryptically, arching a brow. She gives Linshu a once-over, as if she was seeing him for the first time. Linshu isn’t sure what he’s more offended by: the fact that she gave him a once-over, or that she really hadn’t noticed him before this. Sishen extends a hand to him, cold and polite. “It’s nice to meet you, I’m–”

“Liang Sishen,” Linshu cuts her off, giving her a dry look. “I know. I heard.”

Sishen raises her other brow while Jingyan throws Linshu a look over his shoulder, but says nothing otherwise. Linshu counts it as a win, even though it’s hard to feel good about it. It’s hard to feel anything but shitty in a situation like this.

“Well,” Sishen says, retracting her hand once it becomes clear that Linshu has no intention of shaking it. She looks at Linshu again, sizing him up, before she turns back to Jingyan. “I’ll take you up on that offer another day.”

Don’t even think about it, Linshu thinks acridly.

Jingyan turns off the heat and looks at Sishen, then at Linshu, then again at Sishen. He draws his brows together, picking up on the weird tension between them. “Alright,” Jingyan says carefully, eyes straying to Linshu. “Another day it is.”

Sishen leaves the way she entered, with her head held high and her shoes tapping against the tiles loudly, announcing her departure as they fade into the background. When she’s out of earshot, Jingyan slants Linshu a look as he transfers the food onto a plate. He starts the fire again and cracks an egg into the hot wok. A hiss rises in the air as the edges of the egg turn white immediately.

Linshu sits at the table with his arms still crossed on his chest, and remains like that even when Jingyan serves him the plate of stir-fried cabbage and a perfect sunny-side up egg on a bowl of rice. It’s a simple, nutritious meal, and Linshu knows that the lack of meat is due to an unfortunate coincidence of Linshu’s unexpected arrival and Jingyan having to make do with the groceries he’s allowed to use. But Linshu can see his reflection on the still runny egg yolk on his rice, and he sees the petulant press of his lips. It makes something ugly scratch in his lungs, something Linshu isn’t intricately familiar with but isn’t going to delude himself about.

Linshu is jealous, and he hates that he is.

“What is this?” Linshu glares harder at the food. He doesn’t mean to sound like a bitch, but he’s so irritated with himself that he’s unthinkingly taking it out on Jingyan. “I’m not vegetarian.”

Jingyan pulls out a chair and sits across Linshu, completely unfazed by Linshu’s foul mood. “This is showing up unannounced.” Jingyan rests an arm on the table. “I would have brought you to the canteen, but they’re closed now. This is why you should’ve told me your flight details, I would have made arrangements for you.”

Linshu picks up the chopsticks with a sulk, jabbing the yolk with more force than necessary. “I didn’t come unannounced,” Linshu refutes weakly, “I told you I was coming, didn’t I?”

Jingyan doesn’t even bother to argue with Linshu. “I have some bread in my room. You can eat it if you’re hungry tonight.”

“Who says I’m staying here for the night?”

“Your luggage in my room says so. Besides, the fact that your luggage is here instead of your house tells me that you didn’t tell your parents about this trip. Are you really going to show up at your house now and expect your parents to be happy about it?”

Linshu spoons some food into his mouth, letting his silence answer for him.

Jingyan’s food is delicious– not that Linshu didn’t already know, but it’s even better now. Linshu guesses that this is a product of being away from home and having to be more self-sufficient. Jingyan probably cooks a lot more now than he ever had to at home, and it shows in the way that the cabbage is soft enough to chew easily, but not overly soft that it loses its crunch. The egg is crispy on the sides but not charred at the bottom. It’s a good meal and Linshu wants to tell Jingyan how good it is, but the image of Jingyan with his embarrassed expression and red ears flashes in his mind, and he freezes.

That’s right. Jingyan prefers some people’s compliments to his, anyway. Linshu narrows his eyes at the bowl of half eaten rice, stabbing his chopstick into it as he scoops another mouthful.

As if sensing Linshu’s change of mood, Jingyan sighs. “Sishen is a friend,” he says, staring at Linshu pointedly. “She’s one of the first friends I made here. We met at the orientation. She’s studying law.”

“I don’t care,” Linshu says.

“She’s nice. She helped me a few times when I was in a tight spot,” Jingyan continues.

“That’s nice, but I still don’t care. She’s your friend, not mine.”

“I thought that was the whole point of your visit,” Jingyan says, unamused. “Weren’t you worried that I was being bullied by my friends? I’m not. You just met one of them, I think you can tell if I was happy to see them or not.”

Yeah, Linshu can tell. He can tell just how happy Jingyan was to see her. That grin, the way he moved with her next to him, with her face so near his that it looked–

Linshu shovels more food into his mouth and chews on it with increasing violence. He thinks his teeth were grinding together at some point, but he doesn’t care. He doesn’t. He’s not going to think about anything. Nope. Nothing. Not about how tasty the carrots were, not even about how he’s running out of rice to go with his cabbage, and definitely not about the affection in Jingyan’s eyes as he returned Sishen’s smile.

Jingyan slides another bowl of rice onto the table. Linshu hadn’t even noticed him leaving the table. There’s an egg on this one too.

“Eat up,” Jingyan says, sitting down again. “I’ll show you where the showers are after this.”

Linshu emerges from the shower smelling like Jingyan, which is nice. He tries to inhale the scent on his skin as much as he can without crossing the line of what is generally socially acceptable. It’s just– Jingyan has really good taste, okay?

He shuffles back to Jingyan’s room to find Jingyan sitting on his bed, in the middle of blowing his hair. Jingyan’s eyes find Linshu, and he breaks into a smile that warms Linshu’s belly.

“There you are. I was worried you got lost.”

Linshu closes the door with his foot. “Should’ve waited for me if you were so worried.”

“You were taking too long.” Jingyan turns off the hairdryer, waving Linshu over.

They used to do this often, before. Linshu doesn’t remember exactly when it started, but he thinks it might have been the day that Jingyu brought them out to the zoo. Linshu’s parents were out of town, and Linshu was staying over at Jingyan’s house. With Jingyan’s mother busy running her clinic, the task of watching them fell on Jingyu, who brought them out to the zoo to exhaust their seemingly boundless energy.

It was late by the time they reached home, and all Linshu wanted after his bath was to fall into bed and sleep. But Jingyan dragged him out of bed, insisting that sleeping with wet hair would give him a headache in the morning. Linshu didn’t care less, but it eased Jingyan’s worries, so Linshu sat cross-legged in front of Jingyan, letting the older boy ruffle his hair as the hair dryer whirred loudly.

After that day, it didn’t matter what time of the day it was. As long as Linshu’s hair was wet, Jingyan would dry it for him. It never occurred to Linshu that it might have been weird until Nihuang pointed it out one afternoon, when the sun was particularly merciless and the air drier than usual.

“Why is Jingyan-ge blowing your hair?” Nihuang asked, bored. Linshu blinked.

“To dry it..?” Linshu said like it was obvious, because it was.

“Won’t it dry naturally?”

“It’s faster this way,” Jingyan replied, smiling obliviously at the back of Linshu’s head as he waved the hair dryer around.

Nihuang looked at Jingyan before fixing Linshu with a look. “I’m sure it is.”

Linshu had taken more notice of how much Jingyan enjoyed drying his hair for him since then, and it became clear to him that there was no actual need for Jingyan to dry his hair every single time it got wet. But Linshu also knew how much Jingyan enjoyed doing this for him, so he kept going along with it. He just didn’t think that Jingyan would still want to do this for him even now.

Everyone knows that Jingyan can never say no to Linshu, but few people know that the same is true for Linshu.

Linshu takes his seat on the floor between Jingyan’s legs. He wiggles back until his back is resting against the edge of the mattress, and the hair dryer starts with a quiet bzzz not long later. Gentle fingers scrap through his scalp as they comb through his wet hair, picking them up in clumps that eventually separate into strands.

It’s easy for people to label Jingyan as a man with no patience or finesse. Jingyan has been trained in wushu since young, and excels in a wide range of sports. He’s quick to react and his temper tends to rub people wrongly, but the fingers carding through his hair leave only the most delicate touches. It’s easy to forget that these fingers belong to the hand that once broke someone’s nose with a spectacularly loud crunch for running his mouth at Linshu.

Jingyan sits quietly behind Linshu, lifting up tufts of Linshu’s hair with the same thoroughness and dedication he gives to more important matters. For a long time, the only noise in the room is the rush of warm air through the mouth of the hair dryer. It’s peaceful and tranquil, and the exhaustion of the past few days begins to catch up with him. His eyelids begin drooping lower and lower until they close fully, and he tilts his head back gradually, exposing the column of his neck.

The fingers in his hair pause. The rhythm is broken. Linshu’s eyelids flutter open, and the question on the tip of his tongue dies there.

Jingyan is staring at him with an indecipherable expression. His eyes are dark as they study Linshu, and for the first time in his life, Linshu cannot read Jingyan. The hair dryer hovers over his head, pointing away from him as Jingyan holds Linshu’s gaze, lips slightly parted where his smile should have been. They’re close enough that Linshu can see the smallest movements of his eyes, silently searching Linshu’s face, and Linshu wonders if he’s wearing the same face, the both of them trying to find something in each other without giving away anything themselves.

It’s a dangerous game that they’re playing. The air feels charged and the comfortable silence from before is gone, replaced by something dense. The moment drags on, but time is inconsequential. Nothing exists outside of this room, and nothing matters but the vague sense of longing that blankets Linshu.

Longing? Longing for what?

“I can see up your nostrils,” Linshu blurts out. “There’s this nose hair trimmer I use that’s really good. I can recommend it to you, if you’d like.”

Jingyan’s hand flies to his face, patting the bottom of his nose hurriedly before he realises it’s just Linshu being an asshole. “Get out,” Jingyan says, rolling his eyes. He turns off the hair dryer as he kicks Linshu lightly. “Go away. Get lost.”

Linshu rolls over with laughter, because Jingyan is laughing and this whole thing is suddenly really funny. Jingyan throws his pillow at Linshu which Linshu doesn’t bother to deflect. The strangeness between them dissipates and they are children playing in their own bubble again. It’s hard to have moments like this anymore. From the moment that Linshu learnt of his feelings for Jingyan, he also knew that it would become increasingly more difficult to pretend that he didn’t want anything more. The simplicity of being only friends was lost, and with it the happy days of their childhood.

But it’s still nice to be able to pretend.

Jingyan sobers up first. He takes Linshu’s towel and slips it onto the other hanger on the cupboard as he nods at Zhanying’s bed.

“You can sleep there for the night. I’ve changed the sheets already, so it shouldn’t be a problem.”

Linshu frowns. “What about Zhanying?”

“He’s at night study.”

“And why aren’t you at night study?” Linshu asks, folding his arms.

“Do you want me to be?” Jingyan raises a brow. Linshu raises an eyebrow back at Jingyan, defiantly keeping silent. Jingyan rolls his eyes again as he sits heavily on his bed, pressing his hands on his knees. “I have an early morning consultation with my professor tomorrow.”

Linshu nods wordlessly. Jingyan settles in his bed and pulls the blanket over his legs. When Jingyan spots Linshu standing still in the middle of the room, staring at Zhanying’s bed warily, Jingyan pushes himself up on his elbow.

“Aren’t you going to sleep?” Jingyan asks.

Linshu nods again. “Yeah, it’s just..” he sucks in his lip and ponders on the best way of saying it. “It’s weird to sleep on a stranger’s bed.”

“Zhanying isn’t a stranger.” Jingyan counters. “You’ve known him for years.”

“Yeah, I’ve known of his existence for years, but that doesn’t mean..” Linshu sighs, rubbing a hand down his face tiredly. “I don’t know. It’s just weird. Does that sound weird? That I think it’s weird?”

Jingyan considers the problem for a moment. “How about sleeping in my bed then? Would that be weird for you too?”

Linshu’s face falls. “Jingyan, I’m not going to chase you out of–”

“No.” Jingyan raises a hand, cutting Linshu off. “You’re not chasing me out of my bed, I’m choosing to sleep in Zhanying’s bed.”

Jingyan captains Linshu to his bed before turning off the lights. A few seconds pass before Linshu hears fabric rustling from the other bed, where Jingyan is no doubt getting acquainted with the change of scenery.

“Goodnight, Xiaoshu,” Jingyan says with a yawn at the end. Linshu nods stiffly, still running his hands over Jingyan’s blanket.

“Goodnight.”

Linshu lies on Jingyan’s bed, staring at the ceiling with his thoughts roaring in his head. Jingyan’s bed, unlike Zhanying’s, doesn’t have freshly changed sheets. The bedsheet retains some of Jingyan’s body heat, the blanket is soft from use, and the pillow still smells like Jingyan. It’s comforting and feels close to what home is to Linshu. He used to spend so many nights sneaking into Jingyan’s bed, wrapping his limbs around Jingyan tightly from behind, that being in Jingyan’s bed is as close a substitute to actually having Jingyan in the same bed. Of course, it would be much better if Jingyan were actually here, but Linshu doesn’t feel like he has the right to be that greedy anymore.

Linshu’s gaze drifts over to Jingyan across from him. Jingyan is facing the wall, back towards Linshu. It’s not an intentional position meant to shut Linshu out– that’s just the direction of how Jingyan’s been sleeping his entire life, lying on his right side. But for some reason, it feels significant this time. There’s a gap between them that Linshu’s trying to bridge, yet all his attempts end with him learning just how much bigger it is than he thought it was.

His thoughts wander back to Sishen and her smooth voice, the way she slotted herself next to Jingyan like that space had been reserved for her. He thinks about their back-and-forth, playful and natural. He thinks about the image of her tilting her head up, so close to Jingyan’s shoulder that it was a miracle they weren’t touching. He thinks about the warmth in Jingyan’s eyes and the tender smile that stayed on his face the entire time.

Wasn’t that how it used to be between them? Wasn’t it him who used to claim the space next to Jingyan? Wasn’t it him who used to bicker with Jingyan about the smallest thing in the world, letting their stubbornness carry the conversation until something else distracted them? Wasn’t it him who used to touch Jingyan wherever he was permitted? Throwing his arms around Jingyan’s neck, wiggling himself into Jingyan’s arms, resting his head on Jingyan’s shoulder and waking up with his head pillowed on Jingyan’s lap?

Wasn’t Linshu the only one who used to be able to make Jingyan smile like that?

Because Linshu knew that he was in love with Jingyan, and had been for a long time. And he knew that Jingyan loved him back, too. But Linshu believed that the world existed for them, and thought that they would have all the time in the world to figure it out. In a perfect world, Jingyan would realise his feelings for Linshu and they would be together. Linshu would be the only one for Jingyan, and Jingyan would be the only one for Linshu. It would just be a matter of time.

But the space next to Jingyan no longer has his name, and Linshu isn’t the only one who can match Jingyan word for word. The right to touch Jingyan no longer belongs exclusively to him, just as the ability to make Jingyan smile that smile was picked up by other people.

The image of Sishen standing next to Jingyan floats back to the top of his mind. He always thought that he and Jingyan looked the most compatible with each other, but.. maybe that isn't the case anymore.

Unable to look at Jingyan any longer, Linshu turns away. He pulls the blanket to his chin and clutches onto it like a lifeline, staring without looking at the small cracks on the wall, illuminated by the moonlight seeping in through the window.

Jingyan has never been closer to him in the past year than he was now, so why does Linshu feel like he is so much further away now?

The mattress behind him sinks slowly. A hand snakes around Linshu’s waist as a chest sidled up to his back. Linshu can feel the uniform heartbeat against his back, steady and strong.

“Stop thinking so much,” Jingyan says, his words coming out as warm puffs of breath on Linshu’s nape. “You’re disturbing the peace.”

“It’s because you hardly ever think about anything that you know peace,” Linshu says without heat.

Jingyan snorts and curls his hand around Linshu’s waist like it was always meant to be there. The weight of Jingyan’s fingers against his waist short-circuits his brain for a split second. Electricity buzzes under his skin and he feels hyper-aware of every part of his body. He feels the way that Jingyan’s leg crosses his, the way that Jingyan’s hair tickles the shell of his ear, the way that Jingyan tugs him closer until they’re flushed together. Heat radiates from Jingyan like a boiler, but that’s not why Linshu’s palms grow sweaty.

Briefly, Linshu wonders why he’s even flustered at all. It’s not the first time they’ve slept together on the same bed, although it is the first time that Jingyan is the one doing the bed invasion. Jingyan has always been touchy too, even if he wasn’t as touchy as Linshu, and Jingyan cuddling Linshu isn’t a surprise.

Maybe it’s because Linshu’s so keenly aware of how much he yearns for the past that makes this different from all the other times they shared the same bed. With how Linshu had been mourning the loss of Jingyan’s undivided attention and love, Linshu finds that he’s not sure how he should act now that he’s finally got it.

So instead of trying to be reasonable about it, Linshu decides it’s easier to be unreasonable.

“Why’re you even squeezing on this tiny single bed with me?” Linshu says testily, “We’re not going to fit. One of us is going to fall off and it’s not going to be me, so go back and sleep on Zhanying’s bed.”

“You’re telling me to go away now? After ten years of trespassing into my room in the middle of the night and sleeping all over me?”

“That’s– that’s different.” Linshu’s face is burning. “We were smaller back then. Squeezing together wasn’t a problem. But now you’re..” Linshu trails off, suddenly at a loss for words. “You’re..”

Bigger, taller, more handsome than ever–

Without turning back, Linshu can feel the displacement in the air as Jingyan lifts his head just enough to peep at Linshu.

“I’m..?” Jingyan prompts.

Linshu blows out a breath of frustration. He pushes himself up, turning around to meet Jingyan’s gaze, and it suddenly occurs to him how close their faces are. In the wan moonlight, Jingyan’s eyes are darker than usual, and the mischievous half-smile he wears is both foreign and familiar to Linshu. He had seen it before, but always because of some shared secret they kept. Knowing smiles, hushed giggles. But this time Jingyan was the one who knows something Linshu doesn’t, and Linshu doesn’t know how to feel about that.

There’s a lot of things that Linshu once knew but doesn’t anymore. They’re both growing up, but Linshu never considered the possibility that they would grow apart until the signs were too obvious to ignore.

Jingyan’s smile fades gradually as the humour drains out from between them, leaving a loaded silence behind.

“Where are you now, Xiaoshu?” Jingyan says quietly.

“What kind of question is that? I’m here, aren’t I?” Linshu chuckles wryly.

“You know that’s not what I meant.” Jingyan whispers. Linshu tears his gaze away, looking out of the window at the chalky moon hidden behind wispy clouds. “You don’t have to tell me what’s bothering you if you don’t want to,” Jingyan says. There’s resignation in his tone. “But I wish you wouldn’t have to pretend like you’re not upset around me. I may not be able to cheer you up, but I still want to keep you company until you feel better, that’s all.”

Linshu stares at Jingyan for a long time. There’s a sharp pain in his heart that Linshu knows is a physical manifestation of his guilt. Is this how they grow apart? Little moments of not knowing snowballing into something much bigger as time goes on?

Linshu lies back on the bed slowly, inserting himself back into Jingyan’s arms. Seconds trickle by before Jingyan’s thumb on his waist begins to draw circles onto his skin, and even more seconds go by before Linshu speaks.

“Why was she calling you Mister Xiao?”

It’s not the question he wanted to ask, not really, but it’s close enough. Everything else is too raw, too abstract to put into words, but Jingyan will understand.

Jingyan’s thumb on his waist slows for just a fraction of a second before going back to its original pace. It’s a giveaway that Jingyan had known this was coming. Jingyan had probably been waiting for Linshu to burst since dinner, and Linshu knows that after their conversation at dinner, it’s too easy for Jingyan to tease him about his question. Something like I thought you didn’t care? would be expected, and Linshu wouldn’t even be annoyed about it because if their roles were reversed, it would be exactly what he would say.

Instead, Jingyan explains quietly, “We were highly encouraged to sign up for some volunteer activities during our orientation. Sishen and I registered to be volunteer teachers at the local primary school and we were posted to a class together. She’s been calling me Mister Xiao ever since then. She still thinks it’s hilarious, and since it isn’t offending anyone..” Linshu can feel Jingyan’s shrug against his shoulder. “I think she might have forgotten my name by now, anyway.”

“That’s dumb. Jingyan is a much better name. You look like a Jingyan. Calling you Mister Xiao just reminds me of your father and his grumpy face.”

“That’s because you know my father. Besides, he’s only grumpy when he sees you.”

Linshu frowns. “Wait, really?” Linshu feels the vibrations of Jingyan’s mhmm rumbling through his chest. “Why?”

“He thinks you’re always dragging me into some kind of trouble.”

“And you didn’t defend me?”

“With your track record?” Jingyan muses. Linshu glares at the wall. “But don’t worry,” Jingyan continues, dropping his voice as his words come out more sluggishly, on the cusp of falling asleep. His breath fans against Linshu’s nape, sending chills down his spine. Linshu suppresses the mini shiver, trying to remain as relaxed as possible. “I’ve known what I was getting into for years. I’m not going to walk away.”

Silence envelopes them again as Jingyan’s breaths even out and the thumb on his waist stops entirely. It’s only after a few minutes, with Jingyan’s words replaying over and over in his head, that Linshu gathers the courage to close his hand over Jingyan’s, running his thumb across Jingyan’s rough knuckles, wishing he could press a kiss to each of them.

No one falls off the bed, not that Linshu knows anyway. It is the best sleep that Linshu has had since he left a year ago.

Linshu wakes up feeling totally rested. The crick in his neck is gone and the ache in his feet has disappeared overnight. Linshu is feeling so rested that when he wakes up to an empty room, his mind immediately reminds him that it’s because Jingyan had some early morning consultation to attend. Sunlight tickles his toes from where it’s poking out of the blanket, and it’s only then that Linshu notices that the curtains have been drawn.

Jingyan must have drawn the curtains before he left. This puts a smile on Linshu’s face.

Linshu stretches before getting off the bed. It’s time to wash up and get something to eat, and then maybe he’ll be able to polish his essay before the deadline in a few hours. He swings his legs over and does another stretch, making to get up when he spies something new on Jingyan’s table.

It’s a food thermos.

Curiosity strikes as Linshu inches closer. There’s a post-it on the thermos with Jingyan’s handwriting on it, so it’s clearly meant for him.

I bought chicken porridge for you. It should still be warm when you eat it. Otherwise, you can reheat it using the microwave in the pantry. Please don’t put the container inside the microwave, it will explode and you will be arrested and charged and I don’t have time to keep visiting you in prison. Transfer the porridge into a bowl. I’ll be back before lunch.

Linshu tries to resist the urge to roll his eyes for all of one second before he gives in. He’s not sure what he’s more offended by: Jingyan thinking that he would actually put the entire thermos container or that he wouldn’t visit Linshu everyday in prison. Anyway, it’s not as if the tiny microwave in the pantry was tall enough to fit this thing inside. Linshu is not stupid, but he is hungry though. He wolfs down everything in less than five minutes. It’s good, but the porridge that Jingyan makes for him is even better, and the porridge that Aunty Jing makes is the best he’s ever had.

The rest of the morning passes in the blink of an eye. It’s surprisingly easy to get into the flow, and Linshu thinks that part of it is the change in environment. While there’s nothing wrong with the room in his school, there’s no substitute for the calm and focus that a good sleep can provide. Linshu goes through his work with a clearheadedness that he hasn’t experienced in months. By the time that Jingyan comes back, Linshu’s already done adding all his citations a few hours ahead of time.

“You’re up,” Jingyan says, closing the door. “I thought you’d sleep longer. You looked like you needed the rest.”

“I needed to finish my final assignment. The deadline’s tonight and I wanted to proofread it before submission.”

A look crosses Jingyan’s face. His lips thin into a taut line as he approaches Linshu, putting his bag on the floor.

“You wouldn’t have to rush your deadlines if you didn’t fly all the way here,” Jingyan mumbles.

“Has anyone ever told you that you have such a way with words?” Linshu says blandly. “You can just thank me for coming here, you know? It’s only two words compared to whatever you just said.”

“I’m not thanking you, is the point,” Jingyan says. He drags out Zhanying’s chair and turns it to face Linshu before taking a seat. “I’m really glad that you’re here, Xiaoshu, but I don’t want you to keep doing things like this. I don’t want to become a distraction to you. What would your parents say if they knew that you were here when you have exams next week?”

“They’d ask if I’ve prepared for them, and I’d say yes.”

“Xiaoshu..”

“Alright.” Linshu closes his laptop, signalling the end of the topic. “What’s for lunch, anyway? Is it going to be something nice? Are you going to surprise me with a meal at an extremely popular restaurant?”

Jingyan looks like he wants to pursue the subject, but years of being Linshu’s best friend has imparted him with the wisdom to pick his battles. So Jingyan smiles at Linshu, genuine and sincere.

“Of course I’ll bring you somewhere good. It’s the best on campus.”

Linshu lights up. He’s one step away from clapping his hands in excitement. “Is it really hard to get a seat there?”

“Unbelievably hard.” Jingyan confirms. He takes a glance at his watch and his smile widens. “But we’ll be able to beat the lunch crowd. We should be able to get a seat.”

Linshu hooks an arm around Jingyan, dragging Jingyan towards him. “Aww, Jingyan, you’re going to spoil me.”

Jingyan laughs, bumping their heads together. “Only the best for our Xiaoshu.”

Linshu gives Jingyan a withering look.

“You said that you were bringing me to the best, most popular restaurant on campus.”

Jingyan stops scraping the last of his rice onto his spoon, looking up at Linshu wide-eyed. “This is the most popular restaurant we have on campus.”

“It’s a canteen.” Linshu deadpans. “Can this even be considered as ‘popular’? It’s crowded because it’s the cheapest option.”

“It’s crowded because the food is good,” Jingyan corrects, finishing off the last spoonful of his food. Jingyan gives Linshu’s clean plate a pointed look. “Besides, I didn’t hear you complaining about the taste either.”

“Still doesn’t make it a restaurant.”

“Since when did you care about where we eat? You don’t even care what you eat. You’ve eaten mouldy bread that you found in your room.”

“I was broke,” Linshu says defensively, “and it’s not like you told me not to eat it. In fact, I distinctly remember hearing you tell me to eat it. You even offered to buy nutella for me to spread on it.”

“That was sarcasm. I didn’t think you’d actually go and eat it. Do you need a scholarship to know that eating mouldy food is a very bad idea?”

“No, but I think the fact that I am the only one with multiple scholarship offers says something.”

“Yeah, and the fact that you’re on a first name basis with the best hospital’s A&E doctor says something as well.”

“Lin Chen and I are friends. Friends generally tend to be on a first name basis with each other.”

“Weekly visits will do that to people,” Jingyan says flatly, “And I don’t think he considers you his friend, anyway. He’s never happy to see you around.” Before Linshu can retort, Jingyan glances around and begins to stand. “Come on, we should go. Other people are looking for seats.”

They leave the canteen quickly, jostling against more shoulders than Linshu is comfortable with, but the smile that Jingyan flashes at him once they’re out of the canteen more than makes up for the tiny bit of grumpiness he held inside.

Instead of heading straight back to Jingyan’s room, Jingyan takes him on a tour of the school. He brings Linshu to the main library, supposedly the oldest building on campus, and shows him around his own faculty. They run into a few people who wave to Jingyan in passing or come close enough to say hi, and each encounter leaves Linshu feeling more and more unsure of what the little pinch in his chest means.

There is a big pond in the middle of the engineering faculty which is pretty impressive. The water is clear enough to see some koi fish swimming about in loose circles. Linshu stares at them for a while, at the little ripples across the surface of the lake they create that doesn’t go very far. Floating on the restless surface of the water is an image of Jingyan and him standing next to each other, so close that their hands were nearly brushing each other’s. It’s an image that Linshu’s so used to seeing by now, owing to their shared childhood, but for some reason it gives Linshu pause this time.

Linshu is still staring at their reflection when a voice brings him out of his reverie.

“Xiao Jingyan?”

Jingyan’s head snaps up and, in the reflection, Linshu can see a grin break across Jingyan’s face.

“Xiao Lu?”

A tall, well-dressed man walks towards Jingyan with a smile that’s far too bright for Linshu’s liking. It’s a smile that speaks of familiarity, fondness and closeness that transcends basic friendship into good friends, and Linshu has never heard of a Xiao Lu before. Plus, Linshu is sure that the man’s name is not Xiao Lu. It’s definitely a nickname, and Jingyan doesn’t just call anyone by their nickname. There is only one person Jingyan calls by their nickname– well, was– and it’s very hard not to feel uneasy.

To make matters worse, when the man stops walking, a few steps away from them, Jingyan gravitates towards him and away from Linshu.

“I thought it was you. I’ve been meaning to catch up with you, but things have been hectic.”

“I’ve heard,” Jingyan chuckles, “but if anyone can help Professor Cai Quan set up the new team at the R&D centre, it’s definitely you.”

“What’s this?” the man arches a brow, “I haven’t seen you in two months and you’re already learning how to sweet talk people?”

Jingyan scratches the back of his neck sheepishly. “What’re you doing here?” Jingyan’s gaze falls on the files in Xiao Lu’s arms. “Did you come to collect the translations?”

“I came to read the translations. These are the ones I’m bringing back.” Xiao Lu’s smile softens as warmth drifts into his eyes. “You did a really good job this time. I’m sure that Professor Cai Quan will say the same. You know how much he appreciates your help with translating these research articles for the team.”

Translating research materials? Was Jingyan doing such a thing? Linshu combs through all his conversations with Jingyan but he can’t remember Jingyan ever mentioning such a thing– and doing a good one at that too. It was strange because Jingyan told Linshu all his achievements, the big and the small. Surely he would mention that he had been helping to translate research articles in his first year of university.

Then again, Jingyan never mentioned the little teaching stunt he had with Sishen during their orientation either, so who knows what else Jingyan might have done that Linshu wasn’t aware of. Clearly, he wasn’t aware that Jingyan had been so involved in his school. He always gave Linshu the impression that he kept to himself and his small group of friends, but it was becoming obvious to Linshu that this wasn’t the case.

And when Jingyan and Xiao Lu burst into a small round of laughter, something else becomes clear to Linshu: Jingyan had become much more personable than he ever used to be. He’s friendly enough that people who recognise him want to acknowledge him either with a wave or with a verbal hello, something that the old Jingyan would never have been able to accomplish on his own, not with his stubborn temper and lukewarm attitude to strangers.

Linshu feels like he is having an out of body experience. He’s watching Jingyan and Xiao Lu chat as if he’s not there, and in a way, Linshu realises that it is as if he isn’t there, because his presence doesn’t add or take away anything meaningful from their conversation.

Was this how Jingyan felt when he went on the school trip and came back as good friends with Zhen Ping and Li Gang and began to join them during their study sessions? Was this how Jingyan felt when Linshu grew close to Lin Chen after all those months of constant hospital visits, when they started to hang out outside of the hospital walls? Was this how Jingyan felt when Linshu befriended the music genius in their school, Gong Yu, and started to discuss music theory with her while Jingyan stood quietly next to him?

Linshu doesn’t know if it’s hurt or spite that makes him clear his throat sharply, interrupting them.

“I’m sorry, I don’t believe we’ve met before,” Xiao Lu says, half-apologetic. He offers a hand. “I’m Lu Xiao Di. You are..?”

“I’m Lin Shu, Jingyan’s best friend,” Linshu says, taking Xiao Lu’s hand for a second before dropping it.

To Linshu’s irritation, Xiao Lu doesn’t seem fazed by his clipped introduction at all. Instead, Xiao Lu takes it in stride and smiles at Linshu the way a parent smiles at their child. But Jingyan gives Linshu a look as he steps in.

“Xiaoshu’s visiting for a while, so I’m showing him around. He just arrived last night.”

Xiao Lu looks between them. The annoyingly kind smile on his face turns knowing, and it irks Linshu even more that Xiao Lu looks like he knows something about Jingyan that he doesn’t.

“I won’t keep the both of you. Linshu, I hope you’ll enjoy your visit here. Jingyan, we’ll catch up after your exams are over. Study hard.”

Linshu turns to Jingyan once Xiao Lu is gone. “You’ve been translating research materials? Since when?”

“They were recruiting volunteers last semester and I applied.” Jingyan shrugs like he’s talking about the weather. “It seemed like a good way to learn new things– and it has been. I’ve learnt a lot from my seniors and professors.”

Jingyan is doing that thing again, where he folds in on himself when someone discovers something praiseworthy of him. He’s trying to play it off as something ordinary and unremarkable. But Jingyan wasn’t doing this earlier when Xiao Lu was praising him on the job well done, and he certainly didn’t do it when Sishen sang his praises last night.

The thought of Sishen triggers an unpleasant taste in Linshu’s mouth.

“Why didn’t you ever mention it to me?” Linshu says, and it comes out with a bite that isn’t supposed to be there. Jingyan looks surprised for a moment, but he goes along with it like he always does with Linshu’s moods.

“It just didn’t seem worth bringing up.”

“Of course this is worth bringing up! Why wouldn’t it be? Do you think they’ll just allow any first year translate research articles?”

“You’re representing your school in international competitions, Xiaoshu. I didn’t think that this was anything noteworthy.”

Linshu huffs. “You’re such a stupid water buffalo. Stop being annoying! I’m supposed to be praising you but all I’m doing is scold you.”

“Have you considered that maybe you’re just easy to annoy?” Jingyan says, wearing an angelic smile. Linshu’s eye twitches.

Suddenly, it feels like they’re ten and twelve again, and their circle of friends they have are one and the same. It’s almost easy to forget the unsettling feeling of being displaced, and for a moment Linshu lets himself forget it.

It isn’t until Jingyan nods for them to leave that Linshu turns back to the pond. In the reflection, Jingyan is walking away, leaving Linshu behind.

They return to Jingyan’s room to study for the rest of the day. It’s a familiar routine that they fall back into, each of them settling into their own work next to each other. The rapid and erratic sound of fingers tapping on keys is interspersed by pages flipping and the soft drag of pen on paper. The breeze slips through the opened window along with faraway sounds of the university, of bicycle bells ringing and the white noise of chatter. Jingyan takes regular breaks, refilling Linshu’s tea cup with hot water and placing a plate of biscuits between them, and Linshu looks up once in awhile to see Jingyan’s brows knitted together, his chin resting on his palm as he ponders on a question on his own laptop screen.

It’s during one of these stolen glances that Linshu finds himself opening the can of worms he tried to bury earlier. In another world, Linshu would have chosen to stay. He would have stayed in spite of everyone telling him to go, because there was no offer tempting enough, no place better than being with Jingyan.

In that world, Linshu would have gone to university with Jingyan. They would have applied for a room together, and the bed where Zhanying occupies now would have been his. It would have been his sheets on that bed, his clothes in the cupboard and his books lining the shelves.

In that world, Linshu would have met all of Jingyan’s friends as they entered his life one by one. He would have been there when Sishen introduced herself, there when Jingyan signed up to translate research articles, and there when Jingyan thought about picking up that first cigarette. Linshu would have experienced things with Jingyan and created new memories with him. He would have been in those photos and videos, he would have been the one taking them too.

In that world, Linshu would have had time. He would have been the one standing next to Jingyan, the one with all the inside jokes and teasing smiles. He would have been the one who made Jingyan flustered, the one whose compliments Jingyan would accept with a flush. He would have had the time to wait for Jingyan to realise his own feelings, time to watch the stupid, infuriatingly oblivious water buffalo finally reciprocate Linshu’s feelings the way he always hoped for. They would have been happy and in love, the spring of a first love and the longevity of a last love.

It’s a world that makes Linshu happy and sad in equal parts. It’s a good world, but a world that he could never live in, because in this world Linshu had chosen to go.

By the time they finish their work, the canteen has closed and they decide to order in. Linshu steals pieces of chicken from Jingyan’s plate and Jingyan tries to snatch it back, and suddenly they’re young kids again, falling all over each other in wails and giggles. The chicken disappears into someone’s mouth at some point, but they continue attacking each other with tickles and light kicks, tumbling onto the floor as they go. And when Linshu rolls onto his back, Jingyan takes the chance to grab both his wrists as they flail in the air, straddling Linshu with a triumphant grin etched onto his face. Jingyan’s eyes twinkle with mirth as they catch their breath, his hair mussed up, and then Jingyan’s already wide grin grows impossibly wide.

“I win,” Jingyan says, still winded, and suddenly–

And suddenly it’s not so innocent anymore, not when Jingyan’s weight is on his hips, not when Jingyan’s hair is messy and he’s panting lightly, not when his wrists are in Jingyan’s grip and his heart is racing and his face is burning and the urge to lean up and press his lips against Jingyan’s overwhelms Linshu.

Seconds slip away along with Jingyan’s smile as the silence between them thickens. The childish laughter in Jingyan’s eyes clouds into something complicated, something Linshu can’t decipher because it’s not something he’s ever seen on Jingyan. It’s too intense, too vulnerable and open and–

The door creaks open, breaking the spell. Jingyan and Linshu both turn to the door, where Zhanying stands calmly. Zhanying looks between Jingyan and Linshu nonchalantly, as if walking in on them in a compromising position is an everyday occurrence.

“Hi Jingyan, Linshu,” Zhanying says.

Linshu doesn’t really know what to expect with Zhanying most of the time. Zhanying is usually just.. there. He stays in his lane and does his own thing, and it works out for the both of them. Linshu and Zhanying are aware of each other’s existence but they don’t ever really need to hang out, and it’s a beautiful kind of arrangement they’ve mutually agreed on without any sort of discussion ever taking place.

But Linshu supposes that this is still Zhanying’s room, after all. Zhanying has every right to be here.. being Jingyan’s roommate and all. Linshu sighs inside, quietly mourning the loss of their private time, and gets ready for Zhanying to bring all his stuff back inside and make himself comfortable again.

Instead, Zhanying makes a beeline for the cupboard and retrieves a fresh set of clothes, bows his head at them again and closes the door carefully behind him.

Linshu tilts his head back, blinking at Jingyan. “Where’s he going?”

Jingyan shrugs a shoulder. “Who knows?”

“Isn’t he going to come back and sleep here? It’s his room, too.”

Jingyan offers Linshu a cryptic smile. “You’re here, aren’t you?” Jingyan says, like it answers anything, and gets off Linshu, letting go of his wrists with a reluctance that Linshu can’t be sure he didn’t imagine.

Jingyan puts away the plastic containers and starts to take out a fresh towel for Linshu, a clear sign that the conversation is over. Linshu wants to protest, but there’s something fragile about the moment that Linshu doesn’t know how to pick up again without breaking it. Linshu isn’t unfamiliar with that look, of course– he’s seen it before, even if it wasn’t always directed at him– it’s a look of desire and want. But the longer that Linshu revisits that moment, the more he thinks it isn’t that simple. It’s desire and want, but it’s also softer than that, deeper.

It’s a thought that occupies Linshu as he showers, as he sits between Jingyan’s legs with Jingyan’s gentle fingers treading through his hair as warm air blows out of the hair dryer. Linshu is awfully quiet today– uncharacteristically so– and he knows that he should be saying something, but the thought on his mind demands his fullest attention.

Jingyan is quiet as well– not that it’s out of character for him to be quiet, but his quiet is of a different nature this time. Whether it’s because he knows that Linshu is preoccupied with his own thoughts or whether he himself is preoccupied with his own thoughts, Linshu doesn’t know, but he’s glad for this unspoken agreement between them to leave each other to their own thoughts.

Unfortunately, not everyone gets the memo, because the door slams open with a loud bang that startles Jingyan and Linshu.

Linshu’s gaze darts to the door, where a man stands with his feet pointed outwards and his chest puffed out, the scowl on his face emphasised by the slight moustache on his face.

“Xiao Jingyan!” the man says in a booming voice. “I’ve been looking for you all day!”

The man’s unruly wavy hair that touches his shoulders and large sunglasses perched on his nose. The tight floral-patterned shirt is unbuttoned at the top, tucked into a maroon-coloured pants that hugs his legs. The man looks like a gangster, walking into the room with large strides and arms swinging leisurely next to him, and it suddenly occurs to Linshu that this is the man bullying his Jingyan.

The realisation sets Linshu on alert instantly. His body goes tense as the man steps closer to them, getting ready for the inevitable altercation to happen.

It doesn’t take a genius to deduce that the guy has experience in street fighting. From where he is sitting, Linshu can see small scars on the back of the man’s hands, scars that align with fists grazing against rough ground. But Linshu is not only trained in various martial arts, but he’s a seasoned fighter as well. He’s had his fair share of fighting, receiving punches and dishing out blows, and Linshu’s met people like this guy, who try to appear more intimidating than they really are. A clean uppercut to his jaw is all Linshu needs to put him in his place.

Linshu balls his hands into fists, clenching his jaw. No one hurts Jingyan, and especially not in front of Linshu.

Linshu bolts out from between Jingyan’s legs immediately. He puts himself between the man and Jingyan and lifts his chin defiantly. “Who are you?” Linshu asks, not trying to disguise his hostility at all. “And what’re you doing here?”

The man doesn’t answer for a long moment. Instead, he tilts his head in question as he plucks off his sunglasses with one hand, squinting at Linshu like he’s a fine print in a long contract. It’s only after a beat that Linshu realises the man is scrutinising him.

“Oi, Xiaoyan,” the man says, pointing at Linshu with his sunglasses. “Who is this?”

Xiaoyan? Xiaoyan?! Was this hooligan giving Jingyan belittling nicknames now?! The only person who gets to give Jingyan nicknames is Linshu, not some unfashionable gangster who wears sunglasses indoors.

Linshu takes a step forward, opening his mouth to say the most offensive thing that first comes to mind, but then the hair dryer’s constant bzz dies and a gentle hand is on his shoulder and Linshu can’t help but look back at Jingyan who shakes his head lightly.

Poor, poor Jingyan. How long and how badly must he have been bullied to be so pliant, so submissive? Anger flares up in Linshu’s chest again, but Jingyan gives Linshu’s shoulder a squeeze as he moves to stand between Linshu and the man.

“Did you have to be so violent with the door? We just fixed that hole from the last time you slammed it open.”

The man spins around to look at the wall behind the door. “Why’d you fix it? Didn’t I tell you that I’d talk to the dorm manager?”

“The dorm manager you threatened to beat up?” Jingyan says flatly. The man chortles, and it echoes in the small room.

“This is how you deal with him! He’s a bully! But as long as I am here, no one will dare to lay a finger on you! If they do, I’ll make sure they’ll never use those fingers again!”

Jingyan looks wholly resigned while Linshu is stuck on the fact that Jingyan is even talking to this man, much less bantering with him. This man looks like the antithesis of everything that Jingyan is. He’s loud, and brash, and demanding and–

Doesn’t that remind you of someone, a traitorous part of his mind supplies. Linshu bats it away quickly. It’s different, Linshu thinks, because Jingyan is too good for this.. whoever this is. Not even a minute into their meeting and this man is already threatening violence and slamming doors. What else does he do to Jingyan when Linshu is away?!

Linshu is too dazed to take notice of how Jingyan tugs his hand, guiding him closer as he introduces him not as Linshu, but as Xiaoshu. But the way that the man looks at Linshu doesn’t go unnoticed. In fact, he stares at Linshu as blatantly as possible, raising a sceptical brow, and Linshu is this fucking close to hissing at the guy.

“Xiaoshu, this is my friend, Xun Jianxiang.” Jingyan pats Xun Jianxiang’s arm, cracking a smile at him. Linshu feels like he’s stepped into another dimension by accident.

“This is Xiaoshu?” Xun Jianxiang asks, unimpressed. “Your genius friend who’s supposedly on scholarship in some other country?”

“Oh, so you’ve heard of me? I’m flattered. I’ve never heard Jingyan mention you before,” Linshu says snidely. Jingyan slants Linshu a look as he sighs, long-suffering and soul weary.

“Do you remember about the accommodation mix-up when I moved in? He’s the one who helped me to get this double room upgrade.”

Linshu remembers. Of course Linshu remembers. Jingyan had applied for a four-person room, but was erroneously assigned to a six-person room during orientation. Jingyan told him that he had been arguing with the dorm administrator for days before he met a kind soul who helped him to resolve the issue, and even landed him a room upgrade in the process. Linshu had been relieved that there were people looking out for Jingyan then, and pretty impressed by how Jingyan had even gotten a better room for free, but now that Linshu is looking at the said man, he feels his admiration wilting rapidly.

This is the kind soul Jingyan was talking about? This man?

Jingyan turns to Xun Jianxiang with a quizzical frown. “I thought you had a project due tomorrow. Is there a reason you came to find me?”

“Since when do I need a reason to find you? Do I need to book an appointment to see you now?” Xun Jianxiang says, “But I’ve got bad news. The professor found out about the leaked exam questions! Word is that the old bastard is going to fail everyone who knows the leaked questions!”

Jingyan nods hesitantly, furrowing his brows as he digests the information. Instead of looking worried, Jingyan looks more unsure than anything else.

“I don’t know the questions,” Jingyan finally settles on saying, as if he’s not sure if this is the answer that Xun Jianxiang’s waiting for.

Xun Jianxiang groans, waving a dismissive hand. “I know you don’t, but I do! And the bloody bastard is going to make sure I take this damn module again next semester–”

“I fail to see how this is Jingyan’s problem,” Linshu says caustically, folding his arms. “He doesn’t know the leaked questions. Sounds to me like this is a you problem.”

Xun Jianxiang scoffs and points his sunglasses at Linshu again. “You never told me that your friend was an asshole,” he says to Jingyan, “Didn’t you say that he was some kind of prodigy? Can’t he come up with something helpful?”

“Here’s a helpful tip for you: don’t cheat. Maybe you’ll finally pass the module next semester.”

“Enough,” Jingyan says, silencing them. Xun Jianxiang throws Linshu a glare, to which Linshu narrows his eyes. Jingyan pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs for the third time in less than five minutes, record-breaking stuff even for Jingyan. “Is this confirmed?” Jingyan asks Xun Jianxiang.

Xun Jianxiang shrugs. “It’s not like I can ask that geezer myself.”

Jingyan nods calmly. “Alright.”

Jingyan goes to his desk to retrieve the black hoodie that’s folded up, placed on top of his laptop. Before Jingyan can put it on, Linshu wraps his fingers around Jingyan’s wrist, holding him in place.

“Where’re you going?”

Jingyan blinks at Linshu. His gaze flickers to Linshu’s hand around his before meeting Linshu’s eyes again. “To check if it’s true.”

“And what if you get in trouble for it? What if your professor thinks you’re part of them?”

A fond smile curls the edges of Jingyan’s lips. His eyes are warm as they map Linshu’s face. “Nothing’s going to happen to me.” Jingyan covers Linshu’s hand with his reassuringly. “I’m just going to ask around for more information, that’s all. I’ll be fine.”

It’s devastating enough that Jingyan is choosing to leave Linshu behind to go out with Xun Jianxiang. Jingyan, who has always put Linshu first. Jingyan, who has always done everything with Linshu. But when Jingyan begins to peel Linshu’s fingers off his wrist, it’s another kind of pain that Linshu doesn’t have words for.

Because when has Jingyan ever let go of Linshu’s hand? For as far as Linshu can remember, it was always Jingyan holding his hand, making sure that they wouldn’t let go of each other by accident. It was this hand that Linshu could recognise anywhere, could recognise by touch. But now Jingyan was letting go– he was making Linshu let go of him– and it feels very much like the beginning of an end, a permanent goodbye that Linshu is experiencing for the first time.

And as Jingyan walks away, he surreptitiously sweeps the packet of cigarettes into his pocket. It’s a small, subtle movement, just the flick of his wrist, but Linshu catches it anyway, and all at once Linshu understands what Jingyan is going out to do. All at once, Linshu understands why he’s not being invited along.

“Get some sleep, Xiaoshu,” Jingyan says with a gentle smile, “I’ll be back soon.”

The door closes softly, but the sound it makes is eerily similar to the sound of Linshu’s heart breaking.

There is a crack in the wall that Linshu has been staring at for what felt like hours. It’s a single hairline that curves up the wall, its line strong and smooth until it splinters into two smaller, jagged lines that split away from each other. Linshu has been staring at it, tracing each sharp edge, until it burns into the back of his closed eyelids.

A line that breaks into halves, each weaker than the original, each branching away from each other into new, unmarked territory. It’s hard to ignore the parallels to his situation, and Linshu doesn’t want to look at it anymore, but it’s somehow harder not to look at it.

Not looking at it would mean that Linshu would have time to entertain other more sinister thoughts, thoughts that he had been trying to block out since yesterday. Not looking at it would mean that Linshu would have the space to think about the easy banter between Jingyan and Xun Jianxiang, and the uncanny resemblance it bears to his own conversations with Jingyan. Not looking at it would mean that Linshu would be forced to think about the apologetic smile Jingyan flashed at him as he followed Xun Jianxiang out of the room, leaving him here.

It’s not as if Linshu expects Jingyan to spend every waking moment with him. Jingyan is his own person with his own life to live. They’ve always had circles of friends that don’t mix, and that’s okay. Jingyan has Zhanying and Qi Meng, and Linshu has Lin Chen, Fei Liu, Li Gang and Zhen Ping. They hang out with groups of friends that don’t include each other regularly, and that’s never been a problem before.

But it’s different now, because Linshu has never been intentionally excluded from Jingyan’s outings before. Even when Jingyan didn’t extend an invitation to Linshu in the past, there was an unspoken knowledge that he would be welcome to join him and his friends whenever he wanted.

It’s not the same anymore. There’s a place that Jingyan goes where Linshu can’t follow. There’s a part of Jingyan’s life where Linshu doesn’t exist, and could never exist, and Linshu doesn’t want to think about how Jingyan’s life would look like without him.

The room door opens and closes equally quietly. Jingyan is back.

Footsteps pad across the room stealthily and the bed sinks behind him. Jingyan slips under the blanket and presses his chest to Linshu’s back, sliding his arm around Linshu’s waist as he cuddles close, trying not to wake Linshu up. But Linshu is not asleep, and the scent of smoke wafts over.

This isn’t Jingyan’s scent. This isn’t Jingyan’s scent at all.

“You smell like smoke,” Linshu says, voice barely audible despite the pin drop silence of the room. A cloud drifts in front of the moon, shrouding the room in darkness.

Jingyan freezes, then whispers, “I’m sorry.”

The arm around Linshu’s waist retracts itself, and the bed rises again. What was once a tight squeeze is now vast and empty.

Linshu can hear the sound of fabric moving against fabric. Jingyan is pulling Zhanying’s blanket over him. He can feel the heat of Jingyan’s gaze on the back of his head, and he doesn’t have to turn back to know the slightly hurt look that Jingyan is wearing.

There’s a part of Linshu that desperately wants to throw himself onto Jingyan and bury his face in the crook of Jingyan’s neck, just like he used to do when they were young and Jingyan was upset. But they are not kids anymore, and the lingering smell of smoke in the air reminds him of that, so Linshu remains in Jingyan’s bed, hating himself for it the entire time.

The room is empty when Linshu wakes up.

There’s a note on the food thermos, identical to the one yesterday save for the reason why Jingyan is out. There is a group project meeting he has to attend. The porridge is bland this morning and nothing like the one he had. Linshu debates throwing the rest of it away, but the thought that this might be one of the few parts of Jingyan he still has makes him down the rest of it.

It’s cloudy today. Even with the curtains pulled wide open, the room is darker, gloomier. The breeze has an aggressive edge to it as it tugs on the trees outside, forcibly dragging away green leaves as it howls across the road. Linshu tries to focus on his work, but his thoughts run away from him.

Linshu doesn’t want to think about Jingyan’s friends, but he does. It’s not that Linshu has any doubt about the kind of people that Jingyan chooses to surround himself with– Jingyan is a good judge of character– but the sudden realisation that these are all people who have seen different sides of Jingyan that Linshu will never be privy to.

He thinks about Sishen and the way she stepped into Jingyan’s personal space, something done so rarely even among their childhood friends. He thinks about the way that Jingyan beamed at her as she lifted her chin to look up at him, the way that Linshu had done so many times before. The difference is that Sishen had managed to make Jingyan blush where Linshu would only make Jingyan scoff.

He thinks about Xun Jianxiang and the way that he stormed into the room and the way that Jingyan returned his fire. He thinks about the way that Jingyan’s clipped words melted into fondness and affection, just the way that their conversations go. The difference is that instead of being the person who left with Jingyan, he was the one being left behind.

So, no, Linshu knows it isn’t about Jingyan being bullied anymore. He knows it’s not even about Jingyan mixing with bad company anymore. Jingyan was right, his friends were nice people, so why was Linshu still so troubled?

The cursor blinks accusatorially at him. It’s been at the same spot since Linshu opened his laptop an hour ago. He should be working on his next essay, but nothing comes to mind. Linshu closes his laptop. It’s not, strictly speaking, a good weather for a walk, but Linshu thinks that it would be good to get some fresh air to clear his head. In any case, it can’t be worse than sitting in Jingyan’s room.

The weather outside is wilder than it looks from indoors. Dark clouds have gathered and the wind cuts through Linshu, and leaves cry in pain as they scrape along the sidewalk before being carried off into the air. Linshu shoves his hands into his pockets and grits his teeth, determined to have this damn walk if nothing else.

He doesn’t know where he’s going, and he doesn’t have any destination in mind either. He goes where his feet take him, and it isn’t until minutes later that he finds himself standing in front of an awfully familiar pond that he realises how far he’s gone. He’s back in the engineering buildings.

Isn’t that funny, Linshu thinks wryly, even when he doesn’t know where to go, his internal compass leads him back to Jingyan.

The pond is lacklustre now. The water doesn’t seem as clear as it was and Linshu can’t spot any of the koi fish that were so abundant just one day ago. It looks lifeless, a body of still water that fills a big hole in the ground, and on the surface of the water is Linshu’s miserable face looking back at him. He looks tired and unhappy, so different from how he looked yesterday– not that he was brimming with happiness, but at least he didn’t look so dejected either. Not even after meeting Sishen, and not even after meeting Xiao Lu.

Because you took him for granted, didn’t you? Linshu thinks bitterly, He was always yours, and you took him for granted. And now he’s not, and–

Jingyan is there.

On the other side of the reflection, Jingyan’s image lies as still as Linshu’s. Linshu lifts his gaze until he sees Jingyan standing across the lake with Xun Jianxiang, under the shade of a large, looming tree. Leaves flutter between them as the wind whistles through the thick branches. Jingyan is holding a cigarette in one hand, engaged in conversation with Xun Jianxiang.

Oh, well. It’s not like Linshu doesn’t already know that they smoke together. It’s nothing to get upset about all over again. Jingyan smokes, and Linshu doesn’t. Jingyan is over there, and Linshu is here.

But the phantom ache in his chest returns, because something else occurs to Linshu: how in his element Jingyan is. Jingyan’s shoulders aren’t tense the way they should be, Jingyan’s expression isn’t pinched the way Linshu expects it to be, the smoke in Jingyan’s hand looks natural the way Linshu wished it wasn’t.

Jingyan is comfortable here like this, Linshu realises, and all of a sudden the ache in his chest starts to numb. Jingyan was never bullied, Jingyan was never made to do anything against his will. Everything was a conscious decision by Jingyan.

And then, from across the pond, Linshu sees Jingyan throw his head back in laughter at something Xun Jianxiang says and lightly throws a punch at Xun Jianxiang’s arm. Jingyan’s deep her-her-her drifts over to Linshu like he’s underwater, sounding distorted and alien. And then Xun Jianxiang hooks his arm around Jingyan’s shoulder, and Linshu’s mind goes silent except for a single thought that shatters in the absence of everything else.

That should be him.

It should be Linshu next to Jingyan, it should be Linshu hooking his arm around Jingyan, it should be Linshu making Jingyan laugh like that. It should be Linshu. But Jingyan is over there, and Linshu is here, and the lake between them suddenly feels like a world that Linshu cannot cross.

All this time, Linshu believed that Jingyan returned his feelings. He believed that they would have time to sort it out together because there was never anyone who shared the kind of intimacy that they had, and Linshu never had any reason to believe that there would be anyone who could even come close to having what they had. The biggest space in Jingyan’s heart was occupied by Linshu, and he had no intention of giving it up.

But maybe it didn’t matter what Linshu wanted. Maybe the space in his heart diminished with the number of people Jingyan allowed into his heart– or maybe this was all his wishful thinking. Maybe the space Linshu had in Jingyan’s heart was never that big at all, and it was all a carefully constructed lie he led himself to believe. Jingyan has other people now, people who look after him, people who make him laugh and smile, people who care for him.

Does Jingyan even need him anymore?

Linshu’s blood turns into ice, because Jingyan doesn’t need him anymore. Jingyan doesn’t need him anymore, and he’s here. Jingyan doesn’t need him anymore, and he flew halfway across the world just to learn that–

Jingyan doesn’t need him anymore, but Linshu can’t live without Jingyan.

And that’s the real problem, isn’t it? Linshu can dress it up all he wants, but he can’t deny that the real reason he came all the way back was because he needed Jingyan. He had been looking for any reason to come back, and had seen things where they were not. He had convinced himself that Jingyan, the very definition of stubborn, could be bullied and coerced by people. He had always known, of course, somewhere deep inside his heart that no one could make Xiao Jingyan do something he didn’t want to, but Linshu had convinced himself that Jingyan needed him when it was always the other way round.

What else is Linshu lying to himself about? Did Jingyan even like him at all, or is that just another lie of his that he believed?

What is he doing here? He came here without telling anyone, giving Jingyan only the barest heads up before imposing on everyone. He chased Zhanying out of his room, made Meng Zhi drive him here on short notice and made Jingyan accommodate his last minute plans. He wasn’t even invited here– he just showed up and everyone had to welcome him, even if he wasn’t.

So what is he still doing here?

The thought echoes in Linshu’s head throughout the walk back to Jingyan’s room. He throws his belongings into his luggage mindlessly, and when he notices his surroundings again, he’s waiting for his taxi at the entrance of the university. The phone is buzzing in his hand– and has been buzzing for the last minute– and when Linshu flips it over, Jingyan’s name is bold and unyielding on the screen. Linshu stares at it long enough for the call to end and a new one to start, Jingyan’s name returning impatiently. Linshu’s finger hovers over the red circle, but he doesn’t get a chance to tap the screen because someone barrels into him from the side, nearly throwing them onto the ground. Linshu stumbles backwards a few steps, dragging his luggage with him until they stop. He opens his mouth, ready to berate the idiot who ran into him–

It’s Jingyan.

“Why didn’t you answer my calls?!” Jingyan demands, panting heavily. He grips onto Linshu’s shoulder with a hand, sinking his nails into Linshu’s muscles. “Why did you– your luggage.. Are you– are you going somewhere?”

Linshu averts his eyes. Jingyan’s face falls.

“Where are you..” Jingyan trails off, his gaze bounces back and forth between Linshu and the luggage next to him, and his expression cracks. “Already?” Jingyan asks. Desperation leaks out of his voice. “You’re going back already?”

When Linshu keeps silent, a few emotions flash across Jingyan’s face. Years of being friends makes it easy for Linshu to identify them: sadness, regret, hurt, and anger.

“Were you–” Jingyan pauses, breathing hard. He studies Linshu, as if he can’t believe what he’s about to say, but Linshu doesn’t meet Jingyan’s gaze and it’s enough of a confirmation for Jingyan. When Jingyan speaks again, his voice trembles with suppressed rage. “Were you even going to say goodbye to me?”

Linshu almost flinches, but he steels himself and keeps his eyes on the ground. It’s enough to hear betrayal underlying Jingyan’s angry words, he doesn’t need to see it too. He wants to stay quiet and let Jingyan vent out his anger until his taxi arrives, but the little quiver in Jingyan’s voice tells him that Jingyan won’t take silence for an answer. Jingyan won’t let him leave until Linshu makes him, so Linshu chooses the most simple, most evasive answer he can give.

“You were busy.”

“Are you going to lie to me now?” Jingyan says hotly, “Or did you really think that I wouldn’t send you off? Because I would have! I would have made time to send you off if you’d just tell me that–”

Jingyan stops abruptly, the way Linshu knows he always does when he hits a sore spot. He lowers his eyes and clenches his fists at his side. There’s fire in his eyes when he raises them again, and Linshu finds that he can’t look away this time.

“Why don’t you ever tell me anything anymore?” Jingyan says. His voice is steady and firm, but Linshu can tell that it’s taking all of Jingyan’s self-control to keep it level. “You’ve been keeping to yourself the last two days when clearly you have things to say. Why won’t you talk to me anymore? I thought we told each other everything. Since when did you start holding back from me?”

“When did you?” Linshu snaps. Jingyan’s self-righteous indignation falters in the face of Linshu’s sudden fury. “Why else do you think I’m here, Jingyan? Did you think I came all the way here during my crunch week for fun?”

“Are you blaming me for that? That was your choice!” Jingyan says, “I told you that nothing was wrong, and you still–”

“What was I supposed to do?” Linshu cries, almost throwing his hands up in exasperation. “You were smoking, Jingyan. I saw you. Three years ago when Jinghuan started smoking and offered you a stick, you told him that you had no intention of ever smoking. What was I supposed to think when I opened the call and saw you with a smoke in your mouth?”

“You could have believed me! Have I ever lied to you before?”

“.. But you’re not always forthcoming, are you?” Linshu asks in a low voice. This gives Jingyan pause.

“Xiaoshu–”

“I was there when your father asked who broke his cup. You didn’t tell him it was me.”

“I was keeping you out of trouble! Was I supposed to throw you under the bus? Did you think I would?”

“And what makes this different from now?” Linshu says sharply. “How do I know you’re not saying things just to protect your friends?”

“Do you think I only do things for other people?” Jingyan says through gritted teeth. “Do you think I live my life for other people’s sake? Is that what you think of me?”

“You know that’s not what I’m talking about! Are you being stupid on purpose? Because–”

“Then tell me what you’re talking about since I’m too stupid to understand!” Jingyan howls. The veins along his neck protrude as his face flushes red with anger. “Is it that I’m too stupid to have thoughts of my own? That I’m too stupid to make decisions on my own? Is that what you think of me? Or is it the fact that I can do things without you that bothers you? Did you expect me to put my life on pause while you’re gone?!”

“You were the one who told me to go.” Linshu jabs a finger at Jingyan, seething. “Did you forget that? Like you forgot everything else? Like you forgot about me?”

Jingyan’s jaw falls open and barks out an incredulous laugh. “Are you– are you making this about yourself again?” Jingyan scoffs. “The world doesn’t revolve around you, Lin Shu! My life doesn’t stop just because you’re not here. I am my own person! I don’t need anybody’s permission to live my life the way I want to. Not my father, not Jingyu-ge, not even my mother and definitely not you, Lin Shu!”

“I know!” Linshu bellows. Shock flickers in Jingyan’s eyes. “I fucking know that you don’t need me, okay?! I know! You’re a big boy that can do everything by yourself now. Why would you ever need someone like me?” Linshu sneers. “You can hold your own alcohol, and you can clearly hold your own cigarettes too. You can do everything as long as you’re doing it behind your mother’s back! But go on and tell me that I’m the one keeping things from you, the person has to beg me to keep his secrets for him! Go on and tell me that you don’t need me anymore!”

Linshu knows that he’s crossed the line as soon as the words are out, because Jingyan’s face shutters immediately. A curtain falls over Jingyan’s face and sweeps everything under it, leaving an eerie calm in its wake. Jingyan is quiet for a long moment, his hands rapidly clenching and unclenching by his side, but his face remains a blank canvas that gives nothing away.

“You’re right,” Jingyan says at last. His voice is emotionless and disinterested, with none of the tightness that Linshu would have expected, and it’s this that hurts just as much as the look of utter indifference in Jingyan’s eye as he says, “Maybe I don’t need someone like you in my life anymore.”

A taxi pulls up at the side of the road, but Linshu can’t hear anything. He can’t hear the taxi’s engine roar louder as it approaches him, can’t hear the wind chiding him for coming here in the first place, can’t hear the sound of heartbeat over the deafening silence that thunders in his head.

“Who are you?” Linshu says quietly, holding Jingyan’s gaze with all the energy he has left. “I don’t know who you are, because the Jingyan I know isn’t the person standing in front of me. And the Jingyan that I know– my best friend in the whole universe, Xiao Jingyan– would never do the things that you’re doing.”

Linshu’s eyes prick with tears, but he’s not going to give Jingyan the satisfaction of seeing him cry– that’s reserved for the closest, most special people in his life to see, and he’s not sure if Jingyan is one of them anymore.

“And my Jingyan..” Linshu says with a wavering voice, inhaling deeply as he makes a split-second decision to finish his sentence, “the Jingyan that I love, he would never tell me that he doesn’t need me anymore.”

It’s done. There’s nothing else to lose. Everything that Linshu could have lost is lost, whatever damage could have been done is now done. There is no coming back from this. Never. Linshu doesn’t need to see the look on Jingyan’s face anymore. This isn’t his best friend, it isn’t even his friend. It’s just some guy in the skin of the person who once meant the world to Linshu, that’s all.

Linshu jumps into the taxi and pulls his luggage in with him right after, slamming the door so hard that the taxi wobbles in its wake. The taxi uncle looks a bit peeved by it, but one glance at Linshu and he decides against saying anything, choosing to speed away in silence.

Linshu doesn’t turn back, but from the side-view mirror he can see Jingyan standing at the same spot, watching him until he disappeared from sight. It’s only when Jingyan is no longer in view that something wet falls onto Linshu’s hand. He looks down.

There’s a droplet of water on his hand. Then another. And another.

With trembling fingers, Linshu touches his cheeks gently, surprised to find tears rolling down his face. It’s as if learning that he’s crying shreds up the last of his emotional barriers, and everything comes crumbling down, pouring out of him like a collapsing dam. Linshu finds himself folding over, clutching onto his chest where it hurts the most because Jingyan doesn’t want him in his life anymore, and Linshu doesn’t know what to do with himself anymore.

All his life, Linshu has only ever known a life with Jingyan in it. Jingyan was there from before he could remember anything, and Jingyan has been there ever since. They’ve been together for their entire life, and Linshu never imagined that there would come a day where they would willingly go their separate ways.

What was Linshu supposed to do now, when Jingyan had been such a big, integral part of his life? Was he supposed to carve out everything that had Jingyan from his life? Was he supposed to scrub off all traces of Jingyan and pretend that his heart hadn’t disappeared along with it? That the best part of himself was no longer there?

Linshu’s soft sobs turn into an ugly bawl, and the taxi driver takes glimpses of Linshu through the rearview mirror with thinly veiled concern, although Linshu doesn’t know who the concern is directed towards. At one point, it gets too embarrassing and Linshu glares at the driver through the mess of tears and snot on his face.

“What?!” Linshu growls.

The driver keeps his eyes on the road for the rest of the journey, and if the taxi goes over the speed limit, no one mentions it.

Linshu might have cried the entire journey home if he wasn’t passed out for most of it. Being worried about Jingyan is a lot easier than being angry at Jingyan, which is exponentially easier than being sad because of Jingyan. Linshu has had a lot of experience with the first two, but it’s the first time in a long while that he’s been sad because of Jingyan, and it’s taking a lot of energy to keep the bad, self-pitying thoughts out, so Linshu opts to sleep them away.

It’s not that difficult, anyway, what with the exhaustion of travel and the stress of his academic work taking a toll on him. Sleep claims him easily, and by the time that Linshu is back in school, he is able to box in all his miserable, depressing Jingyan-related thoughts and focus on his work with a cold, ruthless efficiency.

He finishes the semester without remembering much of anything, but the few moments that Linshu remembers he wishes he didn’t. It feels like he’s been hollowed. Everything that once made him Linshu had been scooped up and dumped at the gates of Jingyan’s university. It isn’t pain that he feels anymore, just the gaping hole where he once felt so much.

It’s pathetic how affected he is by their falling out. People fall out all the time. They grow up and apart and change. No one stays the same forever. But for some reason, Linshu never imagined that it would happen to them. Things like this always happen to other people, it’s just the way the world works. There was a time when Linshu couldn’t imagine a life without Jingyan in it, but he doesn’t have to try anymore.

Not that it matters, anyway, because Jingyan is over there and Linshu is here, and the pond between them is now oceans and oceans of water. Avoiding Jingyan would be infinitely harder if he actually had to see him everyday, but Linshu doesn’t see him at all as it is. His thoughts still drift away, and his fingers still hover over Jingyan’s contact. He still opens up his social media applications, instinctively scrolling for Jingyan’s account before he realises what he’s doing and stops himself. Jingyan doesn’t need him anymore, Jingyan doesn’t want him anymore.

Part of him rallies against accepting it. Linshu has always been a fighter, so where was this defeatist attitude coming from? But the other more logical, more realistic part of Linshu knows that there is no smoke without a fire. He had seen it for himself. Jingyan has other friends now, friends who can do everything that Linshu can and more. Friends whose compliments Jingyan will accept, friends who Jingyan will go out exclusively with, friends who Jingyan wants in his life.

It never stops hurting, but Linshu is nothing if not good with compartmentalising, and compartmentalise he does. By the time that the semester comes to an end and he’s sitting in the middle of the mess in his room, Linshu realises that he doesn’t want to go back home. He comes up with some cock-and-bull story about last minute school commitments to his mother, who frowns in admonishment but doesn’t comment on it. His plane ticket home is graciously cancelled, and although it’s what he asked for in the first place, Linshu suddenly feels more alone than ever– more lonely than ever. Jingyan is over there, and Linshu is over here, thousands of kilometres away.

It shouldn’t make sense– and it doesn’t– but the world goes on.

It is surprisingly easy to call his mother and tell her that he won’t be coming home until the last two weeks of his break.

Linshu comes up with some lame excuse that he had accepted a last minute invitation from a friend to go on a road trip. To Linshu’s credit, it isn’t a complete lie. Such an invitation did exist, but it was never accepted. It doesn’t convince his mother, and Linshu isn’t sure that he was ever trying to. They both know where he really wants to be.

But his mother, bless her heart, doesn’t point that out. She doesn’t even look surprised. Instead, she looks only slightly upset to hear it.

“Jingyan will be disappointed to hear it,” she says softly, “He had been looking forward to your return all year.”

Not anymore, Linshu thinks in spite of himself.

The next few days speed by. Linshu floats, unmoored. The man in the mirror looks back at him with red-rimmed eyes every morning, but Linshu doesn’t understand why. He should stop crying, but he doesn’t know why he can’t.

He can’t keep living like this.

Jingyan may have been the most important person in his life, but Linshu can’t keep grieving a friendship while living like a ghost. Jingyan has moved on, and he should too. There was no need to keep punishing himself for a friendship they were bound to grow out of eventually, and especially not when it’s clear now that Jingyan no longer wants him in his life.

That’s fine. People change and relationships fade, even if Linshu never imagined that this would be one of them. Time heals all wounds, and Linshu would let it. He would stop holding onto something that was already dead. Besides, he has the entire break to himself. He can let go of Jingyan slowly, enough to pretend that he’s fine when he goes back home for the last two weeks. And who knows? Maybe one day Linshu would be able to meet Jingyan again without any of this emotional baggage, and they could be friends again.

It’s the last thought that drives Linshu out of bed for the first time in days. He begins packing his belongings, separating those he plans on shipping home and those he wants to leave here.

The process itself doesn’t take very long, but Linshu lingers on the gifts and snacks he bought with Jingyan in mind. The hairband that Linshu bought for Jingyan’s floppy fringe that he didn’t have anymore, the orange-flavoured dark chocolate that Jingyan always insists is too expensive to buy for himself, a new pair of track shoes to replace the spoiled ones that Jingyan still wears. There’s a second where Linshu wonders if it would be best for everyone if he just threw them away, but in the end he packs them in a separate box with Jingyan’s home address written on it and ships them all back.

Now that that’s done, Linshu can pack the rest of his belongings and get going on his vacation. He doesn’t know exactly where he’s going to go yet, but as Linshu makes his way up the stairs to his room, he runs through a list of places that his friends recommended to him a week ago–

There’s someone sitting outside his door. Linshu doesn’t need to go any closer to know who it is– he’d know that silhouette anywhere.

Jingyan is leaning against his door, hugging his knees to his chest and burying his face in the space between. He’s wearing Linshu’s hoodie with the hood pulled up, obscuring his face from the world. There’s a duffel bag at his feet that sinks to the floor from the middle, evidence of how empty it is, evidence of how hastily packed it was.

There are two choices that Linshu can make now: he can either choose to go, or he can stay.

In another world, Linshu would have left. In that world, Linshu would have gone to his friend’s room across campus and bunked with him until his phone stopped lighting up with Jingyan’s name on it. In that world, Linshu would have been waiting for his mother’s phone call, asking where he had gone, and if he had run into Jingyan by any chance. In that world, Linshu would have told his mother that he never saw Jingyan.

In this world, however, Linshu chooses to stay.

His feet feel like lead, and each step is heavier than the previous. His hands grow clammy and his heart rate shoots up like he’s running the final sprint in a race for first place. His throat starts to grow tight, and by the time that Linshu is standing in front of Jingyan, it feels like someone’s holding his neck in their grip.

Linshu clears his throat, both to dispel the suffocating feeling around his throat and to get Jingyan’s attention.

Jingyan’s head snaps up, and Linshu knows that he isn’t the only forlorn one the past few days. Jingyan’s eyes are red, and his eyelids are puffy the way they always get after he cries. There are dark circles under Jingyan’s eyes that hadn’t been there when Linshu last saw him, and Jingyan’s normally bright eyes are dull and exhausted. Under other circumstances, Linshu would have cracked a joke about Jingyan’s appearance before coddling him for the rest of the day, but instead they stare at each other for a long time, unsure of what to say.

Finally, it’s Jingyan who breaks the silence. He stands up hurriedly and inhales a shaky breath.

“Are you avoiding me?!” Jingyan demands. His voice is hoarse and breaks near the end of the question.

Linshu doesn’t flinch, which he thinks is an accomplishment in itself. “How can I be avoiding you when I’m standing right in front of you?”

“You didn’t go home,” Jingyan says, then sniffles while holding eye contact, trying not to look like he’s been crying for days.

A part of Linshu thinks it’s adorable, but then he remembers that this is not the time. His gaze drifts away as he shuffles his feet. “I’ve got plans. I’m going on a–”

“I know you’re not going on that road trip,” Jingyan says heatedly, “You told me that you declined that invite last month.”

“Maybe I changed my mind,” Linshu says petulantly.

Jingyan gauges Linshu’s reaction for a long moment. He studies Linshu’s eyes, which Linshu tries to hide by averting his gaze, letting it bounce everywhere else but on Jingyan’s face. It isn’t as if Linshu is deluded enough to think that this would do anything to make Jingyan believe him, but for some reason unknown to him, it feels like his pride is on the line. He should at least make a show of resisting, instead of letting Jingyan have an easy win. It’s a dumb thought, but Linshu doesn’t feel like being reasonable right now.

And then, after a long time, Jingyan fidgets with his hands as he asks softly, “Did you?” like he isn’t sure if Linshu is lying or telling the truth.

The question devastates Linshu, because this is Jingyan, the only person in the whole universe who should be able to read Linshu inside out. No matter what they’ve been through, no matter what Linshu said or never said, Jingyan was always able to understand him. Jingyan was always able to sniff out the bullshit and to pull the truth from Linshu. But now that Jingyan is unsure of himself, Linshu feels like he’s been sucker punched into a different galaxy.

“Xiao Jingyan!” Linshu says sharply, narrowing his eyes. “What is wrong with you? Since when have you ever needed to ask?!”

“I didn’t want to presume,” Jingyan cries helplessly, “I didn’t– I don’t know.” Jingyan wipes his eyes with the sleeves of his hoodie, fixing his stare on a spot on the floor while sniffling. “I don’t know if maybe.. maybe you changed your mind,” he says quietly, and suddenly Linshu isn’t sure if they are still talking about the road trip anymore.

It’s quiet for a long moment.

“Jingyan–”

“I didn’t,” Jingyan says firmly. Linshu’s mouth snaps shut, drawing his brows together. “I’ve never changed my mind– not about you.”

There’s fire in Jingyan’s eyes, but it doesn’t consume. It’s a flame that flickers in the wind, standing guard until the break of dawn. Jingyan’s eyes glisten as he stares straight at Linshu, unwavering and vulnerable. Linshu can see the muscles of Jingyan’s tensing and relaxing, the little worry line between Jingyan’s brows that deepens with every passing second.

“I like you, Xiaoshu.”

In another world, Linshu would have chosen to stay. In that world, Linshu would have been waking up from an afternoon nap with the heat of the summer sun licking his toes. In that world, Jingyan would have already been awake, silently waiting for Linshu to wake up. And in that world, Jingyan would have wiped away the little line of drool from the corner of Linshu’s mouth with the corners of his lips turned up. There would have been a short pause, both of them soaking in the moment, before Jingyan whispered I like you, Xiaoshu into Linshu’s ear.

This world isn’t that world, but this is nice too.

Linshu’s eyes fill up with tears all over again. It’s everything he’s ever dared to dream of. He has imagined this scenario in a million different ways, putting together scripts after scripts of what he would say. But words escape him now. He’s drowning in his own emotions, and he doesn’t mind.

“What took you so long?” Linshu asks, voice breaking.

He throws his arms around Jingyan and pulls him into his embrace. With their chests touching, Linshu can feel Jingyan’s hummingbird heartbeat against his own, and when Jingyan’s hand slithers up his nape, he’s sure that Jingyan can feel the goosebumps it raises on his arms.

Eventually, Jingyan pulls away and Linshu doesn’t protest, not when Jingyan lifts his hands to cup his cheeks and wipe away the little tears gathered on the corners of his eyes.

“Would you believe me if I told you that I was going to tell you?” Jingyan asks with a melancholic smile. “I was just waiting for you to come home.”

Linshu’s mouth goes dry. Images of Jingyan’s disappointment flashes through his mind again, the way that the light in his eyes went out the moment that he found out Linshu wouldn’t be coming back for the winter break. Had he been planning something then?

Linshu opens his mouth, feeling like the hinges of his jaw had rusted in the few seconds it took him to collect his thoughts.

“When did you..” Linshu swallows, “When did you realise that you liked me?”

“Honestly? A few days after you left,” Jingyan chuckles wetly. “I always thought that I was the one taking care of you, making sure that you weren’t going to eat anything with hazelnuts by accident or keeping you out of trouble. But then I forgot to set my own alarm, because no one was there to jump on me in the mornings anymore.”

Jingyan’s smile widens, and Linshu’s heart stutters.

“I forgot to eat some meals because there wasn’t anyone to pester me on what to eat next, I couldn’t get out of drinks with friends because there wasn’t anyone to pretend I had plans with anymore.”

“We weren’t pretending, we did actually have plans,” Linshu says.

“Plans we made after the fact?” Jingyan raises a brow.

Linshu huffs. “Weren’t you supposed to be telling me about how you slowly realised that you were in love with me?”

“Slowly? It wasn’t slow at all. It was a very fast and simple realisation.” Jingyan plants their foreheads together, still grazing Linshu’s cheeks with his thumbs. “I think some part of me always knew, but it’s something I’ve felt my entire life, I just never recognised it as what it is.”

Jingyan closes his eyes and takes a quiet breath, and Linshu wonders if it’s the one stolen from him.

“And if you haven’t changed your mind,” Jingyan whispers, “I want to continue liking you for the rest of my life.”

In another world, Linshu will stare at Jingyan for a long time. In that world, sunlight spills across their faces, golden and warm, and Jingyan’s honey-coloured eyes will search his for an answer earnestly. In that world, Linshu will lean forward and press their lips together for a fleeting moment. It’s a world Linshu has dreamt of for a long time, and one he no longer cares about.

“Don’t be obtuse,” Linshu says, nodding with a choked laugh that bubbles up from the bottom of his heart. “I’ve never changed my mind about you. Ever.”

In another world, Jingyan will burst into a smile whose brilliance rivals that of the sun, and Linshu will plant another kiss against Jingyan’s upper lip. In this world, however, Linshu takes Jingyan’s face into his hands and rubs the tip of their noses together, letting his eyelids flutter shut with a contented sigh.

“I like you, Jingyan. I like you so much.”

This world is not that world– it’s so much better.