Chapter Text
Gao Zhi Yao consumed an excessive amount of alcohol—enough to categorize him as a drunken fool. He was a lightweight; one drink and he was down. Jiang Yi Jie watched him as the alcohol washed over him, beating him down into a clumsy, uncontrollable version of himself—one to say whatever came to mind without any warranty, without any safeguards of his own conscious thoughts.
As he sat there, seated across from him, the others spoke amongst themselves: unbothered and aware of their own actions—minus Gao Zhi Yao, of course. As the sun went down and the streetlights flickered on, they hurried off, leaving Jiang Yi Jie as the only caretaker.
He scoffed, drawing his eyes toward Gao Zhi Yao, face planted on the table, its rustic taste being absorbed by his reddened lips.
“What am I to do with you, huh?” he asked. Gao Zhi Yao only laughed at the question, focusing his attention more on the last glass that lay before him.
He slurred his words: “I don’t know.”
It came like a shrug. He slurped down another drink as he raised his arm sloppily. Jiang Yi Jie stopped him there—pulling his arm down and placing it on the table.
“No more,” he said.
“Why?” Gao Zhi Yao responded miserably, opening his mouth like a duck asking its mother.
“Can’t you see? You’re already too drunk.”
“One more won’t hurt.”
He sternly said no, picking at Gao Zhi Yao’s arms and pulling them straight up as he stood from the chair, his body resting next to Gao Zhi Yao, who knit at his taken arms, squealing, “Let them go!”
“Get up.”
Gao Zhi Yao followed without hesitation or complaint. He picked himself up, his balance distorted by the alcohol, causing him to glide side to side, his legs seeing no sense of direction or urgency. His movements were castrated, and only Jiang Yi Jie was complaining inside his head—his irritation intensifying and his peace interrupted. He passed by the opened doors, holding onto Gao Zhi Yao like a giant to a child, his fingernails inching through the cloth of his clothing, his saliva slowly mixing with the dryness of his shirt. He sighed heavily and bit his lip, his irritation observable on his face: brows furrowed, eyes jaded, nose scrunched up—a usual appearance for him, but this time for a very different situation.
“Where do you live?” he asked as they stopped outside the establishment, the Taiwanese freshness blowing past them. He looked over at him, his eyes scanning the blatant pinkness of Gao Zhi Yao’s face, soon turning the color of a tomato.
The cold brushed over him. He shivered as if his armpits weren’t full of sweat and as if he, himself, didn’t smell the same. Jiang Yi Jie could feel the sweat crossing over to him; the tiny amount made him gag uncontrollably.
He asked again: “Where do you live?”
Gao Zhi Yao gave no response, his eyelids slowly closing in. Jiang Yi Jie shook him once, then twice, to no avail. What is with him? I can’t take him back to my place. But then he realized there was no other option. He had no idea where Gao Zhi Yao lived or if his roommates even wanted him there. Knowing this, he made a mental note to text them later.
And so, he abandoned his original plan of getting back to his own house and hopefully the couch he would lay on. He stepped forward, holding tightly onto the man whose weight pressed against him. He felt strained, especially in his arms. His muscles tensed at the suddenness of another body over them. They acted like they hadn’t been trained in weeks, even though they had been only a few hours earlier at the gym.
They made their way slowly, going through numerous streets and shoes that weirdly came off as if they hadn’t been tied. By the time he made it home, his breath tugged at his lungs, puffing up and down for any oxygen.
Eventually, he opened the door, the apartment filled with nothing but required necessities. He dropped Gao Zhi Yao over the arms of the couch, his body flying forward. Gao Zhi Yao yelped as the arms jabbed into his back, sending pain through his upper half.
“Hey!”
“Sorry,” Jiang Yi Jie murmured. He moved to his room, fixing himself up, throwing his jacket and shirt on the ground, changing into pajamas. When he returned to the living room, Gao Zhi Yao had sat up, his collar bothering him.
He retreated back to his room, retrieving another shirt—black and wrinkled. When he gathered it in his hands, he bellowed: “Wear my shirt.”
“Your shirt?”
He nodded. Gao Zhi Yao for some reason confused, nodded back. Jiang Yi Jie threw him the shirt. He struggled to take his own off and put the new one on. Jiang Yi Jie made sure to help him—feeling like he should, rather than wanting to. But he couldn’t help noticing Gao Zhi Yao’s abs. They creased evenly and threaded through his skin; he was well-defined. Jiang Yi Jie blushed and smiled oddly, turning his head up, trying to pretend like he hadn’t rigidly scanned them, and complimented them in his head. Gao Zhi Yao got up, leaving his shirt scrunched up on the couch.
“Where are you going?” Jiang Yi Jie asked. Gao Zhi Yao brushed by him, bracing himself on the walls as he strangely made himself at home—on Jiang Yi Jie’s bed. Jiang Yi Jie gave him a weird look. Gao Zhi Yao fell onto the bed, spreading his whole scent over the white sheets, leaving another layer of cologne.
“Get up!” Jiang Yi Jie yelled, tugging at him. Gao Zhi Yao only moaned at his actions, feeling good where he was at. He twisted and pushed, creating the perfect spot for a sleep. Jiang Yi Jie accepted defeat, sitting down at the edge, his legs resting against the bed’s wooden frame. He stayed there, his feet being grazed by the coldness of the floor, his eyes beginning to be overcome by the exhaustion that rapidly dawned on him.
By the end, exhaustion seemed too easy. He didn’t want to sleep on the couch; he was uncomfortable and his back was too poor to sustain that for the whole night. Feeling like the pros outweighed any possible cons of sleeping next to another man, he squished himself by Gao Zhi Yao’s side, opening a gap as he drew his legs toward his face, curling inward like an infant.
Though as he tried closing his eyes, Gao Zhi Yao’s warmth enveloped him. His body was so hot—he was so hot. But he also felt cold. He inched closer to Jiang Yi Jie’s position, resting his arms over him. He grabbed the blankets, covering his own legs and eventually Jiang Yi Jie’s. Jiang Yi Jie gulped at the sudden development, muttering random sounds as the two lay in bed like a married couple. Gao Zhi Yao’s arms were stretched over him, pulling at his stomach. His lips remained on Jiang Yi Jie’s neck, soft breaths lurking next to his ears.
“Gao Zhi Yao.”
He groaned in exhaustion, pulling himself forward.
“What are you doing?”
“Sorry, Senior. I’m cold.”
Jiang Yi Jie could only mutter a yes, feeling comfortable too. Nothing can happen. But as the next hour came, Gao Zhi Yao turned to his side, their faces close. His lips lingered above Jiang Yi Jie’s—sensitive and pale. A weird atmosphere formed between them, like they were the only two humans in the world—and as if one of them wasn’t extremely drunk.
Jiang Yi Jie tried to tuck himself away, pushing himself backward ever so slightly. He tried to do it gently, but Gao Zhi Yao only worsened the proximity, whining at every push.
“Gao Zhi Yao. You’re too close,” he whispered, his words softened. His eyes were drawn to Gao Zhi Yao’s. The smell of sweat didn’t matter anymore; the closeness made him forget.
Gao Zhi Yao opened his eyes, shooting him a gentle grin. “You like it.”
He sneered. “You’re drunk.”
He forced those words away from his drunken thoughts. “You like it.”
“Stop. You’re drunk.”
“So what if I am, hmm?” he responded lazily. “You like this. You like us being so close.”
“You’re my junior. I was just trying to help you. I can’t do this. You’re drunk, stop it!”
“If I kiss you, what will you say?”
“I—” he hesitated, thinking of what to say before deciding he needed to create distance. “I’ll beat you.”
“Y’know, ever since you became my senior—ever since you made me your informant—I felt special. Like I mean something to you.”
“You’re drunk. Why does it matter?”
“Because… I’ve felt close to you since the beginning. We’ve spoken. I’ve interested you.”
“Stop. Go to sleep. We can talk in the morning.”
“I want to talk now.”
“We can’t talk if you’re not going to like what you say in the morning.”
“That’s it. I won’t like what I’m going to say because… I’ve never revealed it before. To anyone. But I want to now.”
He was going to say something awful, dramatic, stupid. What would he say? I hate you. Yes—that’s what Jiang Yi Jie thought. Forgetting everything before that, that seemed like the only possibility, the only thing.
But as he opened his lips and his tongue took over, he could only say four words: “I like you, Senior.”
What?
Jiang Yi Jie looked at him in horror. Why now?
“You’re drunk.”
“Stop saying that!” He sat up, pushing himself against the drooping pillow. “Why does it matter?”
Jiang Yi Jie looked at him in awe, fidgeting under the blanket, his hands filling with sweat—the anxiety touching him almost immediately. Nothing can happen. Nothing can ever happen.
“If what you say is true… why would you tell me now? Why not wait until you’re fully sober?”
Gao Zhi Yao’s voice deepened in contrast, as if a rage was filling him. “Because I would never say it! Don’t you understand?” He gazed down, his feet feeling a coldness entrap him: rejection.
“I know how you would react.”
“Like this?”
He nodded carelessly. “Yes.”
“Go to bed,” he said, turning to the side and dragging more of the blanket over him, its delicacy ridding him of any continuous thoughts.
But to Gao Zhi Yao’s drunken mind, those three words weren’t enough; he needed more—desired more. Like a childish act, he couldn’t stop himself from grabbing Jiang Yi Jie and pulling him straight toward his mouth—his lips. Without a second thought, without any true consciousness, confidently as he could, he planted a kiss on Jiang Yi Jie’s lips and quickly withdrew them. Jiang Yi Jie’s face flushed; his lips were yearning for more, but he couldn’t—he shouldn’t.
Jiang Yi Jie jerked back. He dragged his hand over his lips, his fingertips touching the lingering feeling, the lingering taste.
“That’s what I mean by ‘I like you,’ Senior. That’s what I mean. You understand?”
Now what could Jiang Yi Jie do?
What can I do? What the hell was that?
He’s drunk. Nothing more.
Nothing more, he told himself.
But why couldn’t it be more?
“You said you’d beat me. Is that true?”
Jiang Yi Jie just looked at him, shaken. He turned back to the side and stayed there, unbothered by any of Gao Zhi Yao’s movements. They returned to their original plan: to sleep.
But Jiang Yi Jie couldn’t sleep—and it killed him.
Gao Zhi Yao would not remember. And Jiang Yi Jie would remember. But this could never happen again. Never.
He begged himself never to bring it up, no matter what—to no one else or to himself. It needed to stay in a place far from his thoughts, far from his heart. Because this was nothing, after all. And it killed him to realize it.