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It was certainly not an infrequent occurrence for Cheng Xiaoshi to disappear in between, prior, or after classes. Lu Guang had never paid it much mind; they didn’t share every class together, and they had other club activities and extracurricular activities separate from one another. It was none of his business, really, what Cheng Xiaoshi did that was not academically-related.

So it was justifiable, Lu Guang reasoned with himself, that he was searching for Cheng Xiaoshi because he had a presentation for his next class and Cheng Xiaoshi promised he’d lend Lu Guang his speakers. Not that there was anything wrong with searching for Cheng Xiaoshi just because he wanted to. They were friends, after all. Cheng Xiaoshi even repeatedly proclaimed they were best friends. But Qiao Ling once said they spent too much time together, which wasn’t true, as far as Lu Guang was concerned, and perhaps he decided to emphasize how true it was by pointedly not following Cheng Xiaoshi around whenever their classes wrapped up, and perhaps he was still acting on this perceived slight without admitting it to himself.

At last, Lu Guang found Cheng Xiaoshi behind the campus library, which was surprising but not the most strange, when sometimes Cheng Xiaoshi did voluntarily go to the library when he needed a nice place to nap, even if Qiao Ling told him that wasn't what the library was for. But what was both surprising and strange was that there was a girl with him as well, rosy-cheeked and shoulders hunched over with expectation in a way that Lu Guang realized all too well from reading countless stories, and Lu Guang realized a beat too late, as he made his appearance known as he rounded the corner, that he was interrupting something. But they had already seen him.

“—but the thing is,” Cheng Xiaoshi grabbed Lu Guang by the shoulder and dragged him closer to him before he could make an escape. He slung his arm over Lu Guang the way he always did, the way he did with everyone he considered a friend, except the words that followed were not friend-like at all: “I’m sorry. I’m already dating him.”

Lu Guang did not protest. Cheng Xiaoshi was subtly stepping on his shoe and he knew it was on purpose, a request to keep quiet. To double down, Cheng Xiaoshi’s arm had traveled down, settling his hand on the curve of Lu Guang’s waist. Lu Guang wondered what he did to deserve this, but fortunately, the girl spoke before he could follow that train of thought. “Oh, I see. Sorry. I didn’t know. Forget what I said then.” And she hastily made her exit, embarrassment colored her features, before Lu Guang could even think to get a word in.

With the coast now clear, Cheng Xiaoshi let him go. Lu Guang immediately pinched his ear. “Ow! I’m sorry, okay! I had to think of something quick!”

“My shoe,” he pointed out.

“I’ll clean it. It’s not even that dirty.”

“You could have just rejected her.”

“Lu Guang, you have no idea how long I’ve been doing this.” He was right; Lu Guang didn’t. It was jarring for a number of reasons, but though he could enumerate it all, what was more peculiar was Cheng Xiaoshi’s reaction.

“I thought you’d be happier,” Lu Guang said. “You like being at the center of attention.”

“You don’t need to say it like that,” Cheng Xiaoshi pouted. “Anyway, it’s not the same. It’s not like they’re cheering for me at the sidelines, yelling that I’m awesome or that I’m cute. They’re pulling me to weird places and saying they want to date me. It’s all coming out of nowhere too!”

Every time Lu Guang learned something about Cheng Xiaoshi, sometimes he had to take a pause to take in his own surprise at the idea, as if it was unexpected that there were things about Cheng Xiaoshi that Lu Guang was not privy to. It was nonsensical. Lu Guang had to piece it apart later. “Well, at least they’re not doing it because of your reputation. You’re not even on varsity.”

Cheng Xiaoshi frowned, like he didn’t know if he was supposed to read Lu Guang’s remark as an insult or a backhanded compliment, but he didn’t push it. “I’ve run out of ways to tell someone no. I think it’s worse when they actually beg for me to reconsider. That’s been happening a lot more lately, and she looked like the type who was going to do that, so. Here we are.”

“Here we are,” Lu Guang echoed emptily. It was a Wednesday morning, and Lu Guang had three classes back to back to attend to after this. By the shoes Cheng Xiaoshi wore, and by the familiarity of knowing his schedule, it was clear he came back from the court, joining the varsity team in their morning practice matches and training, just because he could and they liked him well enough. Lu Guang could smell his sweat from their proximity. He wondered why the girl had pushed for a confession regardless, in spite of Cheng Xiaoshi’s less than ideal state for what Lu Guang presumed to be a special moment. “Don’t rope me into this again. I came here to borrow your speakers.”

“Oh! Right.”

Cheng Xiaoshi pulled out the speakers from his backpack to hand them to Lu Guang. He had seen them before, but found himself turning the device over like it was his first time. As such, Cheng Xiaoshi began launching into an explanation for its state: the slight scratches over it, the missing button, the faded print, but, he reassured, it was still functional in that it was able to loudly play something, whatever it was Lu Guang needed it for. It occurred to Lu Guang that he technically knew all this already, and Xu Shanshan had far better speakers and had even offered to let him borrow it if he needed, and he still went to Cheng Xiaoshi for them instead, simply because one time Cheng Xiaoshi had offhandedly said that he’d really appreciate it if Lu Guang relied on him for things, even if it’d be for something as minor as borrowing a pen (which Cheng Xiaoshi wouldn’t have owned; he did everything on his tablet), or a book (which Lu Guang would never need because he took plenty care of his own), or his speakers.

↻

Now that Lu Guang knew it was a thing that happened, it was as if he was seeing it all the time. The manner in which people gave Cheng Xiaoshi thoughtful side glances when they passed by him in the halls, the lingering touches when their hands would accidentally brush his or unintentionally bump into his defined muscles that bulged from his too-thin shirts. When girls spoke to Cheng Xiaoshi, they batted their eyelashes and smiled invitingly. Nothing was ever done overtly, which was why he missed it and reacted to them all magnanimously, unaware of ulterior motives or infatuation-fueled interpretations to his actions, but Lu Guang saw and understood how the frequency of confessions coming Cheng Xiaoshi’s way was no unexpected phenomenon. There was a build up to these things, and Cheng Xiaoshi simply noticed them when they were past the threshold. It was an interesting contrast, his desire to be fawned over by others paired with his obliviousness to avenues in which people wanted to give it to him. But Cheng Xiaoshi had always been about things being spelled out.

“Lu Guang,” Cheng Xiaoshi said now. “Lu Guang. Are you mad at me?”

“No.” He took a while to pull his eyes away from Cheng Xiaoshi’s hands, fingers fiddling with the plastic wrap of the chocolate bar he was pretending wasn’t difficult to open. Earlier, when Lu Guang had given the snack to him, those very fingers curled along his for a lingering moment. “Should I be?”

“No.” The cafeteria today was quiet, good for reading in a way it normally was not. Stalls were winding down, preparing to close shop for the day. Soon they would be asked to vacate the premises, classes long concluded and students long expected to return home. But Cheng Xiaoshi needed to wait for Xu Shanshan and Qiao Ling, and Lu Guang had nothing better to do for the afternoon except to return this book he was now reading to the library. The last few pages fitted between his fingertips. It was a distinguished Shakespearean comedy, though Cheng Xiaoshi had lost interest seventeen seconds into Lu Guang’s explanation of its premise. “Oh, hi there.”

Lu Guang glanced up as a shadow loomed over their table. It was a girl who he didn’t recognize, but Cheng Xiaoshi did, based on his question of: “we’re in the same Chemistry class, right?” to which she nodded in agreement. Her wavy hair rested neatly on her shoulders and she had good posture. She spoke with a solemn cadence as she handed Cheng Xiaoshi a notebook, which he apparently lent her in class so she could borrow his surprisingly detailed notes, thanking him for helping her during recitation. When Cheng Xiaoshi responded, her head tilted to his direction like she was drawn to his voice. She paid Lu Guang no mind, as if he was never there, which was only fair, as Lu Guang himself was a pale shadow compared to Cheng Xiaoshi’s radiant presence, not to mention that Lu Guang did not want to be here in the first place. He looked back at his book, hoping that the conversation would be brief enough to last the remaining pages he had left to read.

By the time Xu Shanshan and Qiao Ling, they were still talking. “Hello!” Qiao Ling greeted the girl warmly, “I’ve never seen you before. Are you a friend of Cheng Xiaoshi’s?”

“Classmate,” she replied. “Are you his girlfriend?”

“I’d rather hang myself,” Cheng Xiaoshi said, just as Qiao Ling responded, “That’s the grossest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“I see,” the girl said, in a particular tone that Cheng Xiaoshi and Qiao Ling missed, glaring at each other for their responses, but Xu Shanshan caught on. Lu Guang buried his head farther into his book.

“Oh?” Xu Shanshan sounded amused. “Who knew that pretty girls like you were interested in annoying guys like him.” She pinched Cheng Xiaoshi’s cheek, and Cheng Xiaoshi batted her away.

“Who are you calling annoying!”

There was more clarity in the girl’s eyes, understanding the dynamic between Xu Shanshan and Cheng Xiaoshi without a confirmation, before it changed to confidence. She cleared her throat, calling their attention and ceasing their squabbling. “Cheng Xiaoshi,” she began. “Would you like to go out with me?”

Lu Guang was reaching the last page of the book. He began reading much slower, pretending that using his eyes meant he could not use his ears and hear anything from this exchange.

Cheng Xiaoshi was dumbfounded. “Uh, you—what?”

“You’re cute,” she continued. “I understand that this is very forward of me, and maybe even shocking, but I’ve liked you for some time now, and when you let me split your ice cream with you a few days ago, I thought you were interested too.”

“Oh,” was all Cheng Xiaoshi could say. Lu Guang wondered how many girls Cheng Xiaoshi shared ice cream with. “Well, I—thank you, but I—” His gaze flitted nervously to Xiao Ling, then to Xu Shanshan, who both looked at him like he was crazy, before he finally remembered Lu Guang was there. Something cold settled in Lu Guang’s gut. “I’m already seeing someone. This guy!”

The girl was startled. “Him?”

“Yes.” Cheng Xiaoshi’s mouth twisted, like he didn’t understand why it was hard for her to conceive of such a notion. Lu Guang wondered if his book hid his mortification well. “He’s very beautiful. For a guy.”

Lu Guang thought that the comment was completely unnecessary, but the girl frowned. “Are you sure?”

“That he’s good-looking?”

Shut up, Lu Guang thought. He should say something. He already told Cheng Xiaoshi they weren’t doing this again, and had falsely assumed that because Cheng Xiaoshi never brought it up since then, it would never have a repeat performance.

“That you two are actually… a thing," she trailed off. No, Lu Guang almost cut in, ending this charade, but then she began to blink wetly. “If you weren’t interested, a simple no would’ve sufficed. You don’t need to humiliate me like this by lying.”

She was a nice girl, objectively, even if Lu Guang did not have much pleasant feelings about her, regardless of the fact that he did not know her enough to be justified in having an opinion. But their hands were tied now. Cheng Xiaoshi was looking at him to say something, as if Lu Guang was the one who got them into this mess. Lu Guang was largely indifferent, desperate to be uninvolved, and lacked Cheng Xiaoshi’s inherent warmth, but he never considered himself cruel.

“We’re not lying,” Lu Guang found himself saying. He anticipated a degree of difficulty in saying this, but the words came out without gritting his teeth. “We’re together.” He reached for Cheng Xiaoshi’s hand and interlaced their fingers. Cheng Xiaoshi’s hands were not as calloused as he expected, nor were they as large as they seemed from a distance. “We’re just private about it.”

“How long?” Xu Shanshan asked, and that was when Lu Guang remembered their friends were still here.

“It's a recent development,” he explained, avoiding Xu Shanshan and Qiao Ling’s knowing looks. “He asked me out a month ago.”

“Oh, at the fundraiser?” Xu Shanshan mused. “Is that why you guys took so long to show up?”

Nothing happened, Lu Guang wanted to protest. But he held his tongue.

“I see,” the girl said. “So that's how it is.”

Cheng Xiaoshi turned to her. “I’m sorry,” he said, apologetic. “But I don't see you that way.”

She nodded. “I understand. We can't control how we feel.” She took a step back, as if to leave, but then she glanced at Lu Guang. “Though as his boyfriend, maybe you should keep him in check before he does something that can hurt someone. Like lead them on.”

“He's not a dog,” Lu Guang muttered icily, but she had already left. Cheng Xiaoshi was looking at him strangely. “What? You're not.”

“I know,” Cheng Xiaoshi said. “You're just…”

Whatever Cheng Xiaoshi was planning to say, he didn't finish it, because Xu Shanshan interrupted with, “Cheng Xiaoshi, who was that?”

Cheng Xiaoshi wilted. “I… don’t know her name, actually…”

“You don’t know?” Xu Shanshan shrieked. “You are a dog. And sharing ice cream? That's basically an indirect kiss! What was the flavor?”

“Why is that important? It was strawberry…”

“I knew it! That’s the most romantic flavor. What's wrong with you?”

“What do you mean what's wrong with me? It was hot and she was hungry! What was I supposed to do?”

They were still holding hands. Lu Guang tried to let go, but Cheng Xiaoshi’s grip only tightened. He didn't seem to be aware of it as he continued arguing with Xu Shanshan, failing to defend his honor. Lu Guang sighed and reached for the chocolate bar, its plastic crinkled from Cheng Xiaoshi’s failed attempts to open it. With his free hand, he brought it to his lips, tearing it open in fluid motion with his teeth.

The sound startled Cheng Xiaoshi, making him let go, and Lu Guang handed over the chocolate bar back to him. Cheng Xiaoshi accepted it warily. Lu Guang squinted at him. “It’s not unhygienic."

“Huh?” He sounded winded, like someone had knocked the breath out of his lungs. “Oh, yeah, I know.”

He seemed distracted, on the verge of something that Lu Guang had a feeling he should know about, but Xu Shanshan was not done grilling Cheng Xiaoshi for what she called his inappropriate heartbreaker behavior. Lu Guang suddenly noticed how Qiao Ling was awfully silent.

“Has this happened before?” she asked, quiet enough that only he could hear.

“Only one other time,” Lu Guang answered. “Bad timing on my end. Maybe next time it'll be Dong Yi’s turn.”

“I wouldn't count on that,” said Qiao Ling, after a pause. “No one gives into Cheng Xiaoshi quite like you do.”

Lu Guang said nothing to that; he only closed the book. He didn’t think he quite understood the ending, the same way he didn’t quite understand how this even started.

↻

Was there a ballpark for the confessions? Cheng Xiaoshi did not personally have a number, and Lu Guang wouldn’t have trusted it, taking into account all the ones who did not confess but obviously liked him. Statistically, if things continued at their current pace, the entire female student population would’ve been in love with Cheng Xiaoshi, which was not the most absurd notion, given his affable personality, his marble-carved body, his charismatic smile, but was highly unlikely, if only because there had to be at least one girl that Cheng Xiaoshi would’ve said yes to, would’ve taken on a date, would’ve split an ice cream with, would’ve dragged to watch and wait for him as he played basketball, would’ve waited for outside as classes wrapped up to surprise them with boba tea.

As it was, there was no boba, but there Cheng Xiaoshi was, standing by the window of Lu Guang's classroom. He was oblivious to the fact that he could be seen from the inside, because when they made eye contact, Cheng Xiaoshi did not beckon for attention, did not look at him with delight. Instead, his expression softened, shuttering into something vulnerable that he would not normally reveal, but only when he thought nobody was looking. Such privacy made sense, as it only made him look more handsome, and Lu Guang could not imagine a further influx of single students taking an interest being a good idea.

Sure enough, when class wrapped up, the room enveloped in quiet murmurings. “Who is that outside?” he heard his classmates ask amongst themselves. “I’ve never seen him before. He seems to be waiting for someone.” There was a distance of eight chairs between where Lu Guang sat and the door. “He’s kind of hot. Is that someone’s boyfriend?” Lu Guang packed hurriedly. Rather than carefully slotting his things in their proper places, compartments, and pockets, he shoved everything inside and all but fled out the classroom.

“Lu Guang!” Cheng Xiaoshi exclaimed. His voice echoed loudly along the hall. They were in the noisier side of the campus, the building where most classes were conducted; still, a few people glanced their way at Cheng Xiaoshi’s excited shout, and Lu Guang pretended like it didn’t bother him. It didn’t, really; there was a way in which Cheng Xiaoshi said his name that had an edge of thrill to it, how pleased Cheng Xiaoshi sounded, like Lu Guang’s name was a word he was particularly fond of using, making the volume in which he said it nearly irrelevant. Of course girls would fall for his feet; how dangerous would it be, if he knew their names and formed their shape on his soft pink lips, using that voice of his that reminded Lu Guang of bell chimes. “Here. I got you this.”

Not boba, but coffee instead. Lu Guang accepted it cautiously, noting that it was his favorite flavor, from his favorite shop. But there were no ulterior motives behind Cheng Xiaoshi’s gesture, no request to copy homework, no plea for forgiveness because he’d done something he shouldn’t have, no girl who would abruptly spring up on their side to make a confession that Lu Guang would have to intervene on to save Cheng Xiaoshi’s non-existent virtue. Still, he felt the need to check. “Did you do something?”’

“I’d like to think not,” Cheng Xiaoshi said lightly. He followed Lu Guang’s lead as they left the building, taking an exit that most did not use because it was along a more troublesome terrain, overgrown grass and ferns blooming under their feet. The school was still in the middle of building concrete on the soil to lay out a proper path. “It’s just to make up for all the things I’ve done that I know you weren’t happy about.”

“Of course I’m not happy about it,” Lu Guang said, though in truth the coffee mildly alleviated his annoyance, but that was not the point of the conversation. He would not let himself get swayed by bribery. “You spring these things on me without warning, and you never ask me before if I’m okay with them.” Cheng Xiaoshi winced. “Do you know how dangerous that is? You can’t just assume everyone will go along with what you want.”

“I’m sorry, okay,” he whined. “I just panic. I’m not good at this, especially feelings.” Lu Guang gave him a disbelieving look, so he added, “People’s feelings. It’s always harder when it’s not your own. You know what I mean.”

Did he? “Whatever you say.”

“What should I do?” Cheng Xiaoshi asked. “What would you do if you were in my place?”

“That’s a trick question,” Lu Guang said evenly. “I would never be in this situation to begin with.”

“Lu Guang.”

It had rained while Lu Guang was in class. From the safety of the classroom, he had watched the sky turn grey and rumble with a muted thunder, followed by a rainfall that made the professor’s lecture harder to listen to. Lu Guang wrote down his notes diligently regardless, even though he perused the reading materials prior and already knew everything his professor was saying. Now, as they walked, Lu Guang felt the wet soil under his shoes and the moist air around them, and he noticed, as well, the dampness of Cheng Xiaoshi’s curly hair, the beads of water that clung to his neck and his bare legs. His socks and the hem of his shorts had dark patches to them.

“Did you get rained on?” Lu Guang asked.

“Hmm? Just a bit.”

Lu Guang glanced at his coffee cup, which was made of paper but dry and in good condition. Cheng Xiaoshi never brought an umbrella, but he always had a jacket, and it was not that hard, putting two and two together, a Cheng Xiaoshi dashing in the rain to make it to Lu Guang’s classroom with his jacket wrapped around the coffee to keep it from getting wet. Sure enough, when Lu Guang reached over to touch the fabric of Cheng Xiaoshi’s jacket, it was slightly wet and sticky from the inside rather than at the shoulder sleeves, some of the coffee having spilled over from the lid. He contemplated scolding Cheng Xiaoshi for his mismatched priorities, but it would’ve been unproductive, and worse, Cheng Xiaoshi would feel bad and underappreciated. “You should get this washed,” he said instead. “Hand washed,” he clarified, knowing what Cheng Xiaoshi was going to say before he even said it. “Stains like these don’t get out easily with a washing machine.”

“See, you’re sensible,” Cheng Xiaoshi remarked wistfully. “You think about these things. These little details, and knowing them are always helpful, and that’s why you don’t have this problem and all these misunderstandings with girls.” Wisely, Lu Guang did not point out that the real reason he didn’t have any of these issues was because he was not as approachable to girls as Cheng Xiaoshi was, and he purposefully kept it that way. He was also not Cheng Xiaoshi, who was good at sports, excellent at photography, impressively tall, and easily likable. When Cheng Xiaoshi laughed, people glanced his way and their gazes lingered, like he was music and they wanted to commit the tune to memory. But when Lu Guang smiled, an absentminded curve of his mouth, only Cheng Xiaoshi would notice. “But when I think about it, these things only ever really happen when you’re not around, so doesn’t that mean the solution is for us to spend more time together?”

Lu Guang nearly choked midway through drinking from his coffee, caught off guard by how Cheng Xiaoshi drew this conclusion. “I don’t think—”

He cut himself off. Cheng Xiaoshi was no longer listening to him. A cat had wandered their way, a stray Lu Guang often saw but did not pay much attention to because of the explicit signs posted on the building walls warning not to entertain them, and he knew the university itself took care of the strays, so the request was in deference to the students’ own convenience and comfort. Indulgence bred expectation, especially the type that could not be consistently met. But Cheng Xiaoshi was Cheng Xiaoshi, and did not think to sweat the small details of these things. He crouched down and pulled out a small bag of sunflower seeds, which he took a handful of to beckon the cat towards him. The cat’s steps were tentative, but eventually he leaned down to Cheng Xiaoshi’s palm and began eating from his palm. Lu Guang supposed that even animals were not immune to Cheng Xiaoshi’s welcoming nature.

He thought upon Cheng Xiaoshi’s words, and how his own silence was an agreement in its own right. He thought about Qiao Ling, and her words, and that it seemed that despite his intentions, they weren’t refuting those anytime soon.

↻

Likely, it had come to light during last month’s semi-annual fundraiser. Twice a year the university would arrange this, lining up booths along the largest garden on campus. They reused materials from previous years for decor, rented tables and tents, and played lousy DJ music. In all of Lu Guang’s time studying, he never understood what they were raising funds for, but every time he attended, it was only ever for Cheng Xiaoshi’s sake. He went to these things faithfully, even though the food was the same greasy things they sold at the cafeteria, the activities were boring repeats from the last time, and most of the people who went to these things were naive freshmen who had nothing better to do in the spaces between classes.

Cheng Xiaoshi was not the event's photographer, but he always took his camera with him, so people expected him to take photos. It was not his intention, but it worked well in his favor; when people requested for his pictures, they offered to pay, especially if they were good shots, and it was great for his business, his dream to rebuild the photo studio his parents left behind. Ever since they met, when Lu Guang would tag along, Cheng Xiaoshi asked for more of his time after they left the fundraiser to help him go through the gallery of everything he’d taken, trusting in Lu Guang’s keen eye to filter out the blurry and bad shots and patience to go the menial work while Cheng Xiaoshi played games on his phone.

This fundraiser was nothing new, as a result. Except there was a kissing booth, and there was always probably a kissing booth, Lu Guang surmised, but only now did Cheng Xiaoshi bid it a second glance. Lu Guang wondered if it was because the girl manning the booth was, for the first time ever, a girl, and had hollered at them as they passed by, asking if they wanted to donate. She had called for both of them, using a word Lu Guang didn’t catch but Cheng Xiaoshi did, and it must have been the right one, because a blush spread across Cheng Xiaoshi’s features, and he unsurprisingly complied, going to her perhaps for that reason, aside from the obvious reason, the she was a girl part. But that was the extent of expectation. Cheng Xiaoshi nervously stopped in front of her, dropped a bill in the jar, and had not claimed his kiss. It was the first time he went to a booth and had not taken anything for what he gave.

Sometimes their friends were charitable enough to gratify Cheng Xiaoshi’s little whims, but for the most part, it was just Lu Guang who accompanied Cheng Xiaoshi, without fail. Qiao Ling, Xu Shanshan, and Dong Yi compromised, and were going to meet with them shortly. If any of them were there with them, they would’ve loudly teased Cheng Xiaoshi for his timidity until he would’ve been red in the face and indignant, but as much as Lu Guang found a flustered Cheng Xiaoshi amusing, he did not prod him like that. Instead, as they walked away from the booth, about to head to the promised meeting place with their friends, Lu Guang commented mildly, “I thought you would’ve kissed her.”

Cheng Xiaoshi gave him a look. “You didn’t hear her, did you.”

“Did she say something?”

“She referred to us as boyfriends.”

“Does that make you uncomfortable?” Lu Guang asked. “It’s a flirtatious promotional tactic to sell the booth. In books, love interests meet in whimsical situations like these.” He suddenly thought about how that could’ve been Cheng Xiaoshi and the girl herself, a fictional meet-cute unfolding before Lu Guang’s very eyes, if not for Cheng Xiaoshi’s unusual avoidance of the situation.

Cheng Xiaoshi pressed his lips into a thin line, but whatever he was going to say in response to Lu Guang’s observation, he didn’t push. “Guess it’s not important,” he relented. “So you don’t think the booth was inappropriate?”

“On the contrary,” Lu Guang paused. If Xu Shanshan was here, she would’ve joked that it was the exact kind of booth Cheng Xiaoshi would’ve wanted to take advantage of. But she wasn’t, and Lu Guang knew it wasn’t true. Despite how he chose to come off as, Cheng Xiaoshi was awfully proper about most things. “If it really was, it wouldn’t have been sanctioned in the first place. That means there’s a market for these things, and nobody is taking it seriously enough to have an issue with it.”

“That’s true.”

“When she calls for people to stop by her booth, she’s consenting to kissing whoever donates. And when you go there and give money, you consent as well to being kissed,” Lu Guang continued. “So no one gets hurt.”

“I suppose.”

Lu Guang looked at him, but Cheng Xiaoshi wasn’t budging. It was not that his guard was up, Lu Guang could tell the shift in his mood when he was, but more that there was something troubling him. “Did you know her?”

“No.”

“Did you not find her pretty?”

“It’s not that,” Cheng Xiaoshi said. “But don’t you think a kiss should be… more than that? It should be an intimate thing, shared between two people who spend a lot of time together, who have a special relationship, who love each other. So if you give it to someone—people—that you’re not even seriously dating, or practically strangers, it kind of loses the meaning of its importance, doesn’t it? I always kind of look at kissing as the next step in a relationship, when it first starts out. It’s the more that people expect, things like that. It’s not the thing you dive headfirst into.”

“I don’t think you’re wrong,” Lu Guang agreed carefully. If Cheng Xiaoshi was the kind of person who only wanted to do such things with someone he had that deep of a connection with, someone he was officially seeing, someone he properly courted and openly loved, that made reasonable sense for his discomfort at the situation, and there was no fault in it. Lu Guang personally had no strong feelings on the matter; only references to what he read and what others thought of it. The act of kissing was no casual gesture, but it was not something he held up in particular reverence like Cheng Xiaoshi did.

But Lu Guang found himself stuck on another point instead. He didn’t know if Cheng Xiaoshi had ever been in a relationship before. He was vocal about what he liked, but for all the years Lu Guang knew him, he had never dated anyone, and it seemed that these were things that held great significance to him, the romance of a relationship. If he meant what he said, and what Lu Guang presumed was true, then that meant—

“Have you never kissed anyone before?” he asked before he could stop himself.

“What? I have,” Cheng Xiaoshi said with a frown. He looked at Lu Guang funny. “I’ve been in relationships. It's not that weird of a thought.”

“I never said it was,” said Lu Guang, but he looked away, feeling caught. It wasn’t a weird thought, Cheng Xiaoshi in a relationship. Cheng Xiaoshi dating people. Cheng Xiaoshi kissing someone. He was no ingénu, no blushing virgin. He was a boy, just like any other boy, just like Lu Guang was, so of course, the same way Lu Guang had been in relationships previously, Cheng Xiaoshi had too. It was very normal, actually, and the only thing truly weird was Lu Guang’s own reaction on the matter, startled yes, but more than that, dismayed. They had veered off the path, both physically and metaphorically. Though what exact conclusion Lu Guang was hoping to reach, even he didn’t know. “We’re running late. We should hurry.”

“Okay,” Cheng Xiaoshi agreed, nonplussed. “Anyway, if you were wondering, I didn't intend to kiss her. I just wanted to donate to the cause. Because I’m generous like that.”

Lu Guang blinked. “If you say so.”

Cheng Xiaoshi puffed up his cheeks indignantly. “What does that mean, if I say so? Do you not believe me?” Lu Guang said nothing, even when Cheng Xiaoshi slung his arm over his shoulder to slightly shake him. “Lu Guang.”

Lu Guang ignored him, far too used to Cheng Xiaoshi’s whining, but when they met their friends at the agreed rendezvous point, Cheng Xiaoshi was sufficiently placated, happily humming as he chewed on jianbing. He gloated to Qiao Ling, who complained that she wanted that too but hasn't seen it, and Lu Guang said nothing about how he'd gone out of his way to get it for Cheng Xiaoshi.

“It's not like you to be late,” Xu Shanshan told Lu Guang teasingly. “Got sidetracked by any fresh meat on the way here?”

Lu Guang rolled his eyes. “No,” he said, and then added, at her questioning look, “It was just Cheng Xiaoshi.”

“Ah. As always, at the scene of the crime.”

“Lu Guang,” Don't Yi piped up. “Did you finish the history report for Ms. Yu’s class?”

“Not yet.”

“Didn't you say you were going to work on it this morning?”

“Well,” he paused. “Cheng Xiaoshi wanted to go out this morning for the fundraiser, so I didn't have the time.”

“The fundraiser opens at 11. Weren't you guys out at 8?”

“We had breakfast.”

“And didn't you guys still stay out after dinner last night?”

“I didn't stay over at the studio,” Lu Guang said, tone coming out as more defensive than he realized. But what was there to defend when there was no attack, simply a question? It was true that after dinner, when all five of them split up, Lu Guang and Cheng Xiaoshi hadn't parted ways just yet. Instead Lu Guang had walked him home, as was custom, really, for no other reason than Cheng Xiaoshi asking him to one day and Lu Guang unable to think of why he shouldn't do it, and then Cheng Xiaoshi invited him in, and they finished a movie they had been putting off for months, and by the time Lu Guang made it back to the dorms, it was only an hour before the sun would've rose and he woke up to Cheng Xiaoshi's text saying, I'm outside your dorm! Let's have breakfast. He was relatively rigid in his schedules, sensible about his time management, but whenever Cheng Xiaoshi wanted something, they became optional, or at least something he no longer centered himself on so that he could slot Cheng Xiaoshi in instead.

“You guys spend too much time together,” Qiao Ling said, as Cheng Xiaoshi had wandered off to throw away the wax paper of his jianbing. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m glad that you guys are close, but he's also kind of hard to say no to, and he does ask a lot from you. If you ever feel overwhelmed, just let me know, okay?”

It was Qiao Ling, and she was the only person who could have said something like that without being some slight at Cheng Xiaoshi, but rather coming from a place of rational care, which Lu Guang understood as well. Cheng Xiaoshi was nothing if not consistent; when there was someone whose company he enjoyed, he made sure to always spend time with them. He doled out affection equally, generously, a little too casually. He did not have the highest standards for liking people, in Lu Guang's opinion, though Cheng Xiaoshi only really kept a few friends close. He wasn't the same as Lu Guang, who blatantly played favorites, and it was so plain to see that their friends caught on, and naturally Cheng Xiaoshi did not.

“It's not that bad,” Lu Guang said. “I can always put my foot down.”

“You can,” agreed Qiao Ling, “which isn't the same as doing it.”

The thread of conversation dropped when Cheng Xiaoshi returned, telling everyone to come close and get ready for a group picture to commemorate the occasion. When they passed by the kissing booth, Cheng Xiaoshi did a poor job of pretending like it was just like any other booth, and so Qiao Ling began needling him about it. Cheng Xiaoshi didn't budge in the suggestions to try his luck once—“Qiao Ling, are you nuts? That's a guy!”—but he didn't tell them anything from his conversation with Lu Guang earlier. He didn't mention anything about his conversation with Lu Guang about it. Qiao Ling’s concern was not unfounded. Cheng Xiaoshi was not a bad influence, but his presence occasionally derailed Lu Guang from doing things he previously committed to doing. And sure, he had the ability to stop it, yet he didn’t. The problem, Lu Guang concluded, was not in Cheng Xiaoshi, but in himself instead. But that was fine. Cheng Xiaoshi-shaped problems, in his opinion, were straightforwardly solvable.

↻

(It only occurred to him much later that when the original girl at the booth called them boyfriends, it was not in playful reference to her. No wonder Cheng Xiaoshi had acted so strangely. And no wonder, perhaps, his mind had erroneously concluded that the solution to ward off women was to create a boyfriend farce with Lu Guang.)

↻

Cheng Xiaoshi and Lu Guang did not have the same majors, so all their shared classes were the required foundational classes in the curriculum. In the early days of the semester, they had them consistently, but after midterms, the frequency and load must have weighed on their professors, who began to make class less mandatory to attend so long as they could hand in their outputs on time.

The situation surprisingly pleased Lu Guang more than it did for Cheng Xiaoshi, even though Cheng Xiaoshi was arguably busier and needed the free time. “Because that means there’s less time for us to spend together,” Cheng Xiaoshi explained, which would’ve been a comment that was sentimental, this clear trust Cheng Xiaoshi had in Lu Guang to be vulnerable about his clinginess, and also a bit strange, as if they only ever spent time together in class, except he was saying this in context to Lu Guang being his inspiration to turn in assignments on time, which meant he was mostly trying to get away with his irresponsibility.

He made well on his promise, or at least his declaration of a decision, if it hadn’t been a promise; about fifteen minutes before the marked end of Lu Guang’s last class, Cheng Xiaoshi would show up and wander around the hall until Lu Guang’s professor dismissed them. The murmurings died down in lieu of classmates watching Lu Guang as he packed to leave, whisking Cheng Xiaoshi away before some suitable bachelorette made the brave effort to approach him. This had gone out for a week, with the intent of continuing, and Lu Guang presumed that would be the extent of it, but one day Cheng Xiaoshi asked if Lu Guang minded picking him up from his basketball games when he played in the afternoon, on Wednesdays and Thursdays, if he was free, of course, it was no obligation, but Lu Guang had none, and so an hour before the sun would set he would make the trip to the basketball courts where Cheng Xiaoshi played and sat by the bench doing homework or catching up on some reading until Cheng Xiaoshi was thoroughly spent.

Cheng Xiaoshi had never explicitly said they were doing these things to keep up this boyfriend act, but despite his own need for things to be spelled out, Lu Guang understood implication, the logical progression of things, unsaid expectation, and he was also nothing if not a problem solver, especially for Cheng Xiaoshi’s problems. So Lu Guang took it up a notch and invited him for brunch every week; he would make the trip to Cheng Xiaoshi’s studio, for a change, rather than all the constant meet-ups in campus, otherwise they would get sick of a place they were meant to still spend over a year in still until graduation. They alternated between eating in with whatever Cheng Xiaoshi had available in the pantry and going out to someplace new. While Cheng Xiaoshi would take charge of cooking any meals in his place, it was Lu Guang’s responsibility to surprise Cheng Xiaoshi on what places they were going to try.

Today Lu Guang had taken Cheng Xiaoshi to a cafe. It was not one of those hole-in-the-walls that they’d been eating in, but a semi-famous place that Guidu students frequented because they had good coffee and cheap pastries. Despite its popularity, they always had available seats; students came and went, using their brief lulls in between classes to take out drinks. The cafe had an interesting gimmick, a canine mascot with stuffed toy dogs left on the chairs and tables. Cheng Xiaoshi was cradling one of them now as he tried to complete his essay, some dog breed Lu Guang didn’t know but believed looked like Cheng Xiaoshi. He snapped a picture just because he could, solely because of the dog and not at all because Cheng Xiaoshi decided to roll his sleeves up, claiming it would help him work faster. (It did not personally benefit Lu Guang to question his logic.) They were situated by the window, where students inside and students passing by could see them and draw their own conclusions. Lu Guang figured this course of action was effective in alleviating Cheng Xiaoshi’s dilemma; when passersby would catch light of Cheng Xiaoshi through the window and their eyes would trail to his boyishly handsome face, to hard lines of his deltoids and biceps, to the thick calves his shorts did not cover, their gaze would land on Lu Guang’s bony legs nearly slotted in between to fit in the tiny table they occupied, and they would know better than to ask, to entertain the possibility.

“Hey, Lu Guang,” Cheng Xiaoshi started. “Am I intruding on your time?”

Lu Guang blinked. He’d been highlighting a paper on his tablet and stopped mid-line to process the question. “What?”

Cheng Xiaoshi was chewing on his bottom lip. “I know we’re spending a lot of time together. And we already do, usually, but I know that it’s even more now… or lately. And I don’t think it’s too much, this isn’t me asking for less, it’s just—isn’t it for you? How come you never turn me down when I ask to see you? Aren’t there other people you’d rather spend time with? Or need to?”

When he spent time with other people who weren’t Cheng Xiaoshi, it was only ever for the classes he didn’t share with him, or the anime club. “Not really,” Lu Guang answered. “For commitments like group projects or the club, yes, I do need to spend time with them to get the work done, but that doesn’t mean I need to see them frequently for it. So you’re not intruding. In the end, if I really don’t want to do something, I won’t do it.”

“Okay,” was all Cheng Xiaoshi said, but he looked visibly relieved at Lu Guang’s answer.

Lu Guang tapped his finger on the table thoughtfully. “What about you?” he asked, the words leaving his mouth before he considered that he was at least wondering about it. “Wouldn’t you rather spend your time with other people rather than just me?”

“It’s not like I don’t,” Cheng Xiaoshi said. There was a pensive look on his face as he closed his laptop. “But your company is my favorite, so why wouldn’t I spend so much time with you?”

It was not a question Cheng Xiaoshi was expecting an answer to, but even if he did, Lu Guang wouldn’t have personally known the reason. It was why, he realized, he was curious. “And those girls,” he said. “Why do you reject them all? It’s definitely not because of their looks or personality.” He stated this like a fact, though his evidence was only from his own experience. But Cheng Xiaoshi was a good person; it was only logical that people who were just as good would be attracted to him.

“Well, when you think about it, dating is a bit troublesome,” Cheng Xiaoshi responded, bringing the stuffed toy closer to his chest. “And as much as I find girls pretty, I never really have anything in common with them that we can ever do together. Qiao Ling is different. We grew up together. But everyone else—they’re always into things I don’t get or I find boring. Which always makes Xu Shanshan mad when I tell her, but it’s true!”

“Why not boys then?”

“Boys are kind of ugly, aren’t they?” mused Cheng Xiaoshi. “But not you, so I guess that makes you the exception.”

Lu Guang didn’t have a response to that, but it was an answer to his question, so his eyes returned to his tablet instead. He forgot why he thought it was important to read the article on the screen. Cheng Xiaoshi’s words were cheeky, with no underlying meaning to it. Still, Lu Guang wondered if Cheng Xiaoshi understood how they sounded, that it was as if he liked Lu Guang in that way. But then it dawned on Lu Guang, as Cheng Xiaoshi took his attention to the stuffed toy to entertain himself until their next class and commented idly, I know you said this looks like me, but actually, I think it reminds me more of you, that even if Cheng Xiaoshi needed things to be spelled out, Lu Guang didn’t, and even if Cheng Xiaoshi didn’t understand what exactly he was saying, what he was doing, Lu Guang certainly did. This was a confession. Cheng Xiaoshi liked him.

↻

“Lu Guang,” Dong Yi said, “Are you okay? You’ve been lying down on your book for ten minutes now. Your alarm rang three minutes ago. I think it was the first time I ever saw the librarian look at you with murder.”

It was unfortunate that there was only Dong Yi to deal with the fallout, but it could only be him, really, when he didn’t want to deal with Xu Shanshan and Qiao Ling, and Dong Yi was a man; surely, man to man, he would be able to understand. Cheng Xiaoshi was not an option. He was not a man like the rest of them were, which was to say, mere mortals who had completely different reactions when confronted with the realization that someone liked them, which was not to try and pretend you’re dating someone else; also, this very catastrophe was caused by him. And so Lu Guang fully expected Dong Yi to understand the utterly normal reaction Lu Guang had to this, which was to spiral over the fact that Cheng Xiaoshi liked him. Cheng Xiaoshi liked him. Cheng Xiaoshi…

“Cheng Xiaoshi likes me,” he muttered.

Dong Yi paused in his typing. “Is that supposed to be a surprise? Of course he likes you.”

Lu Guang finally lifted his head. “I mean, he likes me in that way.”

The puzzlement on Dong Yi’s face remained. “Aren’t you dating?”

“No. It was just fake,” he said. “Fake dating.”

“I see,” Dong Yi said, even though it was clear he didn’t. He adjusted his glasses. “Well, it seemed pretty real to me.”

Cheng Xiaoshi was with Xu Shanshan and Qiao Ling. They had extended the invitation for Lu Guang and Dong Yi to come along with them as they played video games in the studio, but the two of them had arranged to meet beforehand to work. It was a convenient arrangement. The idea of facing Cheng Xiaoshi as it was hadn’t been something Lu Guang was capable of at the moment. “What should I do?”

Dong Yi frowned. “Do you have to do anything?”

“Of course I should,” he said. He smoothened the pages of his book, unhappy with the creases even though he was responsible for them. “Otherwise he won't know that I like him. He needs things spelled out.”

“So you like him.”

“Of course I like him,” said Lu Guang mildly. His feelings were never the question here. “Cheng Xiaoshi is a very likable person. I’m surprised the entire female population on campus hasn't fallen for his charms yet.”

“Sure,” Don't Yi said. “So there's no problem, actually, if Cheng Xiaoshi likes you, and you like him back, and even though you say you're not dating, because if you think about it, you kind of already are.”

He was right, which was exactly why Lu Guang didn't want to have this conversation with anyone but Dong Yi, even though Dong Yi personally looked like he regretted not joining the rest to play games. “Is that really it? Is it that simple?”

“Why can't it be?”

“I don't know,” he said. For a moment, his own question caught him off guard. “I guess I was imagining something different, something more.” A change in the atmosphere, perhaps. A shift in his way of thinking, perhaps. But the library air remained cold, and his thoughts, though in initial disarray, had settled itself to their usual calm. When he thought of Cheng Xiaoshi, nothing was rosy or newly colored. When he thought of Cheng Xiaoshi, he thought of basketball and the orange sunset, fresh coffee cups and animated laughter, a steadfast presence by his side that he always knew, even without looking, was wholly Cheng Xiaoshi.

Dong Yi’s expression softened in understanding. “Maybe you've been reading too much, so your expectations are a bit skewed.”

“Maybe.” Lu Guang brushed his hands over the book laid on the table now. It was a school textbook, not one of his novels or manhua, but his mind was elsewhere. When he dreamed, there were no vivid, drawn out scenes, but impressions of something otherworldly and indescribable and rooted in emotion. Nothing dramatic, in spite of what Dong Yi was implying. In fact, last night, he dreamt he watched Cheng Xiaoshi struggle to fit an entire potato chip into his mouth, and woke up wondering if this was the great romance people wrote books about.

“But,” interjected Dong Yi. “If you are expecting something different, something more, you should do it. Rather than waiting for it.”

“Like what?” asked Lu Guang. “Have sex?” He was truthfully still in the midst of figuring out whether the dream was meant to be a build up to something as grandeur as a sexual fantasy, recalling still the obscene way Cheng Xiaoshi’s lips stretched around the food he tried fitting into his mouth. He doubted this theory, in the end; dream Lu Guang had stopped Cheng Xiaoshi before he would successfully choke himself, and then halved the chip for them to both eat. Cheng Xiaoshi had complained about ruining its perfect shape until he realized Lu Guang had split the chip cleanly into two. He had looked at him with such wonder then, in a way that made blood rush up to Lu Guang’s face and his heart crawl to his throat. Idly, Lu Guang wondered what this said about him, that he could somehow dramatize what was objectively an uneventful dream.

“Um, I mean, if you want to,” Dong Yi agreed awkwardly. “But you can probably start with kissing? If you haven’t done that yet? Or you know, a date. Though you said you’ve been dating… or non-dating? Does that mean you’ve never actually gone on a date before?”

“We haven’t,” Lu Guang said, surprised at his own delayed realization of this fact. They were dating, but have never even gone on a date. He thought he would feel ashamed at such an oversight, but instead he found himself renewed with resolve, a Cheng Xiaoshi-shaped problem set out before him he was capable of solving. “Not yet.”

Dong Yi gave him a long look before saying, “Don’t take this the wrong way, but is this a gay thing? Is that why I don’t get it?”

↻

Perhaps it was a gay thing. Lu Guang, who had only ever dated women before, had no reference. Cheng Xiaoshi, who had also only ever dated women, likely wouldn’t be able to answer the question either. But man or not, there was only one way to approach the matter of dating, and it was with utmost effort. Generally, Lu Guang never did anything by halves, but what made it all gay, as Dong Yi put it, was that fundamentally, Lu Guang still played favorites, and it was no secret that he liked Cheng Xiaoshi best. He knew no one faulted him for his indulgence, the same way no one would fault the students who fed the campus cat despite warnings not to. Or student, in particular. But maybe that was Lu Guang’s own indulgence coming into play once more. Sincerity was hard to dissuade. Cheng Xiaoshi’s, especially, when it was his entire being.

Lu Guang had planned for a nice dinner, a fancy restaurant that his monthly allowance and reasonable savings barely made it to, promising fantastic claypot rice and an ambiance befitting a first date. He got a reservation and endured a patiently awkward conversation with the waiter in charge of managing the bookings via call in case it would be unexpectedly full when they’d get there, and dug through his closet for his best clothes to wear before heading out to meet Cheng Xiaoshi in the late afternoon, to pick him up from the court. Just to be safe, he packed an extra set of clothes that would fit Cheng Xiaoshi nicely, to suit the occasion of what they would be doing later tonight.

By the time Lu Guang arrived, Cheng Xiaoshi was wrapping up his game with his friends. Still, Lu Guang could tell, even without saying anything, that discontentment lined Cheng Xiaoshi’s shoulders, thrummed through his body, not out of a bad time, but the lack of time, left with energy to burn and no outlet for it when his friends needed to leave. Sure enough, after he waved them goodbye and Lu Guang exchanged their courteous nods of acknowledgement, he turned to him and said, “Play with me?”

He did like playing with Cheng Xiaoshi, regardless of how infrequently he did it. So every time Cheng Xiaoshi would ask, Lu Guang caved in. But now he hesitated, because it had not been his plans for today, which he had already painstakingly worked out. “Cheng Xiaoshi, we do have something later…”

“Which is later, not now,” Cheng Xiaoshi challenged. “C’mon, I’m not asking for much. Just one game! It won’t take long, and I won’t tire you out too much. Promise. Please?”

Lu Guang glanced at his watch. They had little more than over an hour before the reservation. The restaurant was a maximum ten minutes walk from the university. Cheng Xiaoshi could get changed in five minutes, if he was in a hurry. They had enough time for a game or two, and if Lu Guang could build up Cheng Xiaoshi’s appetite well from all the sports, he would enjoy the food twice as much. It was not a bad pivot in strategy.

But even then, even if he wasn’t, there could have only ever been one answer to Cheng Xiaoshi’s request. “Okay.”

He never won when he played against Cheng Xiaoshi, which was fine, because they always won when they played together. Cheng Xiaoshi was competitive by nature, so Lu Guang asked, once, if that was why he liked doing this with him; because victory was certain. But that hadn’t been it, Cheng Xiaoshi said. What he was winning was Lu Guang’s trust. It was the sweetest victory he could ask for. How could anyone not fall for Cheng Xiaoshi, when he said things like that?

When they finished, time had lost itself. They had played more than one game; in fact, Lu Guang lost count after the third round. The sun had long set, and they were running late to their reservation. Lu Guang was too hurried to even be mad. He grabbed Cheng Xiaoshi by the wrist and they sprinted to the restaurant, as if their muscles weren’t weary, their breathing wasn’t heavy, their clothes damp with sweat. Cheng Xiaoshi could only laugh and let Lu Guang drag him down the streets. He was in a good mood, undeterred by Lu Guang’s panic, even when the waiter told them, unfortunately, the reservation was forfeited because they came too late, and besides, they weren’t dressed appropriately for the occasion.

“Shit,” Lu Guang could only say, as if it only dawned on him just then that he wrinkled the outfit he meticulously planned for the day. What a waste of a purposefully chosen white turtleneck, dress shorts, and a leather jacket. But Cheng Xiaoshi, who was in a secondhand sleeveless tee and ugly red shorts, still looked dazzling.

“C’mon,” Cheng Xiaoshi told Lu Guang, tugging him away. He sounded amused by the entire ordeal, rather than concerned. Trust him to be unflappable during the times when Lu Guang wavered. “I’m starving.”

They walked another block and ended up in the first food cart they saw, selling lamb skewers that didn’t look anything special but had the kind of aroma that had their mouths watering. Cheng Xiaoshi tore into the meat, ripping it easily with his teeth, and despite the soreness straining his legs, Lu Guang had given the only one seat the cart had for Cheng Xiaoshi to sit. A bit of sauce splattered on Lu Guang’s shorts. He would have mourned the loss of its pristine state, but it was already far too late for that. The smoke curled around them, adding to the humidity of the atmosphere, and Lu Guang felt sticky all over. The streetlight they stood near flickered ominously, and he could distantly hear the lively noise of the night from the area where they had just come from, where they should’ve been at, the fancy restaurant surrounded by enticing rows of shops and beautiful lights. They should’ve been there, basking in the romance of it all, and Lu Guang felt his mood sullen at his blatant shortcomings. But Cheng Xiaoshi seemed happy anyway.

“Is this your treat?” Cheng Xiaoshi asked around a mouthful of meat.

“Yeah,” Lu Guang answered, unable to keep his forlorn tone at bay. “The restaurant would’ve been too, if we ended up there.”

“Hmm.” Cheng Xiaoshi swallowed and put the skewer stick down. He’d eaten about five and called the food cart owner up requesting for a sixth, because it was Lu Guang’s treat. “You were dressed really nicely today.”

Past tense. Lu Guang did not know if the word choice was intentional. “Thanks.”

“You spoil me a lot,” Cheng Xiaoshi continued thoughtfully, as Lu Guang handed over the total payment to the owner because he knew Cheng Xiaoshi already had his fill, even without saying anything. “It’s like you like me or something.”

“I do.”

Cheng Xiaoshi was distracted, reaching for the bottle of sweet bean sauce. “Really now.”

Lu Guang was staring at the hem of Cheng Xiaoshi’s shorts. True to their name, they were short, perhaps shorter than Lu Guang believed shorts were supposed to be, and had ridden up to a tantalizing angle in a way that made Lu Guang wonder who was the idiot who decided Cheng Xiaoshi had to own and wear those shorts, only to realize it was him. He had gifted Cheng Xiaoshi those shorts. Why, he would ask his past self, except his present self knew the answer: “You’re my boyfriend, after all.”

“Boyfriend?” That seemed to get Cheng Xiaoshi’s attention. His ears visibly twitched, and he looked like he wasn’t sure if he heard Lu Guang right, even though Lu Guang always spoke at a reasonable volume that meant he could always be heard, and the streets were relatively quiet save for the sizzling of meat, the occasional car that passed by, the faint hum of noise from the busier streets, far away from where they were. “Not fake boyfriend?”

“This seems pretty real to me,” Lu Guang said, like an observation. For all of Cheng Xiaoshi’s need for things to be spelled out, he himself was not as direct, which was fine; Lu Guang knew how to be. “And it’s not like I don’t know how you feel about me. You think I’m attractive. You want to spend all your time with me. You would even rather pretend that I’m your boyfriend than think of another polite but creative way to turn a girl down. I even considered that you kept on doing that in part because you didn’t know how to properly ask me out.”

Cheng Xiaoshi’s face had been turning increasingly more and more crimson with each thing Lu Guang listed. “I didn’t think I was that bad.”

“You’re not. You’re fine,” Lu Guang said. He suppressed a sigh. “I’m the one who messed up a perfectly normal restaurant date.”

“What?” Cheng Xiaoshi made a face, pulled in concern. “Hey, not that I don’t appreciate it, but I don’t need to go to some fancy yummy place to have a good or special time with you,” he said. “It’s not the location that makes it important, it’s you.”

To keep his hands busy, Lu Guang began putting away their sticks and plates, tossing them into the trash bin hooked to the side of the cart. He hoped that under the dim light provided to them, his blush was not evident. “When you say things like that, how can I not know that you have feelings for me?”

“Lu Guang, you don’t have to rub it in like that.”

“I’m not,” he said, but there was that tint of smugness still, barely smothered. In a sea of suitors who clamored for even a bit of Cheng Xiaoshi’s affection, Cheng Xiaoshi gave it to Lu Guang freely. “This date still could’ve gone better.”

“Maybe,” Cheng Xiaoshi considered after a beat. He licked his lips absentmindedly. “Maybe we could cap it off with something special.”

They bid the owner thanks and farewell before beginning their walk. They ambled leisurely, neither taking the lead when they did not know how to spend the rest of the night, only knowing that it could not end like this. Lu Guang, at least, did not want it to end, or at least not like this. “Like what?”

He thought that Cheng Xiaoshi was going to say that they should kiss; it was the logical progression of events, what would cement things between them, perhaps, if they hadn't been certain enough of them, and Lu Guang thought it because he wanted it. Something different. Something more.

But instead, Cheng Xiaoshi said, “Do you want to get ice cream after this?”

The anticipation coiling around Lu Guang’s stomach loosened, but he did not want to think of it as disappointment. It was just as well. Cheng Xiaoshi said so himself; this was not the kind of thing he dove headfirst into, in spite of his character, what he was normally inclined to do. He exercised caution during times Lu Guang wanted to be reckless; in this way, he supposed, this was what made them complement, and he could take solace in that. “Sure.”

“Don’t worry, we won’t just get something from a convenience store. I know a good ice cream parlor that’s still open at this hour,” Cheng Xiaoshi reassured him, misunderstanding Lu Guang’s primary concern. “How do you feel about strawberry? They say that’s the flavor of romance.”

“I don’t think that’s what people say,” Lu Guang said. “The flavor of strawberry is strawberry.”

Still, when they split the ice cream, they only had one spoon available. Cheng Xiaoshi said, “Look, it’s like we’re going to have an indirect kiss,” and Lu Guang did not know if he said that to be obnoxious, or to goad Lu Guang into something, but it worked, because Lu Guang rolled his eyes, tired of holding back, and leaned forward to kiss Cheng Xiaoshi at last. Lu Guang’s hands moved on their own accord, running themselves through the firm muscle of Cheng Xiaoshi’s arms before cupping the back of his head, right where he tangled his fingers in the tuft of Cheng Xiaoshi’s thick hair, and Cheng Xiaoshi laughed, like he knew exactly what Lu Guang was doing, but he kissed back with just as much enthusiasm, and Lu Guang understood quite well now, what exactly romance tasted like, a sweet, addicting thing. It was enough for Lu Guang to forgive Cheng Xiaoshi for stepping on his foot once again.