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Shao Long's first instinct was to glare - some sort of retribution typically given to strangers who don't know your name, especially not in bustling streets. However, the words die in his throat, as he turned his eyes to look at who's bumped into his shoulder, it's unfortunately the bastard, Charles.
It is common experience for international students to sometimes meet fellow schoolmates while on vacation, and this encounter wouldn't mean too much for Shao Long if he had had a pleasant day - which he didn't have.
His hair had a few strands out of place from his braid, his clothes were terribly plain as the colours clashed, and worst of all, one of his shoelaces had gone loose. Stepped on previously by another passerby, he was searching for an open spot to properly tidy himself up. Yet, the necessary would have to wait, for his mind had decided to focus its attention on some kid who didn't deserve it honestly.
He recognised that familiar face and expression. The kind of fake that's worth punching if Shao Long was the physically reactive type, which he wasn't. He had some sort of composure and decorum in his presentation, important for the heir of a business tycoon.
Same stupid semi-slicked back hair, the same eyes that somehow made those blue irises look friendly than they actually were...
For one suspended second, neither of them spoke.
Shao Long pulled Charles by his jacket sleeve with some strength to guide him to some secluded corner, and surprisingly, he didn't need to use force at all, because that guy simply followed along. And when they reached a somewhat free area where some friends were lingering at the other side of, Charles started first. "You really don't know how to let things go.."
Shao Long shoved his hands into his coat pockets, rolling his eyes at that baseless statement.
"You still walk into people like some blind giraffe," he replies flatly. "You really don't know how to watch your way.."
Charles tilted his head, and that insufferable half-smile was there, playing at the corner of his lips. "Are you mocking me right now? Or is this just your default state of being unpleasant?"
Shao Long simply scoffed, as he turned away dismissively. He came to a small realisation he had wasted time on his encounter. Should've just left this dumb-dumb in the streets. The thought of Charles turning around to find for the stranger he'd bumped into to offer an apology, but failing to do so as Shao Long's already walked off was kind of hilarious.
Nevertheless, his shoelace was still loose, his hair was still a little messy, and the evening was rapidly growing louder. There was a platform nearby that was empty - a raised ledge meant for some sort of public art installation that never materialised. Shao Long approached it, stepping one foot up onto the elevated surface.
He bent down slightly to undo the tangled knot of his shoelace, when he felt some presence leaning near.
Charles had followed him (of course he had), and now he stood there with his head probably tilted at a ridiculous angle watching Shao Long's fingers with focused attention.
"Can I help you?" Shao Long muttered, not looking up. He didn't need to curse his day even more. Wasted time was already enough to become a short-lived regret.
There was no answer, so Shao Long's fingers moved faster, determined to finish and escape.
"You know," Charles finally answered, voice conversational as though they were close and not two people who'd spent entire semesters pretending the other didn't exist, "that's going to come undone again in like, fifteen minutes."
Shao Long's hands stilled. "What?"
"The way you're tying your shoelace." Charles gestured vaguely at Shao Long's shoes. "The way you tied it.. The tension ratio is completely off. You might as well just trip and embarrass yourself."
Shao Long straightened up fast, nearly stumbling backward off the platform. His shoulder blades hit the wall behind him. When had Charles gotten that close?
He raised his voice, telling the other off to mind his personal space. Charles didn't flinch, instead, he lifted one finger deliberately to point at Shao Long's half-finished shoelace.
The crowd hummed in the distance. And somewhere behind Charles, the group of friends laughed at whatever they found was comedic. Shao Long's heart was doing that treacherous thing again, with the sudden uneven pulses in between light breaths. He should really get this checked out. Wouldn't want to die young when you've got money unspent.
Charles noticed Shao Long's ears getting red. Was it from the cold?
Shao Long crossed his arms, defensive. "You shouldn't put jinxes on people. I'm not going to trip. I've walked on worse streets than this with worse shoes than these. I'm assured."
Charles only gave a slight nod, that infuriating half-smile still lingering on his face. Then, he said something that caught the latter completely off guard. Charles had thanked him.
Shao Long blinked utterly confused. "For what...?"
"For bumping into me." Charles shrugged, averting his gaze to look at the architecture around them. "It's kinda great being able to meet a familiar face in the street. Even though I'd rather meet anyone else, to be honest.."
"Wow."
"But, now that I'm faced with the unwanted.." He paused, shifting his eyes to look at Shao Long. "It's more pleasant than expected."
Shao Long stared at him for a moment longer than what was appropriate for whatever they were. Then, he scoffed, shaking his head. "You should apologise instead. For bumping into me, and for wasting my time."
Charles opened his mouth to disagree, since Shao Long was the one who had grabbed his sleeve and dragged him into a corner. He wanted to remind this supposed selectively demented guy that he was the one who had escalated this from a two-second shoulder bump into a full conversation. However, he closed his mouth again.
It wasn't worth it.
He gave a small, almost imperceptible nod then turned away. His hair caught the evening light as he walked off, disappearing into the crowd toward some tourist destination Shao Long didn't care to know about.
Shao Long exhaled slowly as he turned the opposite direction, found a public restroom nearby, and spent an embarrassing amount of time fixing his braid and straightening his collar in the mirror. His shoelace was retied properly - out of spite.
-----
Twelve days had passed since that encounter.
It was a random Tuesday evening, and as usual, he was alone in his apartment, standing by the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the Shanghai skyline. The skyscraper forests glittered below, thousands of lights flickering across the Huangpu River. The streets never went quiet here. Even at this hour, horns blared and distant music pulsed from somewhere down below.
Yet, none of it could hold his attention.
His eyes kept drifting to the small cardboard box on his kitchen island. It had been handed to him earlier by one of the guards on duty.
The box had good reason to be suspicious. There was no return address on it, only his name written in neat handwriting as though the sender knew him well enough.
He approached the box slowly, like it might explode. With his family's connections and with the kind of enemies his father had made over the years, a murder scheme or kidnapping attempt wasn't entirely off the table.
He pulled the tape off carefully, then opened the box.
Inside, was a pair of earmuffs that were dark gray. Next to it, folded neatly, was a handwritten note. It appeared the sender had been concerned about him 'freezing his ears to death' as he 'still had school next month.' There were no signatures or initials that could confirm the sender, but Shao Long knew.
For the first time throughout his entire time being back in his home country - through all the business dinners and lonely nights and crowded streets that felt emptier than they should - Shao Long smiled.
Nobody saw it.
Not the guards outside his door. Not the staff downstairs. Not his father who was three cities away and never looked closely anyway. Certainly not the guy who was weirdly sweet sometimes. Not the guy whose name was Charles.
Shao Long picked up the earmuffs, turned them over in his hands and didn't wonder whether Charles had chosen the colour to match his coat. He put them on anyway, just to test if they fit, and of perfect fit they were.