Confession in the morning
Morning light streamed through the gaps in the curtains, slanting into the room and casting a bright band of light on the wooden floor. Within this band of light, dust motes slowly swirled and settled.
Fang Chi woke up.
The moment consciousness returned, everything from last night flooded back like a tide—Xing Jiayan's photo, the heavy questioning, the confessional whispers, and that… kiss.
His cheeks instantly flushed again, and his heart began to race uncontrollably. He lay there stiffly, afraid to move, but his senses became unusually acute in the darkness.
I could hear steady, long breathing sounds beside me.
Xing Jiayan is still asleep.
Fang Chi turned his head very, very slowly, looking at the person beside him in the dim light. Xing Jiayan was lying on his side, facing him. Asleep, he had lost all his sharpness and angularity, his brows relaxed, his long eyelashes casting a small, quiet shadow beneath his eyes, his lips slightly pursed, making him look somewhat harmless.
This person was completely different from the one who had pressed him relentlessly and spoken sharply last night, but who had ultimately kissed him with a tenderness that almost overwhelmed him.
Fang Chi's gaze involuntarily fell on those lips. The memory of the touch became vivid—soft, slightly cool, carrying an irresistible firmness and cherished feeling. His ears turned bright red, and he hurriedly looked away, yet couldn't help but steal glances at them.
Xing Jiayan was wearing pajamas of the same style but a different color as his own, with one button undone at the collar, revealing his clearly defined collarbone. His arm was casually draped outside the blanket, his wrists showing distinct knuckles.
Fang Chi suddenly remembered that in his panic last night, he seemed to have tightly gripped the fabric of the other man's clothes. He subconsciously curled his fingers, as if the soft touch of the fabric still lingered on his fingertips, along with the warmth of the other man's chest and the heartbeat that he could feel through the fabric.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
It was like a silent echo.
"I can't think about it anymore." Fang Chi took a deep breath, carefully lifted a corner of the blanket, and tried to get up without waking the other person. The moment her feet touched the cold floor, a sleepy, muffled voice came from behind her.
"...What time is it?"
Fang Chi stiffened, remaining half-asleep, and replied dryly without turning around, "It's still early. You can continue sleeping."
There was a rustling sound behind him, and Xing Jiayan seemed to sit up as well. Fang Chi could feel his gaze on his back, carrying the languor of someone who had just woken up and a certain focus.
"Where to?" Xing Jiayan asked, his voice a little hoarse than usual.
"...Go home. Grab some things." Fang Chi made up a flimsy excuse, wanting nothing more than to leave this space that was making his heart race. He didn't even dare to look back.
A warm hand suddenly reached out from behind and gently grasped his wrist, which was resting against the edge of the bed and was slightly cold.
Fang Chi trembled all over.
"Fang Chi." Xing Jiayan's voice was very close, right behind his ear. There was no coercion, no teasing, just a calm call of his name, yet it made Fang Chi's heart skip a beat.
"Turn around," Xing Jiayan said, his tone gentle, yet still carrying an air of unquestionable authority.
Fang Chi bit her lower lip, struggled internally for a moment, and finally slowly, little by little, turned around.
Their eyes met.
In the morning light, Xing Jiayan's eyes weren't as deep and sharp as usual; instead, they were veiled with a hazy mist, making him look softer than his actual age. He quietly looked at Fang Chi, his gaze slowly sliding from his eyes over his flushed cheeks, finally settling on his slightly pursed, still somewhat swollen lips.
Fang Chi felt like she was about to spontaneously combust under his gaze. She tried to pull her hand away, but he held it even tighter.
“What happened last night,” Xing Jiayan began, his thumb unconsciously stroking the delicate skin on the inside of his wrist, “wasn’t an impulsive act.”
Fang Chi's heart started beating even faster.
“It’s not because you look like my brother, or anything like that.” Xing Jiayan looked at him, her eyes clear and earnest. “It’s because you are Fang Chi.”
He paused, seemingly considering his words.
“Perhaps I didn’t explain myself clearly enough,” he frowned slightly, his expression revealing a rare, youthful distress. “What I mean is, I like you. I only like you.”
Such straightforward words were like a pebble thrown into Fang Chi's already turbulent heart, stirring up even bigger waves. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. Last night's kiss was confirmation, an answer, but this clear "I like you" felt like the most formal stamp on that answer.
"I..." Fang Chi's voice was barely audible, like a mosquito's hum, "I know."
"Know what?" Xing Jiayan raised an eyebrow, deliberately pressing for an answer, but a faint smile appeared in his eyes.
Fang Chi glared at him, embarrassed and annoyed, and tried to pull her hand away forcefully: "I know you didn't act on impulse! Okay, okay!"
Xing Jiayan chuckled softly and finally released his hand, but the smile spread to his eyes. He watched Fang Chi quickly withdraw his hand, his cheeks flushed but trying to remain calm, and felt a corner of his heart soften completely.
"Alright, I'm not teasing you anymore." He threw off the covers and got out of bed, stretching his shoulders which were a little stiff from sleeping. "Weren't you going home to get something? I'll take you."
"No need!" Fang Chi immediately refused, quickly putting on his coat. "I can go back by myself."
"It's on my way." Xing Jiayan had already changed her clothes quickly. She walked to the door, turned back to look at him, and said matter-of-factly, "Or are you afraid my mom will see you and ask all sorts of questions?"
Fang Chi choked for a moment after being hit where it hurt. He really didn't know how to face Xing's mother, who was both enthusiastic and seemed quite insightful.
In the end, the two of them went downstairs quietly, one after the other. It was still early, and Xing's parents hadn't gotten up yet. Fang Chi practically tiptoed out the door, and only after stepping into the cool morning breeze did he let out a long sigh of relief.
Xing Jiayan followed behind him, finding his guilty look both amusing and endearing.
The walk to Fang Chi's apartment wasn't far. The two walked side by side in silence. The streets were quiet in the early morning, save for the rustling of sanitation workers sweeping and the occasional early morning bus. The air carried a faint scent of fallen leaves and dust.
A strange sense of calm spread between them. There was no fierce conflict or emotional turmoil from yesterday, nor the earlier estrangement and probing; only a tranquility after the dust had settled.
When they reached the apartment building, Fang Chi stopped and said in a low voice, "I'm going up."
"Mm," Xing Jiayan responded, but did not leave.
Fang Chi looked up at him.
"Final exams are next week," Xing Jiayan suddenly said.
"I know," Fang Chi nodded. This was something that had been on his schedule for a long time.
"Prepare well." Xing Jiayan looked at him calmly. "Don't think about anything else."
Fang Chi understood what he meant. The doubts about the "shadow" and the "substitute" had not completely dissipated after last night and this morning, but they had indeed been suppressed by something more solid.
"You too," Fang Chi replied softly, then paused and added, "Is your leg alright?"
Xing Jiayan paused for a moment, then his lips curled into a genuine, untroubled smile. "Concerned about me?"
Fang Chi's ears burned from his laughter, and she turned around and walked into the building in an annoyed tone: "Who cares about you! I'm afraid you'll hold me back!"
Xing Jiayan watched his retreating figure, a soft laugh echoing in his chest. "Fang Chi," he called out.
Fang Chi stopped at the entrance of the stairwell without turning around.
"After the final exams," Xing Jiayan's voice was clear and steady in the morning air, "I have something to tell you."
Fang Chi's heart tightened inexplicably. He could almost guess what Xing Jiayan was going to say, about the future, about a clearer definition of their relationship.
He didn't respond, but nodded almost imperceptibly, and then strode into the stairwell.
Only after the footsteps disappeared into the stairwell did Xing Jiayan slowly suppress his smile. He looked up at the small window of Fang Chi's apartment, his gaze deep and thoughtful.
Some things need to be said in a more formal and sober setting.
Some beginnings also need a clear boundary marker.
The end of the semester is a good point to consider.
He turned and walked towards his home, his steps steady and powerful. The morning light cast a long shadow of him across the empty street, as if also projecting it towards a clearly discernible future.
Upstairs, Fang Chi leaned against the cold security door, listening to the footsteps fading away downstairs. He raised his hand and gently touched his lips with his fingertips.
The warmth and touch of last night seemed to linger there.
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