Chapter 80 — Then I waited long enough
Yu Fan stayed frozen, taking every word Chen Jingshen had just said and breaking it apart syllable by syllable, chewing it in his head again and again. He felt a little dazed, short of breath, his chest rising and falling so lightly it was barely there.
Everything Chen Jingshen described were things he himself had done. Which meant the “boyfriend” in Chen Jingshen’s mouth was…
Yu Fan stared blankly, the ache about to spill over suddenly pulling back, then the two characters for “break up” stabbed him all over again.
If he could have said those words out loud, he would not have deleted Chen Jingshen on WeChat without a word back then. That day he cut everyone else off cleanly. Only when he opened Chen Jingshen’s chat did he stare for a long, long time. He watched call after voice call flash up and go dark, watched the messages of “Where are you?” “Yu Fan” pile up. He dragged it out for a day and a night, and only when the high-speed train pulled into the station, only when he lifted his bag to step off, did his finger finally press delete.
Six years later the words still would not come. They were stuck in his throat.
And also…
Yu Fan called softly, “Chen Jingshen,” baffled and lost. “How did you know I never went back?”
Chen Jingshen did not speak. Yu Fan thought of something and his grip on Chen Jingshen’s shirt tightened again, his knuckles all white. He looked straight into Chen Jingshen’s eyes. He already had a faint answer but still could not believe it. He forced the question out. “Your friend said you went to see your boyfriend every holiday. Chen Jingshen, who did you go see?”
Silence.
Where should he even start?
Should he say that in their senior year he went to that old building four or five times a week, did problems outside, moved on when security shooed him away?
Should he say that after graduation he left his contact info with every unit on every floor of that building, asking them to call if they saw the neighbor come back?
Or should he say that in these years he visited every single campus Yu Fan had circled for himself, knew Yu Fan’s favorite school better than his own Jiang University, and then, when that failed, he combed the nearest cities and towns one by one, dove into the sea with his head down for a very long time, never even brushing the shadow of a needle?
When he was doing it, it had felt like nothing. To say it out loud now felt too heavy. The black room stayed quiet for a long time, long enough that Yu Fan was about to prod him to speak. Then Chen Jingshen finally opened his mouth.
“I went to look for you,” Chen Jingshen said. “I was waiting for you.”
The guess, made solid, clenched Yu Fan’s heart in Chen Jingshen’s hand. It turned sour and bitter on the spot.
He had left without a word, told no one. Where was Chen Jingshen supposed to look?
Yu Fan no longer had the strength to hold on to anything. He let go and his hand fell to his side. In the dark he called, “Chen Jingshen.”
“Mm.”
“You are an idiot.” Yu Fan’s voice shook.
“Then take me as one.” Chen Jingshen pinched his neck and bent to kiss him, kissing into dampness and salt.
He braced his fingers under Yu Fan’s jaw, tilted his face up to meet his own. He kissed deep, teasing Yu Fan’s tongue and that sharp canine, drawing out a string of hot, close sounds. Yu Fan went limp under it, swallowing helplessly in shame until his own heartbeat almost suffocated him.
They pressed together in the narrow sofa, trading warmth, leaning into each other against the cool edge of the typhoon night.
At last Chen Jingshen let him go. He used a fingertip to wipe the saliva from Yu Fan’s mouth, set his brow against Yu Fan’s and asked again, who knew how many times, “Have you been well?”
Wrapped in alcohol and the surge of feeling, Yu Fan rasped, “No.”
Chen Jingshen bent and kissed him again, voice low against a scatter of soft touches. “All these years, did you think of me?”
Yu Fan could only mumble a blurred “yeah,” then nod. He had. Every day. Until it hurt everywhere. He dreamed about him too. He had not planned to go back to studying, but he flipped to the notes Chen Jingshen had made for him and kept going anyway. He would search for the school Chen Jingshen wanted, but never dared search his name.
“Do you want to break up with me?”
Yu Fan shut his eyes in pain and spoke against his mouth. “I do not want to.”
As soon as he said it, his fringe was pushed back. Chen Jingshen kissed his eyelids, the tip of his nose, then his lips again.
Dust settled. Chen Jingshen’s voice was steady, his eyes stinging. He made a soft sound and said, “Then I waited long enough.”
Yu Fan had drunk, so his mind was clear enough but his body had no strength at all. Even when Chen Jingshen slid a hand under his shirt and pressed his warm palm to his stomach, his only reaction was a shiver and a weak, perfunctory bite to Chen Jingshen’s lip.
“Does your stomach hurt after drinking?” Chen Jingshen asked.
Everywhere their skin touched went numb, the sensation spreading outward. Yu Fan caught his wrist to push him away, then remembered how cold those fingers had been when they were around his throat a minute ago.
He shook his head and asked, “How long were you standing outside my door?”
“Not long. Three or four hours.” As soon as he said it, the wind and rain outside rose in a wild burst, right on cue.
Yu Fan was speechless for a beat. He frowned. “You came and did not tell me?”
“You did not accept my friend request.”
“You could not call?” Yu Fan balled a fist and punched, strengthless, at the hand inside his shirt. “Get up.”
The lights snapped on. The brightness stung his eyes and he shut them once against the dryness, then fully woke. Afterthought hit, and with it a wash of embarrassment.
Fine for before, but in his twenties and he had cried like that…
He was never drinking again.
Feeling the puffiness of his eyes, Yu Fan kept his head down, turned on the AC, skirted around Chen Jingshen, and rummaged in the wardrobe. He pulled out a T-shirt he had bought in an oversized fit to sleep in and tossed it over his shoulder without looking back. “See if it fits. Towel and toothbrush are in the bathroom cabinet.”
“Okay.” Behind him came, “Do you have a fridge?”
Yu Fan faced the wardrobe and pointed back. “There.”
Chen Jingshen did something for a while, a series of soft clinks and clatters. Yu Fan stood there rigidly and waited, patience fraying. At last the bathroom door clicked shut.
He exhaled. He had only just turned when the door creaked open again. His nerves jumped and he spun back to face the wardrobe.
“Which side is the hot water?”
“Left.”
“Where do I throw the dirty clothes?”
“Washing machine. Outside.”
“Do you have slippers?”
“No. Wash barefoot.”
“I—”
“Chen Jingshen, why are you such a hassle?” Yu Fan ground out.
“Last one.” Chen Jingshen looked at the back turned to him. “Where do I sleep after I shower?”
“…”
“What kind of question is that. The sofa…” Yu Fan stared at the clothes in front of him and finished, deadpan, “Think it can fit you? Go upstairs and sleep.”
The bathroom door shut. Yu Fan went for his phone on the sofa. It had been buzzing non-stop under his hand just now. All those messages were from Wang Yue and the others reporting they had gotten home.
He thumbed a perfunctory reply and his gaze drifted to the sofa in all its chaos.
His ears went hot again. He rubbed his face, shoved everything into some rough order, and headed upstairs.
On the way, before the alcohol finished scrambling his head, he took a certain photo off the black felt board and slipped it into the cabinet.
When Chen Jingshen came out, the place was quiet.
He went up softly. At the last step he instinctively hunched a little, then slowly straightened. The ceiling was so low he could feel his hair nearly brushing it.
It was even smaller up here, and homier than downstairs. Two monitors sat on the desk, one big and one small, their power lights still on, the kind of habit that came from never shutting them down. A black lamp. The camera and lenses were tucked neatly in a glass case. Beside it hung that simple strip of black felt, a grid of photos pegged along thin strings.
The bed took up most of the floor, a two-meter slab dressed in deep blue. Someone was balled up under the covers with his back to the door, sleeping on the right side and leaving half the bed free.
When the mattress dipped deep at his side, Yu Fan’s thumb faltered on his phone screen, then kept scrolling.
“Yu Fan,” said the man behind him.
“Say it.”
No words followed. Fingers slid into his hair and mussed it twice.
“If you do not want your hand, keep going,” Yu Fan said.
The hair was released. A fingertip brushed his ear. Yu Fan set his phone down and finally lost it. He turned back. “Chen Jingshen, you are so—”
“Close your eyes.”
He did it on instinct. His voice and his movement cut off at once.
A cold towel lay over his eyelids and he flinched, his fingers curling tight.
“Keep it there a while or you will wake up swollen,” Chen Jingshen said.
“…Oh.”
He had never done anything like this. Without sight, he lay flat on his back with his hands folded over his stomach, looking absurdly serene.
Chen Jingshen studied the pose for a bit, palm resting on the towel, then could not help turning his face aside.
“Chen Jingshen?” Yu Fan frowned, sharp as ever. “What are you laughing at?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing, my a**.” Yu Fan pushed at his wrist. “Let go. I—”
A mouth found his, light. Yu Fan went still and lost his words.
“Do you think this place is small?” Chen Jingshen asked, eyes lowered, studying him carefully. “If I lift my head, I am going to hit the ceiling.”
“I live here, not you,” Yu Fan said, hard as stone.
“But I am here now.”
“…”
The words if that is the case then get out at dawn made a few loops on his tongue and would not come out. Then the man beside him said, “Still, this place looks familiar.”
Yu Fan was confused. “Familiar how?”
“Do you feel,” Chen Jingshen stated, perfectly even, “like it is a bit like my old room—”
Yu Fan slapped a palm over his mouth and shoved the word “like” down his throat.
“One more word,” he said, the tips of his ears burning red outside his hair, his voice colder than a typhoon front, “and you are gone at daybreak.”
The next day Wang Yue decided the boy at her studio was acting even stranger than usual.
Mask still on, hair even messier than normal, eyes a little puffy.
Most key, she happened to be heading downstairs at noon and heard him on the phone.
“I am at work. You could not just text me?… Forgot. I will accept you now. You are so annoying, Chen Jingshen.”
“Charger? Isn’t there one on my nightstand?”
Yu Fan raked a hand through his hair and tipped his chair back, thinking. “Try the computer cabinet. Or the glass case.”
There were the sounds of someone getting out of bed and moving around. Yu Fan took the chance to shut his eyes for a quick doze.
A cabinet door slid open and hit a wire in him. His eyes snapped open. “Hold on, do not touch the first computer cabinet!”
Silence on the other end.
Chen Jingshen stared at the photo that had been stuffed in there last night and lifted it between his fingers for a look. “I already touched it.”
“…”
Beep.
Yu Fan hung up.
At lunch the mask finally came off. Wang Yue stared at his split lip and his funeral-march expression and could not help asking, “Fan-bao, are you okay?”
“Fine,” Yu Fan said, dead inside.
His phone buzzed on the table. Yu Fan glanced down.
[s would like to add you as a friend. Note: Found the charger.]
The name was still the same, but the avatar had become a white blur in an amusement park.
It was the photo of Chen Jingshen Yu Fan had hidden away for years.
Wang Yue had been about to tell him he looked pale and should eat more. She looked up just in time to see Yu Fan holding his phone, face flaming red, and snap. He broke his disposable chopsticks clean in two.
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