“Chin Mae, can you hear me?”

A voice reached me through layers of noise.

At first, I couldn’t understand the words. Everything was too loud—the clink of cups, chairs scraping the floor, the coffee grinder screaming behind the counter. Every sound drilled straight through my skull.

I groaned and turned my head away.

“Chin Mae?”

That voice again.

Closer. Familiar.

I forced my eyes open.

The ceiling came first, blurred by harsh light. Then Cheng’s face slowly sharpened above me.

He was bent over me, too close to hide the panic in his expression, one hand cupping my face.

I’d never seen him look that frightened. “Hey. Are you okay?”

His other hand rested lightly over my chest. His fingers felt freezing even through my clothes.

“Can you move?”

I stared at him for a few seconds, trying to remember where I was.

Costa. Tea.

His neck. That smell.

Then—

Nothing.

I became aware of the floor beneath me and, worse, the people surrounding us.

Several customers had gathered nearby, pretending not to stare.

Humiliation arrived before strength did.

Perfect.

I’d collapsed in public.

Again.

And Cheng was taking care of me.

Again.

Why couldn’t I take care of myself?

He had known me for only a few days, yet somehow I kept becoming his problem.

I don’t deserve him.

The thought hurt because beneath the shame was something uglier.

Fear.

I’m afraid.

Afraid of being alone. Afraid that if nobody was there to catch me, I’d discover I couldn’t actually do any of this by myself.

I had crossed an ocean because I wanted control over my life—university, work, money, a future that belonged to me. This was supposed to be my chance to succeed.

But what did success even mean anymore?

A degree? A job? Sleeping without nightmares? Being touched without wondering what the other person really wanted from me?

What am I even trying to become?

“Chin Mae.” Cheng’s thumb brushed my cheek. “Look at me.”

I did.

“Good. Stay with me.”

I swallowed and pressed a hand against my stomach.

“I think I can sit up.”

“Slowly.”

I pushed myself onto my forearms. The café tilted violently and Cheng moved an arm behind me, then stopped.

“Can I?”

I nodded. Only then did he help me upright. The distinction shouldn’t have mattered so much.

But it did.

Once I was sitting, Cheng looked over his shoulder at the small crowd.

“You’ve had your show. He’s awake.” His voice was sharp enough that several people immediately looked away.

“Nosy hypocrites,” he muttered as they returned to their tables.

Despite everything, the corner of my mouth twitched.

“You were unconscious for almost ten minutes.”

My almost-smile vanished.

“Ten?”

Cheng nodded, jaw tightening. “At first everyone just stood there. Then you weren’t breathing properly and someone finally came over.”

My blood went cold.

“Who touched me?” The question came out too fast.

Cheng frowned. “A customer. I think he was a doctor.”

I searched the room. “Where is he?”

“He left. He got a call from the hospital and said there was an emergency.” Cheng studied my face. “Why?”

I opened my mouth but nothing came out.

How could I explain that an unknown person touching my unconscious body made every instinct inside me scream?

Cheng waited. Then, thankfully, he let it go.

“We should get you home.”

Home.

His home, apparently.

He stood and offered his hand.

“Can you walk?”

I looked at his open palm before placing mine in it.

“I think so.”

I was wrong.

My legs felt numb, and every few steps the floor shifted beneath me.

While Cheng collected our things, I held onto a table and tried to convince myself I could walk out alone.

“I can carry my bag.”

“No.”

“I can.”

“You can barely carry yourself.”

“That was rude.”

“That was accurate.” He slung my backpack over his shoulder beside his own.

Normally, I would’ve argued until he gave it back but I didn’t have the energy.

He walked slowly towards the exit, glancing back every few steps.

I followed.

One foot. Then the other.

See? You’re fine.

My knee buckled. “Cheng!”

His name escaped before pride could stop it.

He spun around just as I lost my balance.

His arms caught me around the waist. “I’ve got you.”

My hands landed against his chest. His face was suddenly inches from mine.

For a moment, neither of us moved. His breath brushed my lips.

Coffee and cinnamon.

The smell made my stomach twist, but underneath it was something warmer.

Something unmistakably him.

My gaze dropped to his mouth.

For one exhausted, completely irrational second, I wondered whether the cinnamon would taste different from his lips.

Cheng inhaled sharply.

Reality returned.

He shifted me against his side and wrapped an arm securely around my shoulders. “You really can’t walk.”

“I can.”

“You just fell.”

“I temporarily stopped walking.”

He stared at me.

Even I knew how stupid that sounded.

“Shut up.”

His mouth twitched.

Outside, the cold air hit my face.

I welcomed it.

The rain had softened, leaving the pavement glossy beneath the city lights.

“Cheng…” I wanted to say I’m sorry, or thank you, or even tell him he could leave me somewhere.

Instead, his name used the last of my energy.

He pulled me closer, and something inside me finally gave up.

Not consciousness.

Resistance.

My fingers caught the back of his sweater beneath his jacket.

I held on.

At first only enough to steady myself.

Then tighter.

I glanced around. Nobody cared. The city continued around us as if we were invisible.

I closed my eyes. The voices in my head were less forgiving.

Let go.

You’re getting too close.

You’ll ruin this too.

Usually, they won.

Tonight, Cheng was warm and I was tired of being cold.

I wanted comfort.

Not forever. Just now.

Maybe being sick had weakened my defences. Maybe I had denied myself warmth for so long that my body had stopped asking permission.

My fingers curled more into the back of his sweater, clutching the fabric like he was the only thing keeping me from falling apart.

Just a little longer.

Tomorrow I would put distance between us again. I would remember why people were safer outside the walls and keep Cheng away from whatever followed me.

Tomorrow.

Just not now.

His hand moved towards the back of my head.

I flinched.

He stopped immediately but I didn’t pull away.

After a second, his fingers continued, gently guiding my head against his shoulder.

My cheek settled there.

His wet hair brushed my forehead with every step.

Neither of us spoke.

For once, silence didn’t feel empty.

Somewhere along the way, I lost time again. Not completely. There were fragments.

A car passing. Cheng saying my name. A door opening.

Warm air. Then quiet.

When the world became clear again, I was still leaning against him.

The rain and traffic were gone. We stood in a warm hallway in front of a lift.

“Where are we?”

“My building.” Cheng adjusted his hold on me.

“Are you okay?”

“Mhm.” I lifted my head.

His breathing was heavier than usual.

Of course it was. He had practically carried me all the way here.

Guilt settled over me again.

I should stand on my own. I should make this easier.

Instead, my eyes drifted towards his neck.

Close. Too close.

His skin moved when he swallowed and y mouth watered.

I looked away immediately.

Not again.

Why did that keep happening?

At the café I’d blamed hunger. Exhaustion. The smell of coffee.

But there was no coffee here.

Only Cheng.

Doesn’t this bother him?

Carrying my things. Holding me up. Watching me collapse every few hours like some fragile idiot.

Why did he care so much?

Nobody was this kind without eventually wanting something in return. Were they?

Maybe one day he’d list everything he had done and tell me what I owed him.

The thought should’ve made me move away.

Instead, being close to Cheng made my suspicions harder to believe.

My lips curved faintly.

He noticed. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re smiling.”

“No, I’m not.”

“You are.”

The lift still hadn’t arrived. Cheng pressed the button again. Then again. 

“I don’t think attacking it makes it faster.”

“It should.” His voice came out breathless.

My smile disappeared. “I should move.”

“Don’t.” The answer was immediate. He blinked, as if surprised by himself.

“I mean… you’re still weak.” His expression softened.

“I was watching you all day. Something was wrong even before you collapsed.”

Of course he’d noticed.

He’d followed me through the rain, waited outside every place while I handed out CVs and let me fall silent whenever my head became too crowded.

And I had repaid him by passing out.

“I should’ve eaten at university.”

“Yes.”

I frowned. “You weren’t supposed to agree that fast.”

“You should have.”

“I know.”

“Then eat tomorrow.”

I almost laughed. Maybe that was what today should’ve been: university, rain, tea, talking, then goodbye.

Normal.

Instead, Cheng was bringing me back to his apartment for the second time.

“Maybe it’s a virus,” he said. “I felt awful when I first arrived here too. Maybe your body needs to adjust.”

“To English air?”

He smiled. “Something like that.”

I understood what he meant. I’d experienced something similar when I moved countries as a child.

But this wasn’t that. A virus didn’t explain the meat.

Or the blood. Or why Cheng’s throat kept drawing my attention. I couldn’t tell him any of that.

The lift doors finally opened.

The mirror inside showed us exactly how close we were.

His arm around me. Mine around him.

My head almost resting against his shoulder now.

Suddenly, I felt exposed.

“Sorry.” I pulled away and stepped inside.

Too quickly.

The lift shifted beneath my feet and I grabbed the railing.

Cheng entered after me but didn’t touch me. For once, the small distance between us felt enormous.

I stared at our reflections.

He looked exhausted. Because of me.

Sooner or later, he’d get tired of this.

Maybe not tonight. Maybe not tomorrow. But eventually he would realise I required more effort than I was worth.

Then he’d leave.

The thought shouldn’t have hurt.

We barely knew each other.

So why did it?

When the lift opened, Cheng glanced back to make sure I was following.

I pushed myself away from the wall.

My heart had started racing again.

Breathe.

One step. Then another.

By the time we reached his apartment, I was hiding how badly my lungs were struggling.

Cheng unlocked the door.

It opened.

And something hit me.

I stopped.

Metal.

The smell was faint, but my body reacted as though someone had shoved it directly beneath my nose.

Sharp. Warm. My stomach contracted.

Blood.

I covered my nose.

No.

“Chin Mae?” Cheng turned.

The scent seemed to grow stronger with every breath.

My chest tightened. “I need air.”

“What?”

“I can’t breathe.” I clenched my shirt over my chest. “I need—”

Cheng reached towards my face, then stopped before touching me. “Can I?”

I nodded. His palm cupped my cheek. “Look at me.”

I couldn’t. All I could think about was that smell.

“I need air.”

“Okay.”

No questions.

He got me into the bedroom and opened the window.

Cold air rushed inside. I dragged it into my lungs.

Once.

Again. Again.

Slowly, the room stopped closing around me.

“Better?”

I nodded, though my hands were still shaking.

Cheng sat on the bed behind me.

“Come here.” He didn’t pull me towards him.

He waited.

I looked at the space between his legs, then at him.

Normally, the position would’ve terrified me.

Tonight, I was too tired to fight everything.

I leaned back.

His chest supported my weight while his legs rested loosely on either side of mine.

“Don’t worry,” he murmured. “You have me.”

There was a wet cloth in his hand.

“Breathe through this.” He raised it.

That was when I noticed his fingers.

Red.

I stared. The metallic scent intensified.

“Cheng…”

He followed my gaze.

“What?”

His hand was red.

Something strange pulsed through my gums—not quite pain, more like pressure. My tongue moved instinctively across my teeth.

“What happened to your hand?”

Cheng turned it over. “Oh. Nothing.”

Nothing?

My body disagreed. The smell was coming from him.

“Here.” He pressed the cool cloth gently over my nose and mouth.

I inhaled.

Cold water.

Clean fabric.

The metallic scent dulled.

His other hand moved slowly across my tense shoulder. “Better?”

“Y-yeah.” My voice barely existed.

“Thanks.” I wanted to ask where the red had come from.

More disturbingly, part of me wanted him to move the cloth so I could smell it again.

The thought frightened me.

I closed my eyes. Cheng removed the cloth.

Panic shot through me. “No!” My hand snapped around his wrist.

Too hard.

He froze.

I released him immediately.

“Sorry.”

Without saying anything, Cheng pointed towards the bedside table.

A transparent bowl filled with ice water.

He had only been wetting the cloth again.

Idiot.

“Sorry,” I repeated, quieter.

He dipped the cloth into the bowl.

Water trickled from it when he lifted it again.

The sound soothed me.

Drop.

Drop.

Drop.

He squeezed out the excess and returned the cloth to my face.

I inhaled deeply.

The cold helped. So did Cheng’s body behind mine. I could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest.

My breathing slowly began to follow it.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

Then he started humming. Quietly.

A melody I didn’t recognise.

There was something familiar about the feeling, though. Not the song.

Being cared for.

My throat tightened.

I hated how much I had missed it.

How easily my body accepted it now that it had been offered.

My eyelids grew heavy.

“It’s okay,” Cheng whispered. His fingers brushed gently between my eyebrows, smoothing the tension I hadn’t realised I was holding there. “I’ll look after you, Chin Mae.”

I wanted to tell him not to say things like that.

Promises were dangerous. People made them when everything was easy; then circumstances changed, feelings changed, people changed. Words that once made you feel safe became the ones you wished you’d never believed.

I knew better.

So why did Cheng’s voice make my chest ache?

I wanted to apologise for the café, for making him carry me, for bringing whatever was wrong with me into his life.

But exhaustion dragged me somewhere quieter.

His fingers moved through my hair. “I’m here for you,” he whispered.

My body relaxed further against him.

“I’m here.”

I should’ve been afraid. Instead, I let my head rest more fully against his chest.

For once, I didn’t ask what he wanted from me or how long it would last. I didn’t force myself away simply because staying felt good.

There would be time for fear tomorrow. Time to remember why I couldn’t afford to need him.

But tonight, Cheng was warm. His heartbeat was steady behind me. And I was so tired of surviving everything alone.

Just a little longer.

That was all I wanted.

Just a little longer before I had to become careful again.

My fingers curled loosely into the fabric of his shirt. Then I stopped fighting sleep.

And, for one dangerous moment, I let myself believe him.