He Jun is dropped onto the bed like a lump of clay, while Zhihan moves away and disappears into the adjoining bathroom.

He has a good enough idea of what Zhihan intends to do so he turns away, and pulls his feet up to survey the injury.

There is no longer any splinter embedded in the sole, but the previously pierced skin now bears a small but still bleeding wound. For once, He Jun is thankful that he doesn’t have anywhere to go in the coming days, as this will allow the injury to quickly heal, perhaps even on its own.

He hears movement then— a drawer being pulled open... another closing- and can’t help but incline his head to listen.

Soon, the subject of his attention returns and tosses a small first aid kit onto the bed. Then he heads over to the single armchair by a corner and settles down on it.

He Jun moves his gaze from the kit to Zhihan, and finds the boy watching him. He is seated in that lazy, half slouching and half posing manner that gives off an air of seductive recklessness. 

There is a searing intensity to his gaze that leaves anyone on the receiving end of it for too long, flustered and overheated. Currently it makes He Jun feel all of the above and threatened, so he lowers his gaze, unashamed for looking his fill but now bearing the consequence in the desire that tightens the already bound knots of his nerves.

He needs to get whatever it is they should sort out over and done with, so that they can both move on with their lives.

Without a word, he pulls the kit to himself and retrieves the saline. It is only then that Zhihan's ordeal from earlier in the day returns to his mind, so with widened eyes, he turns to him.

“Your cras-“ he begins, but quickly catches himself. “The race,” he says, his tone a bit more controlled, clear and detached. “How’s your body? You got back up but you must be bruised.”

The response that he is more or less expecting is delivered, and as sharply as predicted. “What is it to you?”

He Jun takes a very much-needed few minutes to think up a response. In the meantime, he soaks the wool with the solution, and begins to dab it against his wound.

“We’re friends,” He Jun eventually says. “It doesn’t exactly bring me joy to see you get hurt.”

The words are barely out of his mouth before he realizes that he has once again screwed up.

“So why have you shut me out?” Zhihan asks, and He Jun can only sigh at the massive chest of worms that he has inadvertently pulled open. This is what they have to sort out anyway so he lets them crawl all around his head, wondering which to begin with.

He starts with the truth, no matter how dangerously close it is to another truth that he most definitely does not want to explore.

“I’ve shut you out because I’ve fallen, and I don’t want to bring you down with me.”

Zhihan’s response is a derisive scoff, and He Jun can do little more than shake his head. He never expected this to be an easy conversation.

“You’re a hypocrite,” Zhihan says. “And you’re in-genuine and manipulative."

Silence follows this, so He Jun lifts his gaze to meet Zhihan seething silently, dark clouds gathering on his face.

“Are you done?” He Jun asks.

He doesn’t get a response.

“If you aren’t then take your time, and let me know when you are. But if you already are then I’d like to know why exactly you’re reigning all these insults down on me?”

“There’s more to life?” Zhihan’s response is immediate. “How can you say that and-"

He Jun stills and sure enough, he is able to catch the heavy, shudder of Zhihan’s breath as the rest of the sentence manages to come out. "How can you say that and shut me out?”

He Jun returns his gaze to his feet and retrieves the ointment from the kit.

“That… incident was bad. It's still bad. And I know you still haven’t recovered from it. But there was no reason to shut me out. In public… perhaps, but how …. why privately too? I let it go. I considered that you needed the space but it's almost a year now. You closed yourself off from me for almost a whole year. How long are you planning to keep this on for?”

He Jun swallows and tries his best to choose his words carefully.

“You’re not the only friend that I have Zhihan,” he says. “And you’re not the only one that I haven’t spoken to for almost a year. Why are you making such a big deal out of nothing?”

His voice is quiet as he speaks, and afterwards the room continues on with silence. Soon however, he can’t help but look up and what he sees, sends a knife through his gut.

The corners of Zhihan's eyes are brimming a blood-red, and in those piercing heart-wrenching depths, are thick pools of tears.

They don't fall and He Jun rises to his feet in alarm, unable anymore to remain seated.

“Zhihan,” he calls. Gently. Fearfully.

"I don't want to be your friend," Zhihan says through gritted teeth. "Not anymore."

He Jun stops breathing.

"Zhihan," he warns.

"I want you," he continues right on. Defiantly. Bitterly. "What do I have to do to get you?”

He Jun is unable to process any of this. Or remain in the vicinity or presence of this boy so he takes a step towards the door. However, the pain from his still undressed wound forces the sharp reminder that figuring out how to deal with this in the current moment, is the wiser choice rather than just running away once again.

“You want to run away again?" Zhihan asks and He Jun boldly meets his gaze.

"Stop,” he growls, his face changing into something dark and deadly.

Zhihan smiles, and the wicked curve of his lips sends chills down He Jun’s spine.

“See?” he says. “Hypocrite. Ingenuine. Manipulative. This is the real you isn’t it?”

At these words, something disappears from the boy’s gaze and afterwards is a hunger that promises to devour He Jun whole.

“I want to know these parts of you too,” Zhihan declares. "I want to understand just why I haven't been able to get you out of my mind since the first fucking day I laid eyes on you."

"I'm done pretending. Are you?”