He Jun has never been in a staring contest before.

But he has always imagined that if he were in one, he would immediately lose because he would be too amused to keep a straight face.

Right now, there is no single trace of amusement to be found. 

And yet he loses, because Zhihan is staring so deeply into his eyes, that He Jun feels as though his form is slowly disintegrating into nothing.

He moves, impetuously, and trips all over himself.

For the second time within the span of a minute, Zhihan’s eyes widen as He Jun crashes to the floor.

“Shit,” he swears under his breath at the brutal impact to his behind, and cannot help but be amazed by just how much falling he is doing around Zhihan these days.

Literally and figuratively.

“Ge!” Zhihan immediately rises to help him, but He Jun is quicker.

He almost trips over his feet again but manages to stable himself, a hand held out to keep Zhihan at bay. He is now convinced that he most definitely cannot be within conversational distance with Zhihan lest he detonates.

“I’m okay,” he says. “I'm good.”

He keeps walking backward without even realizing it, and it is only the immense concern on Zhihan’s face that alerts him that he is about to crash into something else.

“Jun ge!” Zhihan calls, out but it is too late. His lower back collides with something hard, and a gasp of pain escapes him. He turns around as he feels whatever he has hit wobble, but once again he is too late. The vase of orchids on the foyer’s table tilts, and before He Jun can catch it, it falls off and crashes to the ground.

Afterwards, everything goes silent.

He Jun stares down at the shattered ceramic shards for a long moment. 

Then he turns to his left without a word, and strolls towards his room. He locks the door the moment he arrives and heads straight for his bed. Then he collapses face down on it and starts to contemplate on which method of suicide would be the quickest and least painful route for him.

He wants to scream into his pillow for the embarrassing debacle he has just exhibited before Zhihan, but has no choice but to remain as still as the dead. This is also what he feels he should be right now- dead.

He kissed Zhihan.

No, that wasn’t just a kiss. He practically devoured the boy. His damn cock eventually knocked his brain out of his skull and took control, and now he is hiding like a fugitive in his own home.

No doubt Zhihan right down is stunned out of his mind, but He Jun had also been the same way when Zhihan had confessed to him two weeks earlier. Zhihan however had simply used his words. Had been civil and courteous enough, while He Jun on the other hand had nearly pulled the boy's tongue from his mouth.

Zhihan's tongue…

He Jun's head spins at the reminder.

He tasted Zhihan.

His mouth had connected with the boy’s and he cannot remember the last time he had felt such a surge of excitement. He cannot believe it. His naughty member right now is throbbing, eager for more, and He Jun wishes that he can cut it off from his body because it is now clear that its mission is to drive him to madness.

He kissed Zhihan!

He fucking kissed Zhihan! His 'friend!' A fucking guy!

Forget about jerking off to the boy, that was a private indulgence that should have stayed exactly as.

Private. 

But now… 

"Fuck," he shudders and grips the comforter. 

How is he to resolve this now? What is he to say? There is no doubt that Zhihan is just as confounded as he is, especially since he has now been abandoned in the living room.

Damage control! He thinks and forces himself to sit upright. 

He stares straight ahead without seeing a thing, and wonders about the trajectory that his life is taking. Boycotted and turning gay? All in the same year? What the fuck is happening?

He looks at the shut door and ponders on what to do next.

Damage control, the phrase repeats in his head but he doesn’t know what to do in response because he is the one causing the damage here, and also the one who is severely out of control. With a sigh, he thinks of his phone and is so grateful when he finds it in the pocket of his pants. He immediately checks to see if Zhihan has left him any message because this is for certain the only way they will be communicating with each other henceforth.

He finds nothing, and He Jun is somewhat grateful. Zhihan has also not come to his room to check up on him, and he is also grateful for this. He needs a while- a long while to process what he has just done.

And to think that he had the gall to include that slimy conclusion.

“ There. I’ve done something that requires an apology too. Now we’re even.”

Are they?

And will they ever be?

What exactly has Zhihan done wrong besides confessing his attraction to him. He on the other hand had nearly molested him.

Damage control, the words come to him again so he pulls up their chat room.

Then he takes a deep breath and types.

“I lost my mind back there, I’m sorry. I think it was the wine haha. I need to sleep. I’ve been too exhausted of late. Please see yourself out, or sleep over if you wish. The guest room is clean and you know where everything is. Forgive me.”

He reads the text message over, and clicks send. 

Then he shuts the phone off and crawls underneath the covers.

>>>>>>>>>>><<<<<<<<<<<

To his surprise, he immediately falls asleep.

The adrenaline and alcohol did indeed take their toll so when he opens his eyes again, he meets that the sun has long risen.

Disoriented, he sits up, rubbing his eyes, and slowly it all starts to come back to him. 

Zhihan, the name rings out in his head and heart and he immediately jumps to his feet. Just before he reaches the door, however, something else occurs to him so he turns around and heads back to retrieve his phone. His hands are somewhat shaky as he turns the device on, and then he has to sit on the bed so that his legs do not give out from underneath him.

It is the morning after and he is still just as shaken. What is this boy doing to him?

He is immensely sullen as the phone comes on, and as expected there are messages waiting for him. 

He is almost afraid to open them, but is aware that he cannot delay any further.

Zhihan’s chatroom is first priority so he opens that, and reads the first message. 

“We’re even. Don’t apologize again.”

An hour later. 

“I’ll stay over. It’s too late to head back.”

And then nothing.

He checks the time and sees that it is almost 9 am, and this is fucking late. There is no way that Zhihan is still here. But it is a Sunday so perhaps he still is?

He Jun wants to text him to confirm, but his thumbs suddenly know what caution is so he cannot get them to work.

Eventually, he rises to his feet, goes to the bathroom to wash his face, and reminds himself that he is a grown fucking man. 

How he will be able to continue living however with his head held up, knowing that he kissed Zhihan and fled is an entirely different conundrum. The first step to resolving this however is to step out of his room and face Zhihan.

So he goes to the door, takes a deep breath, and unlocks it. Then he strolls out to the hallway, casually, and hopefully confidently. The guest room is on the opposite side of the apartment, however, he doesn’t go to it. He arrives at the kitchen and looks around.

First of all, the broken vase has been cleared up and everything else put back in its place.

And there is no sign of Zhihan.

There is however something new that catches his eye.

It is a take-out bag in the middle of the island counter. So he heads over and meets that it contains scallion pancakes.

He smiles, but it is a sad one and he knows why.

For all his cowardice, he was wishing that Zhihan was still here. That he could see him, even though he is quite likely to flee again. 

Because God only knows when next he would be able to.

Afterwards, he finds a note in the boy’s less than savory handwriting, placed underneath the bag.

It reads:

Ge,

1. I don’t know how to cook so here’s your breakfast.
2. I have to go back to Beijing today. I have an event scheduled for thsi evening.
3. I read the script on the leather recliner. I couldn’t sleep. It was unopened. Hope you don’t mind. I loved it. It seems like something you will enjoy. I hope you don’t turn it down.

Zhihan.

There is nothing about the kiss.

Absolutely no mention of it. Almost as if it didn’t happen.

He Jun takes his first easy breath of the day, and it is only afterwards that he realizes how dangerous this relief is too because it appears that Zhihan understands him more than He Jun has ever realized before.

Zhihan had given him space the previous night. He had refrained from blasting him with messages or knocking on his door to demand an audience.

He had simply left, like the wind, and ensured to feed him before he did.

Shit.

He Jun runs a hand through his hair. 

He feels like prey. 

Willing, and susceptible prey.