Yun Qi had imagined countless ways to confess his feelings, but in none of them did Yu Jin confess to him first. He had pictured it happening at just the right moment and place: he would explain everything from back then, Yu Jin would accept it, and only then would he lay his heart bare. Yet after three years—years in which he had been the one to walk away and hurt Yu Jin—it was still Yu Jin taking the initiative.
Yun Qi’s thoughts spun into chaos.
As he listened to Yu Jin’s captivating voice pouring out those words of affection, even the flirtatious moments of the past few days suddenly made perfect sense. It wasn’t that his own disguise had been flawless; Yu Jin had simply been willing to play along because he liked him, letting his amateurish performance carry on right in front of him.
Yun Qi squeezed his eyes shut, unwilling to believe what he was hearing. Yu Jin wouldn’t let him hide from it. “Open your eyes,” he commanded.
Yun Qi slowly obeyed. The blush on his cheeks flared hotter, creeping to the corners of his eyes and the tips of his ears. Everywhere Yu Jin touched burned with heat. Yu Jin tilted up Yun Qi’s chin and leaned in for a kiss, then slid his hand to the back of Yun Qi’s head, fingers threading through his damp hair as he closed his own eyes.
Yun Qi’s arms came up, wrapping around Yu Jin’s waist.
He fell silent for a long time, at a loss for words. He had rehearsed so many confessions in his mind, but now that Yu Jin had gone first, every plan lay in ruins. He was still reeling from the kiss, from the confession itself. How could he trust his senses? It had to be a dream, some hallucination born from his overactive imagination.
Yun Qi sniffed deeply, desperate for that comforting scent. Like a loyal pup clinging to its owner, he pressed himself tight against Yu Jin. When had Yu Jin’s feelings begun? The moment he recruited him onto the esports team? Or… had they never truly faded?
His mind raced with ever bolder, wilder thoughts. A faint tremor ran through Yun Qi, and Yu Jin felt it. “What’s wrong?” he murmured, his voice laced with concern.
“I’m just… too happy,” Yun Qi rasped.
He buried his face deeper, molding himself to Yu Jin’s chest. The hand cradling the back of his head pressed a little firmer.
“How happy?” Yu Jin asked. His tone was steady as ever, as if this were the most natural thing in the world—as if he weren’t the least bit surprised.
“Happy beyond words,” Yun Qi said, tears spilling over. “You have no idea.”
Yu Jin touched his forehead to Yun Qi’s and let out a soft chuckle.
That sound—so tender, so resonant—struck straight at Yun Qi’s heart.
A moment later, Yun Qi steadied himself. He looked up to find Yu Jin’s eyes closed. After a brief hesitation, he decided the conversation couldn’t wait any longer. Even if Yu Jin cared for him, it couldn’t be built on misunderstandings. “Three years ago… there was a reason…”
“I know.” Yu Jin’s deep eyes opened, fixing on Yun Qi with a gaze that burned with passion.
“You know?” Yun Qi blinked in bewilderment. Tonight had been full of shocks, this moment included.
“I know,” Yu Jin repeated. He guided Yun Qi’s head back to his chest and shut his eyes once more. “No need to explain. I know everything.”
Yun Qi only grew more confused.
When he glanced up again, Yu Jin was already asleep, his face the picture of exhaustion. The insomnia of late must have worn him down badly. Yun Qi swallowed his urge to speak and settled back, vowing not to disturb him.
Yu Jin slept.
Yun Qi, cradled in his arms, turned the words over in his mind. What did “I know” mean? “I know everything”? Had Yu Jin understood all along, these past few years? How? It was an enormous riddle.
He had voiced so many questions today, yet puzzles lingered. He never imagined picking up Tata would end with Yu Jin’s confession. His plan had been to maintain the fragile balance until after the Grand Tournament, but plans never survived reality. He had mapped out his every move—except for the depths of Yu Jin’s heart.
Part of him feared he was being foolishly hopeful. Sure, Yu Jin might harbor lingering feelings; why else recruit him to the team, look after him so carefully, bring him home? Yun Qi knew that much. But even in his wildest hopes, he hadn’t dared picture Yu Jin confessing first—liking him so fiercely he couldn’t hold back.
Yun Qi’s heart thrummed with exhilaration, though his expression betrayed only a sliver of it. Questions burned inside him, but the steady rhythm of breathing overhead gave him pause. Yu Jin was finally asleep.
The match loomed just ahead; they would compete together. For now, all Yun Qi prayed for was a stable routine for Yu Jin. Nothing more.
Yun Qi couldn’t sleep—he was too elated to drift off. He simply lay there in Yu Jin’s arms, keeping him company and waiting patiently. Tata meowed from somewhere in the room, and Yun Qi desperately wanted to reach back, scoop it up, and hush it. But he didn’t dare move. Insomniacs didn’t fall asleep easily, and Yu Jin’s breathing was steady and even, as if holding Yun Qi like this brought him a sense of peace that finally allowed sleep to claim him.
Yu Jin had said his messed-up sleep schedule was Yun Qi’s fault, so Yun Qi was determined to stick by his side and help fix it. No matter what Yu Jin wanted, Yun Qi would give it everything he had.
When Su Yue stepped out to pour herself some water, she noticed a sliver of light spilling from the crack in Yu Jin’s door. The little cat darted out through the gap and paused by the threshold. Su Yue approached, raising her hand to knock, but the silence inside was so profound it startled her. She lowered her hand and peeked through the opening. On the bed, the two young men were wrapped in each other’s arms, clinging as if fused together. Su Yue froze for a moment, then broke into a silent smile and gently closed the door.
Click.
Yun Qi’s eyes snapped open at the sound from behind him. Was it the wind nudging the door, or Yu Jin’s mother?
Either way, it was perfect.
A soft breeze rustled the curtains, while their mingled breaths rose and fell in steady rhythm. Exhausted from just four hours of sleep over the past two nights, Yu Jin wearily opened his eyes. The person cradled in his arms hadn’t shifted an inch from the position they’d been in when he’d dozed off. He reached for the blanket nearby, but Yun Qi’s eyes fluttered open.
“You’re awake,” Yun Qi said, tilting his head up to meet Yu Jin’s gaze. His eyes shone bright as the crescent moon in the night sky. “I wasn’t asleep.”
Yu Jin brushed a hand over his cheek. “Why not?”
“I’m not tired at all.” Yun Qi beamed, thrilled just to watch Yu Jin stir, even after such a short nap.
“Sorry,” Yu Jin murmured. “I was wiped out.”
Yun Qi propped himself up on the bed and gently touched the corner of Yu Jin’s eye. “I know. That’s why I didn’t wake you.”
Yu Jin smiled faintly. “What time is it?”
The room light was still on, and the dim sky outside gave no clue. Yu Jin felt like he’d slumbered for ages.
Yun Qi grabbed his phone and blinked in disbelief. “An hour. You only slept an hour.”
Yet in that single hour, Yu Jin felt he’d dreamed a lifetime’s worth. He wrapped an arm around Yun Qi’s waist and buried his face against him, inhaling the soothing scent that clung to his skin.
“How about we don’t go back?” Yun Qi suggested softly. “Stay here. You’re exhausted.”
“I’m fine,” Yu Jin mumbled into him. “If you don’t want to stay, we’ll head out.”
Yun Qi hesitated. “It’s just… I’m not really prepared. Next time, if you want to spend the night, give me a heads-up so I can bring some clothes. Okay?”
Truth be told, Yun Qi wasn’t ready to stay over at Yu Jin’s house like this. Their relationship was still so new—Yu Jin’s parents probably hadn’t fully come to terms with it yet. He had a million worries and wanted everything to feel settled before overnighting there.
Yu Jin didn’t reply.
Instead, he tightened his hold on Yun Qi’s waist, fingers splayed across his back, and nuzzled deeper, breathing him in for a long moment. Finally, he murmured, “You smell amazing.”
Yun Qi ducked his head. “So do you.”
“I don’t smell like anything,” Yu Jin protested.
“You do,” Yun Qi insisted. He leaned in to sniff, then nodded firmly at Yu Jin. “I can totally smell it.”
Yu Jin threaded his fingers through Yun Qi’s hair, his touch tender. “What does it smell like?”
Yun Qi answered honestly, “I don’t know. Can’t put it into words. But I love it.”
“Love it?” Yu Jin pressed Yun Qi’s head lower. The ring on his finger grazed the dark strands, his fingertips sinking sensually into the soft locks. “How much?”
The words tugged Yun Qi’s thoughts back to that earlier confession.
With his nose brushing Yu Jin’s forehead, Yun Qi glanced down to find Yu Jin’s eyes locked intently on his. He swallowed hard. “The kind of love where I think about you day and night.”
Yu Jin gripped his shoulders and cradled his head, drawing them into a deep embrace. Yun Qi dipped his head for a kiss, their hot, slick lips and tongues melding like sticky taffy—once joined, impossible to pull apart. Yu Jin was a master of passionate kisses; he adored them. They’d shared plenty before, but Yun Qi still felt like a novice, always the one yielding to Yu Jin’s lead, swept away into fervent abandon.
They’d been tangled like that for so long that one of Yun Qi’s arms had gone numb. He couldn’t hold the position any longer; his waist buckled, and he collapsed onto Yu Jin. But the kiss didn’t break. Yu Jin seized his waist, rolled them over, and pinned Yun Qi beneath him on the bed.
Now lying side by side, the blood rushed back into Yun Qi’s compressed arm with a prickling ache. He gasped for air, but Yu Jin’s fervor left no room for breath. Unwilling to dampen the mood, Yun Qi responded eagerly, wagging like an affectionate puppy, lost in a haze of desire as they tumbled into the stormy night.
“Old Su!”
A sharp voice pierced from outside. Yun Qi’s heart lurched in alarm; his eyes flew open, and he shoved at Yu Jin to break free. But Yu Jin held fast, forcing Yun Qi to plead breathlessly amid the kiss: “No, Yu Jin…”
Yu Jin seized that annoying hand of his and pressed wolfishly against Yun Qi’s lips, teasing, “Not calling me brother anymore?”
Yun Qi used to love calling him by his full name with “brother” tacked on the end. It had nothing to do with their age difference—it was just their playful brand of intimacy. In the heat of the moment, Yun Qi would call out to him like that on instinct, always with some clever little scheme designed to stoke Yu Jin’s fire.
“Do you like hearing it?” Yun Qi’s lips shimmered with moisture once he was released, and Yu Jin gently wiped them with his finger.
“I do,” he replied without hesitation.
“Brother Jin.” Yun Qi let the words slip out, his eyes tinged red at the corners.
The boy had a real knack for being irresistible, though maybe it was the three-plus years of pent-up longing talking—even if Yun Qi cursed him out right now, it would probably get Yu Jin going. Thoroughly satisfied, Yu Jin sat up and hauled Yun Qi to his feet in one smooth motion. “Call it less from now on.”
Still in his socks, Yun Qi planted his feet on Yu Jin’s bed. “Hm? Didn’t you just say you liked it?”
