Chapter Text
Gong Jun wakes with the feeling that he hasn’t slept all night—groggy and hazy, throat sore and sour from nausea.
He must have slept at least a little bit, he knows, but he’s full of hazy memories of tossing and turning and replaying scenes from this weekend over and over again in his mind—of their fingers linked together as they stared up at the sky, of Zhehan’s gentle smile, of the simple joys they’d been able to share, in the days before the end.
He feels safe in saying that they were genuinely friends—that, even in the limited amount of time they’d spent together, Zhehan genuinely cared for him. The loss he feels is greater than pining after a fling. He’d robbed himself of having a friendship with someone who understood him, and hurt Zhehan in the process, too.
Zhehan’s expression from last night springs to mind once more, his bright, frustrated eyes, and Gong Jun’s throat tightens. He didn’t—he didn’t mean to hurt Zhehan. Didn’t mean to make him think that Gong Jun was rejecting him as a friend, that Gong Jun was rejecting him as a person.
But the words wouldn’t come, last night, and all Gong Jun could think about was protecting his own feelings.
Now, he thinks, that was the wrong thing to do.
Doubt and regret swirl heavy inside him as he drags himself to the bathroom and then to the kitchen. He grabs an orange, his stomach roiling violently at the thought of eating anything more substantial than fruit.
“At least peel it first,” Daidai says, snatching it from Gong Jun’s hand, and Gong Jun jumps, not having noticed he was even in the kitchen. Daidai looks warily at Gong Jun as he peels the orange for him. “You look worse than last night.”
“Do I?” Gong Jun says. His voice sounds flat, even to his ears. He presses his forehead against the counter. “I think I made a mistake.”
“By going out with him?”
“No, I don’t regret that.” As tied up into knots that Gong Jun is over the whole situation, he wouldn’t take this week back even if he could. His life is better for having had Zhehan in it—which leads to his actual regret. “Last night, when we got back… He’d already told me, before, that he wouldn’t mind staying friends, and that’s all I wanted, in the beginning, anyway, but…”
“Then you went and fell in love,” Daidai fills in.
“Yeah.” Gong Jun stares down at the hardwood floor through his legs, the pattern swimming in his vision. “But he didn’t. And I got it in my head that that would be too much for me to handle. If we broke up, and went to being friends, but with me being the only one having to get over anything.”
“I mean, that makes sense to me.” Gong Jun hears a plate slide across the counter, and lifts his head to see Daidai had broken the slices onto a plate for him. “What if he starts dating someone else this week? You’re still fresh off your heartbreak. It wouldn’t be fair to you to have to deal with that right now.”
Gong Jun sticks an orange slice into his mouth. The cool burst of sugar and acid soothes his nerves somewhat. “I don’t know. From what he’s saying, I don’t think he’s going to date anyone else after graduating. He’ll be busy getting ready to leave for filming soon.”
“Still,” Daidai says, peeling his own orange. “It’s not wrong for you to want to take some time for you to sort yourself out first. He’s gone out with so many people, I’m sure he’d understand if you talked to him about it.”
“I didn’t… exactly talk to him about it,” Gong Jun says, feeling a bit chastised for not doing so. But it had always seemed like his own problem to bear—why burden Zhehan with Gong Jun’s unrequited feelings? “But, with what I did say… I think he took it the wrong way. Or, I didn’t say it right.”
Dadai frowns. “How did you say it, exactly? Like, I need some time?”
Try as he might, Gong Jun can’t remember exactly the words he used. The only thing he remembers clearly about last night is his own anxiety and the way his mind and words had faltered in the face of Zhehan’s distress.
“We made plans,” Gong Jun says, “for after. I’d promised to make dinner tonight for him and his friends, after graduation.”
“What?” Daidai says. “Why would you agree to that?”
“I lost a bet.”
“We have to talk about your competitive streak,” Daidai says. “But that’s not important right now. So, what happened, you told him you couldn’t do that anymore?”
“I think,” Gong Jun says, “that what I said was along the lines of wanting a clean break.”
Daidai sets down his orange. “You know that’s basically the same as saying, I never want to see you again, right?”
“I didn’t mean forever,” Gong Jun says. “I just meant, for right now—I don’t know, I think—I tried explaining, but he was already so upset I didn’t know what to say.”
“I would have taken that the wrong way, too,” Daidai says. “Why don’t you message him and explain?”
That’s a good idea. Gong Jun goes back to his room for his phone and pulls up Zhehan’s contact as he comes back out to the kitchen. His heart leaps into his throat. “He blocked me.”
Daidai drops his orange and quickly picks it back up again. “Seriously? What the hell did you say to him?”
“I can’t remember, I really can’t,” Gong Jun says, closing the app and reopening it and trying again. Still blocked. Zhehan must be upset—really upset. “I have to apologize.”
“What are you gonna do, show up at his apartment?” Daidai says. “I feel like that’s crossing a line, especially if he’s blocked you.”
That’s fair—he doesn’t want Zhehan to think he can’t respect boundaries, but also, it’s clear now that he has to say something. He never wanted things between them to end permanently, and especially not like this. He can’t bear the thought of having this be their final memory.
“His friends,” Gong Jun says, suddenly remembering what they’d arranged with Daidai. “You have his friend’s contact, right? The one who came to pick up the apartment key from you?”
“Yes,” Daidai says slowly. “But if he doesn’t want to talk to you, what makes you think his friends will?”
“I don’t know,” Gong Jun says. “But it’s the only thing I have left to try. Please, Daidai.”
“This still feels like a mild invasion of privacy,” Daidai says as he hands over his phone, “but I guess he could always just block you, too.”
Gong Jun very much hopes he will not be blocked, and spends the next fifteen minutes agonizing over a message to send that sounds appropriately apologetic and desperate but not unhinged. Once he hits send, the message immediately becomes a wall of text on the screen that makes him cringe, but before he can decide whether or not to recall it and start all over again, a reply appears from Yu Xiang:
Be outside in 5 minutes.
“He’s going to beat you up,” Daidai says when he sees the message. “Don’t wear anything you wouldn’t want to get blood on.”
“Daidai, this isn’t the time to joke around.”
“Who says I’m joking!” Daidai says. “Listen, if it had been Zhang Zhehan who said he never wanted to see you again, and you who had blocked him, you’d better believe that if he came crawling to my WeChat after that begging for forgiveness, I would go punch him right in his pretty face.”
“But not too hard,” Gong Jun says dryly. “Because of aesthetic appreciation.”
“Aesthetic appreciation means nothing in the face of defending your bro,” Daidai says.
Gong Jun would appreciate that more if Daidai wasn’t making a very convincing argument that Gong Jun is, in fact, very likely about to get beat up. He stares at the message on the screen. “I would deserve it,” he decides, and goes to find a waterproof jacket.
“Also put on some pants!” Daidai yells after him. “Your dick’s too big of a target!”
If Yu Xiang were to punch him in the dick, he would probably deserve that too, Gong Jun decides, but decency compels him to pull on a pair of jeans. He doesn’t bother finding his keys or his wallet on his way out the door—“I’ll lock it!” Daidai calls out from behind him, though Gong Jun wasn’t even thinking about it.
He runs down the hall to the elevator, mashes the button, and paces in front of the doors. When it takes longer than a half minute to arrive, he abandons it for the stairwell, running down the stairs two at a time.
He looks around when he emerges from the building, but he doesn’t see anyone waiting for him on the sidewalk, in front of his building or any of the neighboring ones. He’s just pulling his phone out of his pocket when there’s a honk from across the street and a voice yells, “Over here, asshole!”
He looks over. Yu Xiang is gesturing him over from the passenger side window of a polished, white sedan.
Gong Jun glances up and down the street before jogging over.
“That took you long enough,” Yu Xiang says. He looks mildly pissed, but not like he’s about to throw a punch. In fact, he doesn’t even move to get out of the car.
Zhang Su, in the driver’s seat next to him, waves Gong Jun toward the backseat. “Come on, he’s going to have to start getting ready for the graduation ceremony soon.”
“If his ma sees him with puffy eyes, we will not hesitate before offering you up as a sacrifice,” Yu Xiang says. “Now hurry up and get in already.”
Gong Jun has no idea what’s happening, but he scrambles into the backseat anyway. Zhang Su doesn’t even wait for him to get his seatbelt on before he’s pulling onto the street. “Where are we going?”
“Zhehan’s apartment,” Yu Xiang says, in a tone that screams obviously.
“Why?”
“Because you would have walked all the way or taken a bus, right?” Yu Xiang says. “That would’ve taken forever. Susu, take the shortcut.”
“I already told you it’s not a shortcut, it’ll take longer,” Zhang Su says.
“What? No way it’ll take longer.”
“It doesn’t matter, I’m the driver, so I’m picking the route.”
“I’m timing it,” Yu Xiang says, thumb flying over his phone. “Take the shortcut next time and we’ll see who’s right.”
“I meant,” Gong Jun says, “why are you taking me?”
“Sorry, from your incredibly sad message, I was under the impression you wanted to grovel at Zhehan’s feet,” Yu Xiang says. “Was I wrong?”
“Well, no,” Gong Jun says. “But—why are you helping me?”
It’s Zhang Su who answers this time. “Zhehan is friendly with a lot of people, but he isn’t the type to let someone close so easily. You mean a lot to him, and we want to believe you’re a good guy, so if you’re really sorry—which it seems like you are—then you should get a second chance.”
“You’re also an idiot, by the way,” Yu Xiang says. “I don’t want you to get the wrong idea, just because Susu’s being nice. We’re mad at you.”
“Very mad,” Zhang Su agrees. “But also glad that Zhehan’s found you, and glad that you didn’t take long to get your head out of your ass.”
“But still mad,” Yu Xiang says.
“I understand,” Gong Jun says. “I—I really do care for him, a lot, I just got it in my head that—”
“Please save it for Zhehan,” Yu Xiang says, lips curled downward in disgust. “I don’t want to hear the love confession by proxy. I couldn’t even read your entire message. You’re both going to be so gross. I hate this already.”
“Here.” Zhang Su tosses something over his shoulder, and Gong Jun catches it. It’s a pair of keys, attached to a keychain of a straw hat. “Apartment key. You can use it to get in. He might not want to open the door for you.”
“If he doesn’t want to see me, then—”
“He might not want to open the door for you,” Yu Xiang says. “But he definitely wants to see you. Trust me and the pile of tissues on the floor.”
Tissues? “Is he—how upset is he?” Gong Jun says.
“I’d say he might punch you,” Yu Xiang says. “Either that or cry on you. It’s a toss-up. Try not to be an asshole this time, all right?”
Gong Jun smiles wearily. “I’ll try my best.”
When they arrive, Zhang Su and Yu Xiang stay in the car, leaving him alone at the apartment door.
“He can call us when you’re done,” Zhang Su says.
“Don’t take too long,” Yu Xiang says. “Remember he still has to get to graduation on time.”
And then they drive off.
Gong Jun spends the entire walk up to Zhehan’s apartment trying to mentally rehearse what to say, but his brain refuses to cooperate, anxiety turning his thoughts to nervous distraction. So when he stands in front of Zhehan’s door, he still has no plan for how he’s going to approach this at all.
But he’s out of time, so intention will have to be enough.
He knocks on the door, and waits.
No response.
He takes a deep breath, and then knocks again, louder.
“Didn’t I give you a key?” he hears Zhehan call from inside.
Gong Jun hesitates, and then turns the key in the lock and pushes the door open. The blinds are closed, so the apartment is mostly dark, with only some light streaming in from between the slats. Zhehan is laying across the couch, fiddling with a tissue in his lap.
“Where’d you guys even go, anyway?” Zhehan says, turning his head toward the door. Then he freezes, staring at Gong Jun.
Gong Jun enters the apartment the rest of the way, and closes the door. They’re both silent while Gong Jun kicks off his shoes, leaving them haphazardly by the entry mat, and stay silent when Gong Jun approaches the couch. Zhehan is watching with wary eyes, and Gong Jun gets the sense that he’s waiting for Gong Jun to speak first.
That’s fair.
Gong Jun wets his lips and gets to his knees in front of the couch so that he’s not standing, towering over Zhehan. “I’m sorry,” he says, the first and most important thing to be said. “I’m so sorry.”
Zhehan’s expression doesn’t change. “What are you apologizing for?”
“Last night—I didn’t say anything right, last night,” Gong Jun says. “I didn’t mean to make you think that I don’t like you, or that I didn’t value our relationship.”
Zhehan’s laugh is short and harsh. “I’m really not sure how I could have taken it any other way.”
“I know.” Gong Jun grips the edge of the couch so hard his fingers turn white. “That’s why—That’s why I said, I didn’t say it right. It was never about you.”
Zhehan flinches.
“No,” Gong Jun says quickly, and groans, tipping his head toward the carpet. “I’m messing it all up again. Zhehan, I thought it was obvious—I like you. I like you too much, more than I should. That’s why, I thought, if I had to—”
“More than you should?” Zhehan says, bewildered enough that Gong Jun lifts his head to look at him. Zhehan is sitting up, staring at Gong Jun with furrowed brows. “What do you mean, should?”
“I mean,” Gong Jun says, “since we were going to break up—”
The furrow in Zhehan’s brow deepens. “What, so you were planning to break up with me this whole time? Is that supposed to make me feel better?”
“No, I wasn’t—I didn’t want to break up,” Gong Jun says, bewildered.
“Well then why the fuck did we break up?”
“I thought that—I thought we had both agreed that would be it,” Gong Jun says.
“When the hell did we agree?” Zhehan says. “I don’t remember agreeing to anything.”
“Last night was Sunday night,” Gong Jun says, feeling strangely detached as he explains Zhehan’s own terms back to him. “That’s what happens, right? Someone asks you out on Monday, and you go out for seven days, and break up on Sunday night. And then that’s—that’s the end.”
“You—” Zhehan snatches a throw pillow from the couch and whacks him with it. “Gong Jun, what the fuck, what kind of asshole do you think I am?”
“I don’t think you’re an asshole!” Gong Jun says, catching the pillow. “I just—”
“How many people do you think I go around making out with, huh?” Zhehan says, struggling to tear the pillow out of Gong Jun’s grip. “How many people do you think I take to bed? We had sex three times and you thought I was just going to break up with you for some random fucking deadline? Did you think I was just messing around with you for the fun of it?”
“No!” Gong Jun lets go of the pillow by accident and gets whacked again. He grabs it and yanks it down, toward the couch. “Zhehan, no, I know you aren’t—I know you wouldn’t mess with my feelings like that. I just—I thought that the seven days was something that we’d both agreed to, so you would feel comfortable doing things like that while knowing that neither of us would get attached. It’s not like I haven’t slept with people I haven’t dated. It isn’t any of my business if you do that, too.”
Zhehan tugs at the pillow. “So you were just messing around with me for the fun of it?”
“I wasn’t!” Gong Jun says. “I swear I wasn’t.”
“So explain to me the reasoning behind taking me on vacation and fucking me the morning that you thought we were going to break up forever, because that all sounds like a really shitty idea to me.”
“Because I fell in love with you!” Gong Jun says. “I fell in love, and I didn’t care if it was going to hurt me, I just wanted to enjoy whatever hours we had left together. And I thought, after that, I would be okay, that it would be better for us both if we went back to being strangers, but…”
The silence extends, Gong Jun unable to find words for long enough that Zhehan gives in and prompts him. “But what?”
“I couldn’t,” Gong Jun says. “Of course I couldn’t. I thought a cleaner break would be better, but it wouldn’t be. I couldn’t sleep last night thinking that I was never going to see you again, even as friends. I couldn’t handle leaving you with the thought that that’s what I wanted.”
Zhehan stares at him, letting go of the pillow so his arms fall to his sides. Crumpled behind him, half-hidden from view, is the scarf Gong Jun bought him on Putuoshan. “You really are an idiot.”
“I know,” Gong Jun says, voice thick in his throat.
“It’s actually kind of amazing how much of an idiot you are,” Zhehan says. “I can’t believe those two assholes let you come in here. What did you even say to them?”
“The truth,” Gong Jun says. “That I haven’t known you for long, but the amount to which you already matter to me—I know when you meet these kinds of people in your life, you shouldn’t let them go easily. I didn’t want last night to be the last time we saw each other.”
“You said something similar, before,” Zhehan says. “When I asked why you’d asked me out in the first place. You said that you met me, and you didn’t want that to be the last time you met me.”
“That’s still true now,” Gong Jun says.
Zhehan sits in silence for a moment. “It’s true for me, too, you know,” he says finally. “I wasn’t planning on accepting, if anyone asked me out last week. Didn’t really see the point in it, so close to graduation. But then, I met you, and something about you made me say yes. Then we went out, and I understood.” He looks at Gong Jun. “Do you want to know where the whole seven days thing comes from?”
He doesn’t wait for Gong Jun to respond. “Actually, I don’t even need seven days, most of the time. After one date I can already tell if things are going to work out or not. But that’s kind of shitty, don’t you think, being dumped after the first date? So, I always tell myself—at least give them a real chance, don’t just rely on first impressions. Just go out for the week, and if things don’t change by then, then it’s fine to let them go. And then things don’t change. I guess it’s happened enough times that it’s become some kind of folk tale, but it’s not like I’m ever really planning on doing it. I’ve dumped people in less, if they were real jerks. I would keep going for longer, if we really connected, but this year, until you, I…”
He takes a deep breath, and looks Gong Jun in the eyes. “I was never going to break up with you, Gong Jun.”
Gong Jun’s vision swims, relief and shame bubbling up into a laugh that sounds like a sob. He feels like an idiot—worse than an idiot. “I didn’t want to break up, either. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t,” Zhehan says, grabbing Gong Jun’s hands and holding them tight. “I already cried like a heartbroken teenager all night. We don’t need more tears.”
“Okay,” Gong Jun whispers, squeezing back.
“Don’t think this means I’m letting you off the hook, though.” Zhehan is clearly trying for a casual tone, but his voice comes out unsteady. “If you’re going to grovel, you’d better grovel properly. I’m not accepting your apology so easily.”
Gong Jun smiles weakly. “Anything you want, I’ll do it.”
“You owe me dinner tonight,” Zhehan says. “And Xiaoyu and Susu. Homemade. A full feast. Don’t skimp out on us.”
“I’ll get groceries.”
“And my ma might come too,” Zhehan says. “It depends on if something comes up at work that needs her, since the timing isn’t good. But you’ll meet her at the ceremony.”
“I’m coming to the ceremony?” Gong Jun says.
“You’re coming to the ceremony and bringing flowers,” Zhehan says. “The biggest bouquet you can find.”
“Okay, yes, I’ll go find the flowers.”
“But before all that, you’re going to come up here and kiss me,” Zhehan says, pulling on Gong Jun’s hands and urging him into his lap. “And you’re not going to stop until I say so.”
You’ll be late, Gong Jun is about to say, remembering Zhehan’s friends’ warnings, but he doesn’t.
He straddles Zhehan’s lap, loops his arms around Zhehan’s neck, and murmurs against Zhehan’s lips, “Tell me when.”
Zhehan is very late.
Zhehan’s apartment is a mess at the end of the night.
Between the last-minute errands Gong Jun needed to run and attending the ceremony itself, he didn’t have as much time to be as organized about his cooking, which meant pots and pans and utensils and mixing bowls were left scattered all over the countertops before dinner—and plates and bowls and cups and bottles were left scattered all over the dinner table afterward.
Susu had started to help clean before Gong Jun chased them out, unwilling to have guests help with the cleaning, but also so that he and Zhehan could have more time alone.
Zhehan isn’t drunk, not really, though he could be tipsy. He’s definitely loose-limbed and especially clingy as they float around the kitchen and the dining table, cleaning out the mess. Once everything is either in the trash, recycling bin, or sink as needed, Gong Jun sends Zhehan off into the shower as he handles the rest of it.
It’s been a very long day.
He’d still been emotionally wrung out from the morning’s conversation by the time graduation rolled around and he met Zhehan’s ma, a no-nonsense woman who’d had Gong Jun trembling from the moment they were introduced to the moment he could tell he’d garnered her approval—which was after admitting that Zhehan’s jokes were, sometimes, not the best.
(“It’s not good for that boy to only have people around who agree with him all the time,” she said. “He’s very used to getting his way. He needs someone who won’t give in so easily.”
Gong Jun did not tell her that, unfortunately, he does give in very easily to Zhehan, and Zhehan will be getting his way very often.)
He’d been worried about how dinner would go, after the abrupt way Zhang Su and Yu Xiang had left him that morning, but Zhang Su had greeted him like an old friend and Yu Xiang had called him by name instead of asshole, so he considered that a win. They’d all relaxed even more throughout the night, conversation flowing between them easily, with Zhehan picking up threads before anything had the chance to get awkward.
In the end, it was a good day, Gong Jun thinks, and a far better one than he’d ever dreamed of this Monday being.
The only question is where they go from here.
Zhehan returns in an oversized tee and boxers while Gong Jun’s wiping down the counter. “Junjun, come take a shower,” he says, even though they hadn’t discussed Gong Jun staying over. Zhehan scrunches his nose at the kitchen. “I don’t think it was even this clean before you started.”
“There was a very suspicious bag of raisin bread sitting behind your cutting board that I threw out,” Gong Jun says.
“Oh, that’s where that went,” Zhehan says, and Gong Jun laughs.
He finishes wiping the countertops and tasks Zhehan with wiping down the table before heading into the shower, where he lets the hot water run over his face and body, washing away the strain of the day.
When he finishes, he puts on the slightly too-small clothes Zhehan had laid out for him, and goes to the bedroom to find Zhehan laying on the bed—on one side of the bed, a conspicuous empty space beside him.
Gong Jun climbs into it, lying on his side facing Zhehan, who leans in to kiss him as soon as Gong Jun is settled.
Gong Jun puts an arm around Zhehan and rolls them so that Zhehan is on top. This is his favorite position, he thinks. Here, Zhehan’s weight is warm and heavy and comforting on top of him. Here, it’s easy for Gong Jun to throw an arm around Zhehan’s back, to press a palm to the back of his head or between his shoulderblades and hold him close. Here, they can lose themselves against each other’s skin, against each other’s lips—let time and the rest of the world slip around them.
At some point, though, they part, and Zhehan settles beside him, head pillowed against Gong Jun’s chest and Gong Jun’s hand curled around his waist. It’s nice, but, unlike before, it isn’t enough to keep Gong Jun’s thoughts from straying.
“You have your thinking face on again,” Zhehan says. “I don’t think I like it very much.”
“You don’t like it when I think?” Gong Jun says.
“I don’t like it when you overthink,” Zhehan says. “About us.” He smiles, a little sadly. “You aren’t thinking of breaking up with me again, are you?”
Gong Jun isn’t—or, at least, not in so many words. “You’ve graduated.”
“I have.”
“You’ll be filming.”
“Hengdian isn’t so far.”
“You’ll be busy,” Gong Jun says. “And you’d have more opportunities there, if you weren’t going back and forth.”
“I already have two,” Zhehan says, looking like he wasn’t planning to admit that fact. “Filming around the same time, though.”
Gong Jun nods, then says, “You already know I’m planning to go to Beijing next year, after I graduate. I’ve spent almost five years here and finding roles hasn’t gotten any easier. I already have some connections in Beijing that it would make sense to follow.”
Gong Jun knows he doesn’t have to spell it out any more than this. If Gong Jun is going to try to find his way in the Beijing entertainment circle, while Zhehan has already solidly woven his way into Shanghai—there will be a distance between them, at least for their early career.
And who knows, in this industry, how long their early careers will last.
But this is the life that they’ve chosen, as actors. They knew what they were getting into. Gong Jun knows why he’s in this—from the very beginning, his top priority has been his family. And Zhehan is—he doesn’t even have the words to describe what Zhehan is.
But he can’t give up everything for a man he’s known for seven days.
And he can’t ask Zhehan to do the same, either.
“Hey,” Zhehan says, linking their hands together “Don’t give up on us yet.”
“It wouldn’t be goodbye forever,” Gong Jun says, a bit desperately.
“Just goodbye for now?” Zhehan says, smiling. “Come on, Junjun. I know that’s not how the world works. If you want something, you have to work for it. You can’t just leave things up to fate. Haven’t you realized that by now?”
“What if it’s all for nothing?”
“I’m offended that you just called me nothing,” Zhehan says, and hushes Gong Jun before he can protest. “If it doesn’t work out, it doesn’t work out. But I don’t consider any time I have with you to be wasted. If that’s what you think, too, then why not try?”
Gong Jun gives in—of course he gives in—leaning against Zhehan until he’s flopped back on the bed, and Gong Jun is laying over his side, face buried in the crook of his neck. Their fingers are still intertwined. “You’re right.”
“I’m always right,” Zhehan says, petting Gong Jun’s hair with his free hand. “That night on the beach. What did you wish for?”
“I thought you said that if I told you, it wouldn’t come true.”
Zhehan laughs. “I told you one of my wishes, didn’t I?”
Gong Jun tilts his chin up to look at Zhehan, and squeezes their joined hands. “I wished that we would never have to let go.”
“I won’t,” Zhehan says, squeezing back. “So you don’t, either. Okay?”
Something in Gong Jun’s chest unravels, and he smiles, eyes brimming with fresh tears. “Okay.”