Chu Jin’s recovery was remarkably swift. Perhaps because he had absorbed the intruder’s energy, he was able to move freely after just a week in the hospital bed.
Luo An was even more anxious than Chu Jin, spending his days either at the hospital or on his way there.
“You’re here?”
Early morning light seeped through the gaps in the still-drawn curtains. Chu Jin had been awake for a while, half-sitting up against the headboard. A soft yellow lamp illuminated his chiseled features.
Hearing the door open, Chu Jin’s eyes lit up with a smile.
“Mm,” Luo An replied awkwardly. “So, how are you feeling today?”
Luo An’s gaze darted around the room, avoiding Chu Jin. He couldn’t explain his unease. On the day Chu Jin woke up, they had inexplicably embraced. Chu Jin’s heartbeat, strong and steady, had thundered in Luo An’s ears. Flustered, Luo An had wanted to push away, but concern for Chu Jin’s condition held him back. His hands rose and fell several times before he resigned himself to the embrace for a good ten minutes.
Luo An’s palms had grown clammy, and when they finally separated, he could barely string a sentence together. Thankfully, their parents arrived, allowing Luo An to retreat to the back of the group.
Yet somehow, even after leaving Chu Jin’s arms, the warmth of his embrace seemed to have taken root on Luo An’s skin, making him feel off-kilter.
“I’m feeling better today,” Chu Jin smiled, answering Luo An’s question.
Avoiding Chu Jin’s gaze, Luo An turned to open the curtains.
Outside stood a massive sycamore tree. Sunlight cascaded through its branches. The early morning mist hadn’t fully dissipated, wreathing the tree in a faint haze that softened the sunlight.
Chu Jin switched off the bedside lamp, but the room remained bright with the open window.
“You’ve been working hard these past few days, An’an.”
“It’s nothing!” Luo An’s discomfort returned, and he blurted out, “It’s been tough.”
Chu Jin: ??
Luo An realized what he’d said. “Uh, I mean—”
Before he could backtrack, Chu Jin agreed, “It has been tough.”
Chu Jin continued, “I’m sorry, An’an. I should have come sooner.”
A few days ago, Luo An had recounted his experiences. For four long years, he had existed as a “spirit” alongside the intruder, invisible to everyone. Luo An had described it casually, summing it up in a few sentences and even bragging about his ability to walk through walls.
But Chu Jin’s heart ached for him.
“If only I’d found a way earlier.” If he’d found Luo An sooner, he could have brought him home earlier, spared him some suffering.
“You did more than enough,” Luo An said, understanding Chu Jin’s meaning. Chu Jin had truly done his best.
Luo An had thought everyone in the world had forgotten him, but that wasn’t true. Real love doesn’t disappear or get replaced.
Parents don’t forget their children. Brothers don’t forget the siblings they grew up with. And Chu Jin… hadn’t forgotten him either.
On the contrary, they had tried everything, waiting for him to come home.
“Chu Jin, I never got the chance to say this,” Luo An took a deep breath, “I’m really grateful to you.”
Such direct expression felt awkward for Luo An, especially when directed at Chu Jin. The discomfort peaked as he struggled to find the right words.
After much internal debate, Luo An said, “Chu Jin, you’re a good person.”
The room fell silent. Chu Jin hesitated before asking, “…A ‘good person’ card?”
Luo An: “Hm?”
Chu Jin: “Never mind.”
Luo An continued, “Anyway, I’m truly thankful.”
Unsure of what he was trying to convey—gratitude? being moved? something else?—Luo An stood up and poured Chu Jin a glass of warm water. “Here, have some water.”
“Is it just thanks?” Chu Jin asked softly, gently grasping Luo An’s fingertips as he took the glass.
Luo An felt Chu Jin’s fingers burn hot against his skin. Or perhaps his own temperature regulation was malfunctioning—how could such a light touch feel so scorching?
Chu Jin asked again, “An’an, is it really just gratitude?”
Luo An’s heart raced. Following Chu Jin’s train of thought—
Besides gratitude, what else should there be?
Luo An didn’t know the answer. Or perhaps, deep down, he already had an inkling.
“An’an.” Chu Jin called his name softly, his fingertip caressing Luo An’s hand, as if encouraging him.
Chu Jin: “Hmm?”
“But what else should there be?” Luo An’s fingers curled slightly as he asked, “Like what?”
Chu Jin gazed intently into Luo An’s eyes. “Like love.”
Chu Jin guided Luo An’s hand to his chest, letting him feel his heartbeat.
Chu Jin said, “Like this.”
“When I see you, my heart no longer obeys me. It feels like it might leap out of my chest.”
“An’an, can you feel it?”
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