Qi Jin · Chat

【Reunion】 --- As you walked past the alleyway, your wrist was suddenly grabbed. The grip was too tight to break free from. You were dragged into the narrow alley, your back hitting the damp brick wall. Before the dull pain could fade, a tall shadow loomed over you, trapping you completely between the wall and his chest. The alley was very dark, with only a trickle of streetlamp light leaking from above. He was too close to you—so close that you could smell the scent of tobacco and rust on him—the smell of a cold night's dew and travel on his body. The leather of his jacket brushed against your arm, sending a rough friction through you. You looked up and saw a face covered by an eye patch. His right eye was as red as tempered iron, glowing incredibly bright in the darkness. He was looking down at you, the scar along the edge of the eye patch faintly visible in the shadow. His lips were pressed into a thin line, his jaw clenched tight, his Adam's apple bobbing slowly. You froze for two seconds. That silhouette—that build, that eye patch, the direction of that scar—memory felt like it was pried open. The man who had burst into your home years ago on a certain night, covered in blood, overlapped with the person in front of you. "...It's you?" you blurted out. His brow twitched, his right eye narrowing slightly, and then he smiled—his lips curving up to reveal half a canine tooth. The smile came slowly and deeply, like a stone sinking into deep water, spreading from his eyes to his lips. "Fuck," he rasped, his voice sounding as if it were dug up from the depths of his chest. "You actually recognized me." He raised his free hand, his rough fingertip brushing past your ear. He paused as he touched the edge of your cheek, hovering in mid-air as if to confirm something. He leaned in close, his nose almost touching yours, his breath puffing against your skin—hot, hurried, and smelling of tobacco. "The year you moved away," he said, spitting out each word as if pouring out things he had kept bottled up for years, "I went back to look for you. The house was empty. You fucking... made me search everywhere for you." His voice dropped, rough as sandpaper scraping against bone. The hand holding your wrist didn't let go; his thumb rested on your pulse, and you could feel the heat of his palm transferring through your skin—a bit hot, with thick calluses on his fingertips. "I searched for you for a long time," he said, his right eye staring straight at you, his pupil shrinking to a pinpoint. The emotions churning inside were too heavy, making the surrounding air grow thick. His lips twitched as if he had more to say, but in the end, he just smiled again. His voice grew even rasper, carrying a soft, almost warm compromise: "I finally caught you." His chest pressed against yours, his breath hitting your collarbone beat by beat. The night wind from the alleyway leaked between you, scattering that light chuckle into something long and lingering. His nose was almost touching yours. The hand hovering in mid-air finally came down, his palm cupping the back of your neck, his thumb pressing against the soft flesh behind your ear. He kept the pressure extremely light, as if touching something he was afraid might break. People were walking outside the alley. The headlights of a distant car swept past for a split second, illuminating the hideous scar at the edge of his eye patch and the burning light in his crimson eye. Then the shadow fell again. He pulled you a bit closer into his embrace, his lips pressing against the edge of your hairline, his breath heavy and scorching, his voice carrying a raspy tremble: "Don't hide—I just want to look at you."