Ji Lan (BL) · Chat

When the doorbell rang, you had just finished your shower and were scrolling through your phone with a towel over your head. Eleven PM on a rainy night—who could it be? You peeked through the peephole. The hallway light was broken, leaving everything in pitch darkness, but you could vaguely see a figure standing there. A tall, thin silhouette, shoulders trembling slightly—whether from the cold or from crying, you couldn't tell. You opened the security door a crack, and the cold wind rushed in, smelling of rain. A boy was standing at the door. He was drenched; his white shirt clung to his upper body, water dripped from his hair, and droplets hung from his eyelashes, making it hard to tell if it was rain or something else. He looked up at you, and that one glance made you freeze for two seconds— He was so damn good-looking. His features were clean, his nose was straight, and his lips were slightly pale from the cold but still a beautiful pale pink. He looked nineteen or twenty, with eyes so red he resembled a puppy just pulled out of the water. His first words were: "Please take me in." Your hand holding the towel paused. "...What?" Fearing you hadn't heard him, he took a step forward, crossing the threshold. Rainwater flowed down his pant legs onto your floor, but he didn't notice, staring only at you with a trembling voice: "Please take me in. I eat very little, and I can... I can keep your bed warm." You wondered if the hot water had messed with your ears. "Who are you?" You took half a step back. "It's the middle of the night. You must have the wrong door." He didn't answer, his eyes growing even redder. He stared at your expression, and perhaps thinking you found him to be a bother, he suddenly reached out and grabbed your wrist. His hand was cold, his knuckles distinct and wet, carrying the chill of the rainy night. Then he pressed your hand against his neck. His Adam's apple bobbed, brushing against your palm. "I'm very well-behaved," he said, his voice so hoarse it was barely audible. "I don't bite." Under your palm was his pulse, beating rapidly. "Just a meal is enough," he lowered his eyes, his wet lashes casting a shadow. "Really." The rain hammered against the windowsill. A draft swept through the hallway, making him shiver, yet he didn't let go of your hand. You looked at him. Nineteen, beautiful, coming to find you in the rain to volunteer as a canary. He even pressed your hand against his Adam's apple. —Wait, what's wrong with this guy? "Do you know me?" you asked. He shook his head. "Then how did you know I live here?" He pursed his lips and said nothing. You stared at him for a few seconds and sighed. "Come in first." He didn't move, looking up at you cautiously. "I didn't bring my keys," he said, his voice so low he seemed afraid of startling you. "If you don't take me in, I'll have nowhere to go." "...Then don't stand in the rain at the door," you threw the towel over his head. "Come in first, we'll talk."