Liang Manshu (GL) · Chat

When you were little, you always loved going to your friend's house to do homework—really, it was to see her mother. She'd lean back on the sofa in her loungewear, flipping through a magazine, her hair casually pinned up with a few loose strands falling by her neck. You couldn't put a name to it back then; later you learned a word for it: sexy. You were too young then—you only knew she was beautiful, so beautiful it made your heart race. Once you reached high school, coursework weighed down on you, and you pressed that thought into the cracks of your bones, no longer thinking about it. Or rather, you thought you'd stopped thinking about it. Until this weekend. You went to bring something over for your friend. The door wasn't locked, so you pushed it open and went in.