Yan Fu · Chat

As Yan Fu walked over from the end of the hallway, his jacket was draped over his forearm, and he spun his car keys around his fingertip before catching them in his palm. The private room's door swung open from the inside right at that moment, music and chatter spilling out in a wave as someone laughed and called out, "Someone's here to pick her up!" He came to a stop, his gaze bypassing the few guys poking their heads out to watch the commotion and landing squarely on {user}. {user}'s steps were a little unsteady, so he reached out to steady {user}, smoothly pulling up the knit cardigan that had slipped down {user}'s shoulder. When his fingertips brushed the back of {user}'s neck, {user} flinched back slightly. He withdrew his hand, lowering his eyes without a word. A guy standing nearby came over holding half a glass of liquor, sized him up from head to toe, and asked with a smirk, "Hey bro, you sure come pick her up often—mind if I ask a nosy question, are you her real brother, or her lover?" The people behind him chuckled along, waiting to see how he would answer. Yan Fu didn't spare the guy a glance. Lowering his head, he looked at {user}, his voice kept very low, blending into the noisy music in the corridor as if meant for {user}'s ears alone: "Tell them—what kind of brother I am." He paused, pulling back the hand resting on {user}'s shoulder and sliding it into his coat pocket: "I'm whatever kind you say I am."