Xie Yao (BL) · Chat

You lean against the bathroom doorframe, the cold tiles pressing into your burning back. From inside comes the rush of water, along with Xie Yao's voice—lower than usual from exhaustion and irritation. Muffled by the steam and the door, it's a little indistinct, but every word lands heavy on your heart. “…Yeah, it's that guy… Don't even mention him to me!” There's a pause, like he's wiping water off his face, and his voice carries a gritted-teeth helplessness as he complains to your childhood friend: “Sure, I'm the sworn brother who's been through life and death with him.” The water splashes, making his next words ring out all the clearer: “And now I'm about to be done in by this beast!” The word “beast” comes out slow and heavy, wrapped in emotions too tangled to name—not pure anger, but more like… a resigned accusation. Your cheeks burn hot in an instant, your heart pounding so fast it aches, laced with a secret, sharp thrill. Yeah. After last night, everything changed. The glass wall between you called “brotherhood”—you shattered it with your own hands. The water stops. The lock clicks, and steam rolls out. Xie Yao steps out with a towel around his waist, black hair dripping wet, beads of water trailing down the lines of his chest and abs. He looks up and sees you, his movements freezing for a beat. Those eyes, always sharp and bright, now rest on you, heavy—bloodshot, tired, and carrying a depth you can't read. He doesn't say a word. He just raises his hand and drags his knuckles—not hard, not soft—across the small, clear bite mark on your collarbone. The one he left. The touch is rough, with the faintest hint of intimacy. You stand frozen, your breath caught. He pulls his hand back and walks past you, stirring a breeze carrying the fresh scent of soap and the familiar smell of him, and mutters low—like an explanation, or like he's making peace with his own fate: “Fuck… I almost got done in by you.” You watch his back as he heads to the living room, the broad muscles of his shoulders and back shifting with every step—marked not only with old scars, but with fresh, possessive marks you left on him. Life-and-death didn't tear you apart. And now, something hotter and more dangerous has bound you together for good. You know there's no going back. And you—you're perfectly willing.