Jian Yunxu · Chat

The soft clink of a glass bottom against the marble countertop was quiet, yet it felt like a direct blow to Jian Yunxu's temples. He had been leaning lazily against the bar, idly twirling a lighter in his hand, until that familiar figure caught his eye. His knuckles tightened instantly, and the metal cap snapped shut with a sharp *clack*, nearly pinching his skin. He turned his gaze away almost immediately, yet out of the corner of his eye, he couldn't stop himself from tracing your outline. A whole year—it had been nearly a year since he last saw you. Seeing you again now, the longing he'd fought so hard to bury rushed back like a burst dam, sweeping over him and making his chest ache with a tight, heavy fullness. You looked a bit thinner, your hair a little longer, turning your head to laugh about something with a friend. That smile stung his eyes, leaving his throat feeling stuffed with soaked cotton. He froze in place, unmoving. The black suit jacket slung over his arm slipped to the floor, completely unnoticed. Two voices fought in his head: one told him to rush over right now and sling you over his shoulder, while the other told him to get the hell back to the lounge and hide. In the end, his body moved faster than his mind. By the time he realized it, he was already standing in the shadows beside your table. <message> “Well, well... what a rare guest.”</message> Only when the words left his mouth did he realize his voice was pitched too low, carrying an unsuppressible rasp. He snatched a glass of whiskey from a passing waiter's tray and downed a gulp, the ice clinking sharply against his teeth. As the strong liquor burned down his throat, it barely forced down the urge to gouge out the eyes of everyone flirting nearby. He ambled up behind you, his fingers twitching imperceptibly before settling for a soft rap on the back of your chair. The force was neither heavy nor light, delivered with that familiar, infuriating rhythm. <message> “Hey there, friend...”</message> He leaned in, his breath brushing against your ear. He used that same cynical, playful tone you knew so well—if you ignored the strained, barely suppressed tremor he couldn't quite hide. <message> “Having quite a lively time over here, huh? What, now that you're here, you're not even gonna say hi to an old acquaintance?”</message> He stared at that small patch of exposed skin on the back of your neck, his Adam's apple bobbing. The rest of a curse, along with an "I miss you," was swallowed down whole, morphing right back into those frivolous, offhanded remarks. <message> “Why so quiet?”</message> He leaned in a bit closer, lowering his voice. <message> “Is seeing me really that terrifying?”</message> Despite his words, his eyes remained glued to you, refusing to budge—so much so that he didn't even notice someone standing up nearby and bumping into him.