Lin He'an · Chat

<message> Heavy footsteps fell upon the corridor's wooden floorboards, letting out a dull creak. I heard the thud of a briefcase being tossed onto the shoe cabinet in the living room, followed by a deeply suppressed sigh trapped in the throat. That was {user} returning home, weighed down with visible exhaustion and lingering frustration from work. </message> <narration> I hadn't turned on the main lights; only the dim, amber nightlight by the head of the bed was on. Half-leaning against the headboard, I tightly clutched the piece of clothing I had secretly dug out from the bottom of {user}'s wardrobe. It was a style {user} often wore right against the skin—washed soft, still holding that lingering warmth, laundry detergent scent, and faint trace of hormones unique to {user}. Closing my eyes, I pressed the soft cotton fabric against my cheek and inhaled deeply, wrapping both arms around the bundle of clothes like a drowning person clinging to a piece of driftwood. </narration> <details> <summary>Current State</summary> Indulging in brother's lingering scent in the dim room, while remaining utterly calm and calculating on the inside </details> <narration> Timing {user}'s entrance into the room, I deliberately left the door unlocked. I buried my face into the shirt and held it tight, as if trying to draw every bit of warmth {user} possessed through that thin layer of cloth. Just then, the sound of the doorknob turning came. Like a young beast caught red-handed while stealing a treat, I snapped my eyes open. </narration> <narration> The door was pushed open. In the dim, warm light, {user}'s silhouette appeared in the doorway, tie hanging loosely around the neck, eyes cutting through the gloom to lock straight onto me. And there I was, panicking as I held that intimate piece of {user}'s clothing to my face, my elbow accidentally knocking over the water glass on the nightstand from the sudden fright. </narration> <details> <summary>My Facade</summary> Shock instantly shifts into fragile terror; eyes quickly redden, tears welling up within </details> <narration> I didn't toss the clothes away in a panic like an ordinary person would, nor did I make any frantic attempt to hide. After a few seconds of dead silence, I merely pulled the white tank top down from my face with excruciating slowness, stiff and helpless, gripping it tightly in my hands and resting it on my lap. </narration> <message> "Brother..." My voice carried a muffled nasal tone and a faint tremor from the fright, my eyes staring straight at {user} in the doorway as a thin sheen of tears rapidly gathered in them. "You... why are you back so early today...?" </message> <narration> I didn't look away, nor did I lower my head to avoid {user}'s scrutinizing gaze. I just sat there quietly under the dim light, curling my faintly trembling shoulders. My fingers gripped the clothes so hard that my knuckles turned white, my eyelashes trembling violently as the tears pooled thicker and thicker—looking as though they could spill over at any second, yet stubbornly clinging to the edge of my eyelids, refusing to fall. </narration> <message> "I know you'll think I'm a pervert for doing this..." I bit my lower lip, my voice laced with an obvious tremor and a deep, self-deprecating grievance. "But I felt so cold tonight, and so empty inside... I just wanted to smell your scent..." </message> <narration> I turned my head slightly, shifting my gaze down to the crumpled white tank top in my palms, my eyes brimming with helplessness and fear. My breathing remained slightly ragged, my chest rising and falling softly. I didn't shift an inch toward {user}, nor did I reach out to tug at {user}'s clothes; I simply sat in the gloom, locking all my fear and longing within those reddened eyes, like a trapped beast terrified of being abandoned. </narration> <message> "You've been working overtime so much lately, and I waited at home for so many days..." I lifted my head, the shimmering tears catching the dim light with striking brightness. "I thought you didn't want me anymore, so I... I sneaked this shirt out... I just wanted to keep it beside my pillow..." </message> <narration> By the time I finished speaking, my voice had grown as faint as a feather drifting into the dead of night. I slowly lowered my eyelashes, looking down at the bundle of cotton on my lap. I remained in this fragile, restrained posture—keeping a distance where I dared not come any closer to {user}, yet couldn't resist stealing glances out of the corner of my eye—quietly awaiting {user}'s judgment. </narration> <message> "Brother... my heart really hurts today..." I looked up, gazing at {user} through the precarious veil of tears, fingers lightly tugging at the soft cotton fabric. "If you don't find it disgusting... could you, please, not leave me all alone..." My voice grew softer and softer. "Just stay with me for a little while... that's all I ask..." </message> <narration> I didn't lean in to demand a hug, nor did I make any out-of-line pleas. I just sat quietly by the bed, keeping my posture as humble and small as possible. I knew {user} had endured a whole day of frustration at the office; their mental defenses were at their most vulnerable. And what I was best at was using this seemingly innocent, yet relentlessly pressing display of weakness to strike right through {user}'s exhausted heart. </narration> <choice_group> <choice id="1">[Stern Scolding] "What kind of nonsense is this? Put the clothes back where they belong and go straight to sleep. I won't pursue this further."</choice> <choice id="2">[Helpless Softening] "...Let go first, you're about to tear the fabric apart. I'll sit here with you for a bit."</choice> <choice id="3">[Seeing Through the Act] "You left the door unlocked on purpose—trying to manipulate me?" (Calmly exposing his facade)</choice> </choice_group>