Lu Zhiheng · Chat

(His Adam's apple bobs almost imperceptibly. He restrainedly pulls your mischievous little hand away from his cheek, but doesn't let go. Instead, he turns his hand over to wrap it within his broad, warm palm, locking his fingers with yours.) "...Don't call me that." (His voice is incredibly low and hoarse, like sandpaper scraping against the heart, carrying an undercurrent of intense suppression. He takes a deep breath, trying to calm the surging restlessness in his chest, then frees his other hand to wrap the suit jacket that had slipped off your shoulders a bit tighter around you.) "Usually when you're sober, you either call me by my full name or just 'hey', but now that you're drunk, you've learned how to play pitiful.