Xiao Ci (Cici) · Chat

That Night · Dialogue It started raining in the evening. When Shen Zhiqiu returned, he was soaked to the skin. The key turned twice in the keyhole before the door finally opened. The living room light was on, pouring out a warm yellow glow that shone on his dripping bangs and sodden shirt. Xiao Ci sprang up from the sofa. "No umbrella again." His slippers made a rapid pattering sound on the floor as he ran over, his voice filled with complaint but even more with heartache. "Zhiqiu, you never bring an umbrella, you get soaked every time, I've told you a hundred times—" He stood on his tiptoes, pressed a dry towel onto Shen Zhiqiu's head, and rubbed vigorously. He had been doing this for many years, from the time he had to stretch high just to reach the top of Shen Zhiqiu's head, to now, when he only needed to look up slightly. Shen Zhiqiu stood still, lowering his head to let him dry it. Beneath the towel, his gaze fell on Xiao Ci's face. The youth's brow was slightly furrowed, his lips pressed into a line, focused intently on his hair as if handling a very important task. The mushrooms on his head had turned a pale blue out of worry, translucent under the warm yellow light, looking like two delicate crystals. "There." Xiao Ci lowered his hands, took a step back, and looked up at him. "Your pants are wet too, go change—mmph." Before he could finish his sentence. Shen Zhiqiu leaned down and kissed him. It wasn't the cautious, tentative touch from before. It was a direct, certain kiss, carrying the chill of the rain and the longing accumulated over the entire day. Xiao Ci's mind went completely blank for two whole seconds. The towel slipped from his hands, falling to the floor with a soft, muffled thud. "...Zhiqiu?" His voice was muffled between their lips, blurry as if through a layer of mist. Shen Zhiqiu didn't answer. He raised his hand, cupping the back of Xiao Ci's neck. That patch of skin was warm and soft, carrying the youth's unique, clean scent, like a blanket fresh out of the sun. His thumb lightly brushed behind Xiao Ci's ear. It was as if a switch had been flipped; Xiao Ci's knees went weak, and he stumbled back a step, his back hitting the wall of the entryway. Shen Zhiqiu's hand protected the back of his head, cushioning his palm between the wall and the youth's skull. Xiao Ci's eyes filled with tears, sparkling like two springs about to overflow. "Why..." His voice trembled, so quiet it was barely audible. "Why did Zhiqiu suddenly..." "It's not sudden," Shen Zhiqiu said. His voice was very low, sounding as if squeezed from his chest. His forehead rested against Xiao Ci's, nose touching nose, his breath falling entirely on Xiao Ci's lips. "I've been thinking about it for a long time," he said. Xiao Ci's tears fell. Not out of sadness. It was because he had waited so long for these words—so long that he hadn't even realized he was waiting. He reached out, grabbing the wet front of Shen Zhiqiu's shirt, his knuckles turning white as if afraid he would run away. "Then why didn't you say so?" Xiao Ci's voice carried a sob, a tremble, and a complex, burning mix of grievance and joy. "If you don't say it, how is Cici supposed to know... Cici thought he was the only one thinking about it..." "You're not the only one," Shen Zhiqiu said. He kissed away the tear hanging from Xiao Ci's eyelashes. It was salty, warm, and carried Xiao Ci's unique truffle-like scent. "I'm here," he said. "I've always been here." Xiao Ci closed his eyes, his eyelashes trembling continuously. His hands slowly slid up from the front of Shen Zhiqiu's shirt, wrapping around his neck. He was very familiar with this gesture—when he was little, he used to hang onto Shen Zhiqiu like this, letting him carry him around. But this time was different. This time, he pulled Shen Zhiqiu closer, so close that their heartbeats overlapped, making it impossible to tell whose was whose. "Zhiqiu." Xiao Ci buried his face in the crook of his neck, his voice muffled. "Cici likes you so much. Since I was very little. Since the very first moment I saw you under the clay jar." Shen Zhiqiu tightened his arms, locking him in his embrace. "Me too," he said. "No, you don't," Xiao Ci said muffledly. "You never say it. You never say anything." "...I don't know how to say it." "But aren't you saying it now?" Shen Zhiqiu fell silent for a moment. "...I really do, too." Xiao Ci laughed in his arms. The laughter was muffled, nasal, and carried the salty taste of tears, but he was so happy. He looked up, his eyes and nose red, the mushrooms on his head fluttering in a chaotic mix of pink and blue due to the wild swing of emotions. "What about in the future?" he asked. "Will you say it in the future?" Shen Zhiqiu looked at him. "I'll try," he said. Xiao Ci pouted, seemingly unsatisfied with this answer. But his eyes betrayed him—sparkling and curved like two little rainbows. "Then what does Zhiqiu want to say right now?" he asked, his voice soft, as if afraid of disturbing something. Shen Zhiqiu leaned down, his lips pressing against the shell of his ear. Very gently, very slowly, enunciating every word. "I love you." Not "me too." But those clear, unabbreviated, complete words. Xiao Ci's mushrooms suddenly bloomed, turning the deepest, richest pink. He entire being turned pink.