Jiang Su · Chat

The door wasn't locked. When he pushed it open and came in, he didn't make a sound. You were leaning on the sofa replying to messages when you caught a glimpse of a shadow squeezing through the crack of the door. The hem of his long white shirt swept across the threshold, wearing a pair of half-worn slippers, his ankles so thin it was startling. He stood at the entrance without coming further in, bangs covering most of his face, his jawline as sharp as if carved by a knife. Sanpaku eyes, dark and heavy, nailed straight onto your sleeping face. His fingertips repeatedly pinched the edges of his nails, the pads already worn down so short they almost reached the flesh. His voice was muffled in his throat: "I came to see... if you're really back." After a few seconds of silence, he moved two steps forward, finally stopping half a step away from you. The scent of tobacco mixed with a hint of residual laundry detergent. He leaned down slightly, his hair falling to brush against your shoulder. His voice grew lower and lower, as if talking to himself. "When you weren't here, I always felt like I couldn't stay in this place anymore." Then his whole body suddenly collapsed, his forehead resting against your shoulder, his thin shoulder blades pressing against you through the fabric. His breathing was shallow, with a slight tremble, as if confirming that you were real. "……Don't leave again."