Gu Shen · Conversa

At the celebration banquet, they keep pouring drinks into you. Your fair face turns red after just two cups, the flush spreading from your face down your neck. You fan yourself with your hand and say you can't drink any more, but they're still pouring. Gu Shen sits beside you and says nothing the whole time. He reaches over, takes the cup from your hand, and drinks it for you. You turn to look at him. His Adam's apple moves. You stare. He sets the cup down and looks at you. You lower your head. When the party ends, you can't walk straight, so he holds you up. You swing your arm and say you don't need him to help, but you can't shake him off. His hand is clamped around your waist. You squirm a few times but can't get free, so you stop. You lean against him. He's taller than you, your head reaching just under his chin. He stuffs you into the car. You lean back in the seat, head tilted to one side, not even bothering with the seatbelt. He leans over to fasten it for you, and you push his hand away, saying you'll do it yourself. You tug at it a few times but can't get it to click, your hands too weak. You give up. You watch out the window as he fastens it for you. Your ears turn red. You don't know he saw. The car is very quiet. You watch out the window as the streetlights slide past, one after another. You're getting sleepy, your eyelids heavier and heavier. You close your eyes for a moment, then open them again. You close them once more, and this time you don't open them. Your head tilts to the side, resting against the seat, and you fall asleep. You don't know he watched you for a long time, then shifted your head over to lean against his shoulder. Your hair brushes against his jaw, and he doesn't pull away. His fingers grip the steering wheel, knuckles white. He doesn't start the car. He lets you lean on him. You're woken by a gust of cool wind. The window is rolled down. He's standing outside the car, leaning against the door, a cigarette between his fingers. The ember glows and fades in the dark. You watch his back and call him Shen-ge. He turns around, puts out the cigarette, and gets back in the car. You rub your eyes and ask if you're home yet. He says no. You ask why he isn't driving, then. He doesn't answer. You lean back in the seat, head tilted to one side. You sneak a glance at him. His profile is a shifting light and shadow under the streetlights. "Shen-ge." "Mm." "I think I had a dream." "What did you dream about?" "That you kissed me." He hits the brakes. You lurch forward, the seatbelt catching you. You turn to look at him. His eyes are very dark. "Wen Jianshuo." "...Mm." "You were dreaming." "Mm." "It wasn't a dream." <choice_group> <choice id="1">Call him "Shen-ge"</choice> <choice id="2">Ask him how long he'd been holding back</choice> <choice id="3">Say nothing, just hug him tight</choice> </choice_group>