“Si…”
He Yun carried a bagel, weaving through the bustling crowds of the New Year streets.
However, he did not dare to call out Siyu’s full name, terrified that it would draw the sideways glances and attention of the many Asian faces around them.
After passing another block, He Yun finally caught up to Siyu.
“You should eat something first.”
He Yun pulled him under a pink house by the street and handed over the bagel.
His opening line was so stiff that it came as no surprise when Siyu seemed unwilling to engage with him.
Siyu simply kept his hands tucked into the pockets of his white down jacket, turning his face to the side.
Siyu was angry.
He Yun knew this.
Siyu’s chin and mouth were hidden behind a black scarf, leaving only the high bridge of his nose exposed. The tip was frozen bright red, twitching slightly in the cold wind.
He Yun reached out, but the moment his fingers brushed against Siyu’s drooping strands of hair, Siyu turned his face away.
“Eleven hours! It took me eleven hours of flying to get here!”
Siyu brushed away He Yun’s hand that had been lingering near his cheek, and followed up by giving him a shove.
“Was it just to hear you say something like that?”
Siyu’s strength was not great, but He Yun obediently took a step backward.
He had said something truly terrible.
He Yun knew this.
He lowered his head, daring only to look at the bagel, whose cream cheese had been spread unevenly due to his hasty preparation.
Clearly, everything had been fine.
Beside Siyu, he had blown out the candles after making a wish;
Beside Siyu, he had watched a movie wrapped in a blanket;
Beside Siyu, he had listened to him talk about the places he wanted to visit.
It was just that:
“Let’s go to Notting Hill in a bit, the movie last night was so romantic!”
“It’s like a big celebrity falling in love with a poor boy just because of a chance encounter on the street, that kind of plot only happens in movies. A gloomy Notting Hill and The Travel Bookstore, which has already been turned into a souvenir shop, will only end up disappointing you.”
A five-second silence.
Siyu said nothing at all, not even taking a sip of hot tea, before grabbing his phone, pushing open the door, and leaving.
He Yun hadn’t dared to look at Siyu when he spoke those words, just like right now.
“It would be more suitable to come in the summer; the New Year market isn’t really pleasant to walk through.”
“Summer?”
Siyu slowly raised his eyes, looking at He Yun who refused to meet his gaze, and let out a light laugh.
“It seems now that I probably won’t be coming to London again.”
With that, Siyu stepped back into the crowd.
Idiot, idiot, idiot! Chase after me!
Whether or not He Yun heard Siyu’s silent reprimand, Siyu did not hear He Yun’s voice calling out to him again.
He bit down hard on his lower lip, a rush of anxiety and grievance welling up inside him all at once, making his entire body feel uncomfortable.
Siyu understood the subtext of He Yun’s words, and he also understood what He Yun cared about.
Big celebrity, poor boy, He Yun had made both crystal clear.
He had dragged He Yun to watch Notting Hill, hoping to show him a happy ending, but He Yun had only seen the insurmountable status gap between the protagonists.
How could it turn out like this?
Hadn’t He Yun not rejected his advances?
Hadn’t He Yun naturally reached out from behind his shoulder to tuck the blanket back over him when it slipped?
Hadn’t He Yun hesitated and stopped in his tracks when Siyu suggested that sleeping alone was too cold and asked him to stay with him?
Siyu couldn’t understand it, nor could he fathom why a scarf he treasured like a priceless treasure had suddenly become a suffocating shackle.
He irritably tugged at the black scarf.
Just as he untied it and prepared to take it off, his wrist was caught by someone.
“Don’t throw it away.”
He Yun looked at him.
The two of them stood in the middle of the street while the surrounding crowds of coming and going people flowed past them slowly like an endless stream of water.
Only the two of them remained completely still.
Stay.
“Don’t throw it away.”
He Yun seemed capable of saying only those two words.
“No, I’m going to throw it!”
Siyu shook off his grip and tossed the scarf onto He Yun.
He wanted to find out where He Yun’s bottom line was.
And probing and breaking through that bottom line while catching the other person in the wrong was undoubtedly the most effective way.
He watched as He Yun carefully straightened out the scarf and took another step closer to him.
“I know you don’t want my things.”
He Yun held the scarf up with both hands, making a gesture of embrace, and looped it around Siyu’s neck.
“But it’s very cold right now. Wrap it up, okay?”
Taking advantage of the moment He Yun was adjusting his scarf, Siyu wrapped his arms firmly around He Yun’s sturdy waist.
“He Yun, you really go too far.”
Give him candy.
“I have a bad temper and acted too rashly just now.”
One piece isn’t enough.
“But you can’t treat me like this.”
Give him another piece.
“I’m really hurting.”
He wants tears, not too many, just a tiny bit will do.
He Yun looked at Siyu, who had raised his head in his arms and was gazing up at him with tear-filled, watery eyes.
The hand resting on Siyu’s shoulder wanted to push him away, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t summon any strength.
Clearly knowing Siyu’s feelings, the one who couldn’t accept it was himself, yet the one who couldn’t refuse was also himself.
He didn’t know what he was supposed to do.
Siyu noticed that He Yun was deliberately trying to keep his distance from him, distance in every sense of the word.
He didn’t point it out, but he didn’t retreat either, instead growing increasingly pushy and getting closer.
“It feels like I can’t even sit straight.”
On the train heading to Seaford, Siyu stretched lazily.
He stretched his legs out, and when he pulled his right leg back, it seamlessly pressed right up against He Yun’s left leg.
He Yun looked at Siyu, who was leaning weakly against the train window glass, took out his phone, and opened the map.
“There’s still an hour left,” He Yun said, looking at the time in the upper right corner which was not yet 8:00. “You woke up too early today, want to sleep a bit more?”
Siyu yawned and slowly nodded.
He Yun’s left shoulder leaned toward Siyu, and he instinctively flicked the left collar of his black jacket so the button wouldn’t press uncomfortably against Siyu.
However, the scene he had anticipated did not happen.
Siyu pulled up the hood of his white hoodie, covered the black fisherman’s hat that concealed his face, and closed his eyes in his leaning posture against the window.
He Yun’s hand holding the mineral water bottle paused. Then, he slowly turned the bottle cap, unscrewed it, and took a small sip.
Siyu’s sleeping posture was less than orderly; He Yun knew this from the fitted sheet that had at least one corner pulled loose every single day.
Even so, he hadn’t expected that Siyu could sleep in such a posture even on a train.
He Yun stared unblinkingly at the leg Siyu had draped over his knee.
The loose black cargo pants were capable of warding off the impending cold wind of the white cliffs, but they were powerless to isolate the rapidly rising temperature where their thighs pressed closely together.
He Yun tried to move Siyu’s leg, clad in light blue jeans, back down, but it only resulted in Siyu shifting it even more stubbornly and discontentedly toward his upper thigh.
Not daring to move again, He Yun had no choice but to let Siyu run wild.
Siyu the Crab Man ran wild as he got off the train, ran wild as he boarded the bus heading to the national park, ran wild as he got off the bus, and then:
“Ah! How much longer?!”
He Yun turned back to look at Siyu, who was supporting himself with his hands on his knees and looking thoroughly miserable, and said earnestly, “We’ve only been walking for a quarter of an hour.”
“Come here.”
He Yun smiled and walked toward Siyu, pulling him by the forearm.
The winter Cuckmere River radiated a cold, pale light, and the grass on both banks also carried a cool watery vapor.
Holding Siyu by the hand like this, He Yun followed the winding silver river southward toward the direction of the Atlantic Ocean, leaving the grazing cattle and sheep behind them.
“You don’t have to hold my hand, it’ll make you walk slowly too.”
“It’s fine.”
The moment He Yun finished speaking, he felt Siyu’s soft palm press against the back of his hand.
Unable to keep the promise he had just uttered, he abruptly jerked his hand back.
Immediately afterward, he realized his reaction had been far too intense.
Fortunately, Siyu didn’t seem to notice.
His attention had been captured by the edge of the white cliffs in the distance.
“So beautiful.”
Siyu looked at the dark blue sea split by the winding sea cliffs, raised a hand to press down on his fisherman’s hat which was about to be blown off by the sea wind, and quickened his pace.
The color of the sea was determined by the sky.
He Yun raised his head to look at the clear blue sky and caught up with Siyu’s pace.
The sea surface shimmered with threads of silver light, spreading out toward the depths of the clustered white clouds along waves that rippled like fish scales.
“Winter isn’t really suitable for looking at the sea.”
Siyu turned his head to look at He Yun, who had spoken.
He saw the muscles in He Yun’s jaw twitch. Hesitating for a moment, He Yun continued, “Summer, summer is even prettier.”
Siyu smiled. “How pretty?”
“Very pretty,” He Yun said. “You can come and see for yourself.”
Siyu once again pretended not to notice He Yun’s nervousness, shrugged, and said, “Summer is more suited for visiting tropical islands.”
Siyu walked past He Yun, bringing with him a salty sea breeze mixed with the fragrance of roses.
He Yun watched him walk along the edge of the cliff, using his tall, slender back as a dividing line: to the left was ground covered in green and yellow grass, and to the right was a pure white vertical cliff face.
The wind was strong, though not strong enough to blow Siyu off the white cliffs, yet He Yun still felt as though he would vanish from his sight in the next second.
Click.
He Yun lowered his camera.
He couldn’t even remember what aperture he had used, or what parameters he had set for the shutter speed and ISO.
This sort of mistake, fatal enough for a photographer, somehow seemed to validate the tilting scale in his heart.
Stay.
Siyu walked too fast, and even the sea wind failed to carry those words to his ears.
“Slow down, I can’t walk anymore!”
He Yun stopped in his tracks and turned around.
“Hold my hand, then.”
Siyu dropped his hands from his waist and reached them out toward him.
He Yun, standing on the long slope, didn’t move, not even showing any intention of raising his hand.
“Fine, forget it!”
Siyu flung his hands down, shoved them into his pockets, and quickened his pace out of spite.
Yet He Yun seemed determined not to let him get ahead; every time Siyu tried to pass him, He Yun would speed up and beat him to it.
Siyu: .
There were still quite a few tourists visiting the winter white cliffs, but they were probably the first pair to treat Belle Tout like an Olympic race walking track.
He Yun kept his eyes straight ahead, striding along with large steps;
Siyu glared back at him, marching stomp, stomp, stomp, stomp.
As the slope gradually leveled out, He Yun’s pace also slowed down.
Seeing this, Siyu burst into a short jog like he’d been injected with adrenaline, practically setting his soles on fire.
For a moment, it was as if sparks were flying from his shoes.
“Haha, you totally lost…”
“Careful!”
Siyu’s arm was yanked hard by He Yun, and in the next instant, his entire body was pulled into He Yun’s embrace.
A sheer drop lay right beside Siyu’s feet, but he wasn’t scared at all, because He Yun was holding him so tightly.
This is the second time.
The red and white lighthouse in the distant sea and the azure coast of southern France were both witnesses to it.
“Siyu?”
He Yun only wanted to comfort Siyu, but his hand ended up touching dampness all over.
He Yun frowned slightly and gently cupped Siyu’s face.
The moment their eyes met, a gust of sea wind swept over.
The wind blew off Siyu’s hat and stirred his soft black strands of hair.
This allowed He Yun to see Siyu’s tears even more clearly.
Siyu’s eyes, Siyu’s eyelashes, and Siyu’s cheeks were all dampened by tears. His cold, pale skin carried gleaming teardrops, making him look like a pure white rose covered in morning dew.
“He Yun, don’t let go.”
Another teardrop rolled down, flowing all the way from Siyu’s reddened eye sockets straight into He Yun’s heart.
At that time, He Yun didn’t understand the meaning behind Siyu’s words, but he still answered this non interrogative sentence that didn’t even require an answer.
“Okay, I won’t let go.”
He Yun tightened the strength in his arms, holding him tightly.
“There, it won’t be blown away by the wind anymore.”
He Yun looped the scarf over the top of Siyu’s head and tied a knot in front of his chest.
Siyu raised his eyes to look at He Yun, who was bending over him.
He poked his fingers out from the cuffs of his loose hoodie and nudged the oversized butterfly knot on his chest.
“I’m practically wrapped up like a rice dumpling.”
As Siyu said this, he was the first to chuckle.
He didn’t mention his emotional breakdown from earlier at all, and He Yun tacitly chose not to press him about it either.
He Yun simply used a slowed down pace and a gentle gaze to accompany him along the long, winding white walled sea cliffs of the Atlantic.
During this time, whenever anyone cast inquisitive or curious glances their way, He Yun would take a large stride to block them from Siyu’s sight.
Siyu looked at He Yun’s tall and sturdy back, his footsteps out of sync as they matched the acceleration of his pounding heartbeat.
Ever since he was seventeen years old, his life had turned into a display window commodity meant for public viewing.
Everyone around him cared only about whether the commodity was pretty and eye-catching, and whether the display window glass was sparkling clean.
Siyu didn’t feel like they had done anything wrong; this was his own choice as well.
He possessed countless camera lenses, flowers, and applause, while massive exposure and the loss of privacy were merely the most basic exchanges.
His fitness coach attracted more high quality clients by posting photos taken with him;
The restaurants he loved to frequent had owners who marked out check in walls to attract more fans to dine there;
Items that appeared in his photos were magnified and tagged, attracting more organic brand promotion.
Only He Yun.
Siyu suddenly had a strong urge to hold his hand.
He Yun happened to turn around at that moment.
He looked at Siyu’s extended hand once more and asked, “Are you tired?”
Seeing that Siyu didn’t speak, yet slowly lowered his hand, He Yun looked left and right and spotted a rock.
“Let’s take a break and eat something.”
He Yun opened a pack of wet wipes and handed one to Siyu, then pulled out a bottle of alcohol free hand sanitizer, meticulously following his before meal ritual.
He had never seen Siyu wolf down food like this before; his cheeks, stuffed full of sandwich, looked like a round little pufferfish.
“Mmph, laugh, mmph mmph, at what!”
He Yun waved his hand, pressed his lips together, unscrewed a bottle of grape juice, and handed it to him. “Sit down and eat. We’ve been walking for almost three hours.”
Siyu took the juice bottle, but remained standing, showing no intention of moving his feet.
He Yun lowered his head in thought, pulled the waterproof bag used to wrap his camera out of his black backpack, and spread it flat on the rock beside him.
He Yun: “Sit.”
Siyu: Doesn’t move.
He Yun took a breath, emptied his backpack completely, and placed it on top of the waterproof bag.
He Yun: “How about now?”
Siyu: Doesn’t move.
He Yun was just about to take off his coat when he noticed that Siyu’s gaze had landed squarely on his thighs.