Rain hit the back of Sicheng’s hand as he stared at his phone, the battery down to four percent.
Every number in his call log had already turned him down.
Gig agencies with no openings.
Old coworkers with no room.
And one guy from the warehouse who simply stopped replying halfway through the conversation.
Though, one contact remained, and he didn’t want to call—not if he could help it.
But the rain wasn’t letting up, and neither was the cold settling into his bones.
Eventually, he gave up and dialed the number.
"Sicheng?"
He paused briefly, reluctantly to speak, but Sicheng couldn’t deny he needed help. "My landlord evicted me and my savings were in the pile they hauled out. I wouldn’t call if I had anywhere else to go."
A pause, then: "Send your location. I’m coming."
The line went dead before he could respond. Rain soaked through his shirt in dark patches while he sat with his knees pulled to his chest, the cardboard boxes around him slowly going soft.
Sicheng sent his address and pulled his hood over his head.
Nuocheng’s bowl of noodles hit the coffee table the second he stood up.
He grabbed his keys, shoved his feet into loafers without checking which foot went where, and bolted out the door without a jacket or umbrella.
He ran two yellow lights on the drive over, wipers barely keeping pace with the downpour. Sicheng came into view at the curb, small against a pile of ruined boxes, head bowed low.
Nuocheng left the car half in the street and ran straight into the rain.
"I forgot an umbrella." He crouched in front of him, already soaked through. "Give me your hand."
Sicheng stared at the offered hand for two seconds before taking it.
The warmth from Nuocheng’s hands heated him briefly.
They loaded what had survived the rain: two boxes, a duffel bag, and a backpack Sicheng refused to hand over until the very last moment.
The mattress stayed behind, too heavy and too waterlogged to save.
The heater roared to life the moment both doors shut.
"Thank you." Sicheng kept his eyes on the fogged windshield, the backpack still clutched in his lap. "I wouldn’t have called if I had any other option."
"That’s okay." Nuocheng kept his eyes on the road, reaching over to angle the heater vent toward him.
This time, Sicheng didn’t pull away from the warmth.
"Still, you don’t have to do this." Sicheng clenched his fists, the cycle just wouldn’t break.
Why did he have to beg for everything he owned?
"Allow me to help, you’ve already tried everything else." Nuocheng kept his tone deliberately light. "No conditions tonight. You can go back to hating me tomorrow if you want."
A short breath escaped through Sicheng’s nose, almost a laugh. "I don’t hate you."
"Could’ve fooled me."
"I don’t trust you." Sicheng watched the rain streak down his window. "That’s a different thing entirely."
Nuocheng let the words settle between them without pushing further.
The private garage sat quiet beneath the building, water dripping from both of them onto the marble floor as the elevator carried them up. Sicheng kept his back straight against the mirrored wall the entire ride.
"The guest room’s the second door down the hall." Nuocheng flicked on the lights as they stepped inside. "There’s a bathroom in there, I’ll leave some clothes on the bed."
Sicheng disappeared down the hallway, the backpack pressed against his chest like someone might try to take it from him.
Nuocheng stood dripping in the entryway, listening to the pipes kick on somewhere down the hall.
Arranging his thoughts as he climbed the stairs, he offered Sicheng clothes but did he have clothes big enough to fit him?
The closet stared back at him, all his clothes were tailored to fit so he would have to find his most casual clothes.
Eventually, Nuocheng found the biggest sweatpants and shirt he owned.
"Thank goodness, I went through that high-school boy phase or he would have had to walk around naked."
His lips cracked up a bit, not that he minded, Sicheng had that hustler body—it would be a sight.
Nuocheng placed the clothes in a basket and brought it to the room.
Knock.
Knock.
"I’m coming in." Nuocheng stepped inside, he kissed his teeth lightly, hoping to catch a glimpse of Sicheng’s naked body.
If he decided to ignore Sicheng’s feelings he could just sit here and wait for him.
But that would only make him more uncomfortable.
Nuocheng left them folded on the bed without another word, he stared at the bathroom door for a second before stepping out of the room.
Back in the kitchen, he dumped the ruined noodles and started a fresh pot, grateful for something to occupy his hands while his thoughts stayed elsewhere.
While he prepped, he cleaned the table checking if the stained documents were important ones.
"Chenxi would have killed me, thank God the originals are in the company."
He swiped the table clean, arranged the pillows on the couch before heading back to the kitchen.
"Should I add dumplings?" Strolling to the fridge, he checked if the chef had left any pre-made dumplings.
Sicheng emerged twenty minutes later. The biggest shirt Nuocheng owned looked laughably small on his frame.
The sight of his pectoralis major, bulging through the shirt, made Nuocheng swoon.
He didn’t need a doctor to tell the man was in good shape. Wink wink
Sicheng stopped short at the sight of a second bowl waiting on the counter.
"You didn’t have to."
Nuocheng didn’t answer immediately, he wiped his hands and walked around the counter.
"I have to. You need something warm, if not that’s just an invitation for a really bad cold."
He patted Sicheng’s arm, offering him a little smile.
"I’m glad the pants fit at least. They’re the biggest I own." He skirted past Sicheng and headed to the couch, grabbing the remote as he sat down.
"Eat up before it gets cold. Then we can talk after."