"What are you doing here?"
Andre's voice was low, sharp, cutting across the silence of his bedroom like the slice of a blade.
The man lying on his bed didn't move. No words, no shift, not even the flutter of an eyelash. Silence pressed against the walls like a heavy fog.
Andre's hand tightened on the doorknob before he slammed the door shut with a loud bang. The sound reverberated in the small room, sealing them in together. His chest rose and fell with anger, emotions burning in his silver eyes like molten steel. His footsteps were heavy, deliberate, each one echoing with rage as he crossed the room.
He stopped at the edge of the bed, towering over the intruder. His jaw tightened, and his lips curled into something close to a snarl.
"ZHEN YICHEN!"
The name shot out like a whip crack.
The man on the bed finally stirred. Slowly, he lifted his head, dark eyes locking onto Andre's silver ones. Their gazes clashed, a storm colliding with cold fire. Yichen sat up with measured movements, his posture calm but his face shadowed by fatigue.
His temples throbbed with pain, remnants of the brutal headache that had driven him here in the first place. For a moment, lying against Andre's pillow, inhaling that faintly fresh, untainted scent, the ache had dulled. The boy's presence—his very existence—offered a strange relief Yichen had not found anywhere else. But now, dragged out of that fragile reprieve, his exhaustion pressed heavily on his shoulders.
Today had been hell.
The confrontation with his grandfather still clung to him like tar. That man—ruthless, manipulative, relentless—never allowed anyone to oppose him without consequences. He had always forced his will onto the family, demanding obedience, demanding control. Yichen had played the silent grandson for years, masking his intentions, hiding his truths. He thought marriage with Celia would shield him, convince the old man he had finally conformed. Then slowly have enough to break free from the family and fully take control of his life. If possible bring down that old man.
But the truth had slipped through the cracks.
Somehow, his grandfather had uncovered more than Yichen ever intended. Watching. Investigating. Digging. The sly bastard had known far more than he pretended. The marriage wasn't real, and now, there was suspicion… perhaps even knowledge… of his attachment with Andre.
The thought made Yichen's blood run cold.
He had underestimated that old monster. Now, neither Celia nor Andre was safe. And Yichen—though battered with exhaustion, though his mind screamed in pain—swore he would not let harm come to them. Not to Celia. And not… to Andre.
He would burn everything down first.
"I'm asking you, Zhen Yichen." Andre's voice snapped him back. The boy's face was pale with fury, his silver eyes alive with restrained emotion. His voice trembled, not with weakness, but with suppressed rage. "What the hell are you doing in my room?"
Yichen's lips parted. "…I need to rest, so—"
"So what?!" Andre exploded, cutting him off. He leaned forward, his voice sharp enough to cut skin. "Who gave you the right to intrude into my room again and again? To lie on my bed—knowing fully well I wasn't here?" His words spat out like venom.
Yichen inhaled deeply but said nothing, only held the boy's gaze.
Andre's anger burned hotter at the silence. His fingers twitched as if he wanted to drag the man up and shove him out with his bare hands. "Answer me!" he snapped.
"…I'm sorry I intruded." Yichen's voice was low, husky with weariness. His eyes softened faintly, betraying something Andre couldn't name. "But I couldn't resist. I was so…" His words trailed off, swallowed by his own exhaustion.
Andre scoffed, his laugh sharp and bitter. "I don't care. My problem is that I'm fed up. Do you hear me? I'm done dealing with you and your sleeping problems since the moment I was dragged into this country, I haven't had peace of mind knowing there be a man breaking into my room in the middle night to sleep next to me no matter my objections!" His voice shook now, louder, rawer, breaking through the calm mask he usually carried. "If you're sick, then get yourself treated. Don't involve me in your issues!"
Yichen's chest rose and fell with a quiet sigh. He remained silent, simply looking at him.
"How can you come here," Andre's voice cracked, his anger trembling into that sounds like pain, "and not even let me have peace? You've already taken my mom away from me. You made us leave our home, leave everything we knew, just so you could… what? Play family? At least—" his voice lowered to a dangerous whisper, "at least let me have some peace."
Yichen's heart clenched. He wanted to speak, to defend, to explain. But the words tangled in his throat.
"It's not what you think, Ani—"
"Don't call me that!" Andre snapped, his voice sharp as glass. His silver eyes glimmered with fury and something far deeper, rawer. "We aren't close. Mr. Zhen."
The title was spat like a curse.
Yichen's lips pressed into a thin line. His chest tightened. He swallowed. "Andre…" His voice was quiet, too quiet. "I don't know how to explain this. I just… I just needed your help to sleep. That's all."
Andre blinked at him, then burst into a bitter laugh. His voice was thick with mockery. "Sleeping, you say?" He tilted his head, smirking with cold disdain. "Do you think I'm stupid? Do you think I don't know what goes on in your head?"
Yichen's brows furrowed, confusion flickering in his dark eyes. "What are you talking about?"
Andre stepped closer, leaning down slowly until his lips were near Yichen's ear. His voice dropped to a low, mocking whisper that sent shivers through the air.
"Don't you like men? Hm?"
The words hit like a strike of lightning in the quiet room.
For a moment, time seemed to stop.
Yichen's eyes widened slightly, his breath catching. His body stiffened, yet his gaze didn't break from Andre's. The boy's silver eyes glowed with cold defiance, but beneath that, there was an edge—of fear, of curiosity, of something dangerous neither of them wanted to name.
The room was heavy with silence again, thick and suffocating.
Yichen's headache pounded harder, but his heart pounded harder still.
And Andre, standing over him, looked ready to tear the world apart just to keep the man in front of him from crossing his walls.