The mansion was quiet in a way that only came after midnight.
Not the polite quiet of the day, filled with footsteps and murmurs—but a deep, sleeping stillness, where even the walls seemed to breathe slowly.
Yueyue stirred beneath his blankets.
At first, he thought it was a dream—the dry ache creeping up his throat, the uncomfortable twist in his stomach. He turned onto his side, burying his face into the pillow, trying to ignore it.
It didn't go away.
His throat burned.
"...Water," he murmured hoarsely.
With a soft sigh, he pushed himself upright. His movements were sluggish, eyes half-lidded as he slid his feet into slippers. The room felt too warm, his thin sleepwear clinging lightly to his skin. He rubbed his eyes and shuffled toward the door.
The hallway lights were dimmed to a low glow as he made his way downstairs, careful not to make noise. The mansion felt even larger at night—long corridors stretching endlessly, shadows pooling in corners.
He reached the kitchen and opened the fridge quietly, the cool air brushing his face. He grabbed a bottle of water, unscrewed the cap, and drank greedily.
The cool liquid soothed his throat instantly.
As he lowered the bottle, a soft growl came from his stomach.
"...Huh?" He blinked down at himself. "Why am I hungry at this time of night?"
He pressed a hand to his stomach, brow knitting slightly.
Then he remembered.
Dinner.
He hadn't eaten much.
Sitting at that long table, surrounded by the family he barely get to be around, watched by too many eyes—his appetite had vanished almost immediately. Normally, he ate alone on the rooftop, where the night breeze and silence made food easier to swallow.
Yueyue glanced toward the freezer.
He opened it slowly, peering inside at the neatly stored leftovers—covered dishes, labeled containers. His hand hovered.
What if they're meant for something?
What if someone will need them tomorrow?
He withdrew his hand, guilt flickering across his face.
Instead, he opened the upper fridge.
Fruit.
His shoulders relaxed slightly.
"...This should be fine," he whispered to himself.
He took three bananas, closed the fridge carefully, and hopped lightly onto the kitchen counter out of habit. The cool marble seeped through the thin fabric beneath him as he peeled one slowly, movements unhurried, eyes still heavy with sleep.
He took a bite, chewing quietly.
The kitchen clock ticked softly in the background.
⸻
At the same time, in an upstairs room, Tian Lei woke abruptly.
His chest felt tight.
He sat up, reaching instinctively for the cigarette pack on the bedside table. Lighting one out of habit, he took a drag—only to choke immediately.
"—Cough—"
He turned away sharply, covering his mouth as the smoke burned his throat.
"Fuck—" Another cough followed, harsher this time. "—Hoh—"
His chest tightened, lungs protesting.
He reached for the bedside table, eyes squinting in the dark.
No water.
"Tch."
The coughing wouldn't stop, each breath rougher than the last. With an irritated click of his tongue, he stood, barefoot against the cold floor, and headed downstairs.
"I need water," he muttered hoarsely.
⸻
Yueyue remained unaware.
He peeled the second banana, swinging his legs lightly as he ate, his posture relaxed in a way he rarely allowed himself during the day.
His sleepwear—a loose, cropped yellow Micky mouse printed t-shirt and soft boxers—kept him cool, just as he liked. He hated heavy pajamas; they made him feel trapped, overheated, This way, the night air felt gentle against his skin.
His eyes drooped as he chewed, shoulders slumped, utterly unguarded.
Then—
Footsteps.
Soft. Approaching.
Tian Lei stepped into the kitchen.
And froze.
The scene in front of him stopped him mid-step.
Yueyue sat on the kitchen counter, legs dangling slightly, banana in hand. His hair was messy from sleep, cheeks faintly flushed, eyes heavy with drowsiness. The dim kitchen light softened his features, giving him an almost unreal calmness.
So small.
So quiet.
So... out of place in a house this large.
Tian Lei blinked once.
Then again.
His throat felt dry all over again, though this time it had nothing to do with smoke.
He swallowed.
Yueyue, sensing something, lifted his head slowly.
Their eyes met.
For a split second, neither of them moved.
"...Ah—!" Yueyue startled, nearly dropping the banana. "U-Uncle—!"
He scrambled to hop down from the counter, embarrassment rushing to his face as heat bloomed across his cheeks.
"I—I'm sorry," he blurted out. "I couldn't sleep and—I was just—"
Tian Lei raised a hand instinctively. "Relax."
Yueyue froze mid-motion.
"I was just getting water," Tian Lei added, clearing his throat lightly. "Didn't mean to scare you."
Yueyue nodded quickly, head dipping. "...I didn't eat much earlier."
Tian Lei glanced at the bananas. Then at the time on the wall clock.
"...It's late."
"Yes," Yueyue replied softly.
There was a brief silence.
Tian Lei walked past him, grabbed a glass, and filled it with water. He drank slowly this time, eyes unfocused—but his awareness remained sharply fixed on the presence beside him.
After a moment, he spoke.
"You should eat."
Yueyue looked up, surprised. "I—I am."
Tian Lei nodded once. "Good."
Another pause settled between them—quiet, awkward, strangely calm.
The night wrapped around the kitchen again.
Two figures awake when the rest of the house slept, standing in the same space, neither quite knowing why the air felt different—but both feeling it all the same.
The kitchen remained quiet after that—too quiet, as if the house itself was holding its breath.
Yueyue stood there with the half-peeled banana in his hand, fingers fidgeting slightly. He didn't know whether to keep eating or put it down. His cheeks were still warm from embarrassment, his eyes lowered to the marble counter.
Tian Lei noticed.
He set the empty glass down and leaned lightly against the counter across from him, not too close, not too far. Close enough to share the same space. Far enough not to crowd him.
"You don't have to stop," Tian Lei said. "Finish it."
Yueyue hesitated, then nodded. He took a small bite, chewing slowly. His movements were careful, like he was afraid of doing something wrong even now.
"...You couldn't sleep either?" Yueyue asked softly, voice barely above a whisper.
Tian Lei glanced at him, surprised by the question. "Sometimes."
Yueyue nodded again, as if that made perfect sense. "Me too."
Another pause.
The refrigerator hummed quietly. Somewhere far away, a clock ticked.
Yueyue swung his legs slightly, then stilled them, realizing what he was doing. He hugged his free arm to his stomach unconsciously, shoulders curling in just a bit.
Tian Lei's gaze dropped to the gesture—noticing without staring.
"Your stomach still hurts?" he asked.
Yueyue blinked, startled. "...A little."
"You didn't eat," Tian Lei said, not accusing—just stating a fact.
Yueyue's fingers tightened around the banana peel. "I tried... but there were too many people. I get nervous."
Tian Lei was quiet for a moment.
Then, "Next time, eat first," he said. "You don't owe anyone your appetite."
Yueyue looked up at him then, eyes wide, like the idea itself had never occurred to him.
"...Okay," he said softly.
He finished the banana in small bites. When he was done, he wiped his fingers carefully with a napkin, folding it neatly even though no one was watching.
"You're very careful," Tian Lei observed.
Yueyue tilted his head slightly. "Is that bad?"
"No," Tian Lei replied. "Just... noticeable."
Yueyue smiled faintly at that—not a full smile, but something fragile and real. It appeared and disappeared just as quickly.
"I should go back to sleep," Yueyue said after a moment. "It's late."
Tian Lei nodded. "You should."
Yueyue slid off the counter quietly and stood there for a second, unsure. Then he bowed slightly, out of habit.
"...Good night, Uncle."
"Good night, Yueyue."
He took a few steps toward the door, then stopped and turned back, as if gathering courage.
"Thank you," he said.
"For what?"
"For earlier," Yueyue replied. "And... for now."
Tian Lei didn't answer right away. Then he said simply, "Sleep well."
Yueyue nodded, satisfied, and padded out of the kitchen, his footsteps soft against the floor.
Tian Lei remained where he was.
The kitchen felt different after Yueyue left—quieter, emptier. He picked up the glass again, took another sip of water, and exhaled slowly.
"...Strange kid," he muttered under his breath.
But his expression wasn't annoyed.
It was thoughtful.
And long after Yueyue's footsteps faded upstairs, the moment lingered—quiet, unspoken, and unresolved—settling into the night like something that would not be easily forgotten.
Tian Lei stayed in the kitchen long after Yueyue's footsteps faded upstairs.
The glass in his hand was empty now, but he didn't put it down. He stared at the faint reflection on its surface, jaw tightening slightly.
Get a grip.
He exhaled slowly through his nose.
The image had come uninvited—Yueyue sitting on the counter, half-asleep, small and careless in a way that didn't belong in a house like this. Too unguarded. Too soft. Too... out of place, his exposed porcelain skin, and his innocent face
that was exactly the problem.
"...Idiot," Tian Lei muttered to himself.
It wasn't desire that unsettled him.
It was the fact that he'd noticed all of it.
He ran a hand through his hair roughly and reached into his pocket for a cigarette, lighting it with a sharp flick. He inhaled deeply, the familiar burn grounding him.
Smoke filled his lungs.
He's your nephew, he reminded himself flatly.
Your brother's family. Off-limits. End of story.
The smoke didn't help.
Instead, his mind betrayed him again—remembering the way Yueyue had looked startled, embarrassed, how quickly he'd apologized for simply existing in the space. How small he'd seemed under the kitchen light, like the world might swallow him whole if no one was watching.
Tian Lei clicked his tongue and stubbed the cigarette out harder than necessary.
"This is ridiculous you ain't doing this tian lei."
He didn't like this feeling.
Didn't like how his instincts—ones sharpened by distance, never knowing each other—had faltered over something so inappropriate, so sudden.
So he did what he always did when his head got too loud.
He moved.
Tian Lei walked back upstairs, grabbed his jacket, slipped on his shoes, and stepped quietly out of the mansion. The night air hit him immediately—cool, sharp, honest. The vast estate stretched out before him, silent under the moonlight.
He started jogging without warming up.
Faster than necessary.
The gravel crunched beneath his feet as his breath evened out, muscles working, thoughts forced into order with every step. The rhythm helped. It always did.
Run until your head clears.
Run until your pulse drowns everything else out.
Behind him, the mansion stood still and dark.
Upstairs, Yueyue slept.
And Tian Lei ran—away from the kitchen, away from the thoughts he didn't want, away from a line he refused to cross—until the night itself seemed to blur around him.