Irresistible You (19 Days) (BL)

13.

Fear wasn't stopping him; the war of wills that battled mercilessly in him was. The prominent ridge of Guan Shan's throat bobbed in an uncharacteristic show of emotions, and every step that he took towards the elevator felt heavy and final—he loathed the repugnant feeling with emotion. The cadence of his heart increased as the elevator rose steadily, every storey it passed providing a magnificent, widening view of Hangzhou in all her blazing glory in the night. Sweat broke across his neck in rivulets, and he vaguely considered taking his helmet off. No, it provided him with a flimsy semblance of control and anonymity.

Don't be stupid. A voice in him whispered firmly. He's not gonna be the next one. This is just a coincidence.

But his gut twisted in elaborate ways, bringing all sorts of feelings bubbling up within him, so uncertain and intangible. It was almost as though he couldn't believe he was in this moment. With trembling fingers—he still wasn't sure why they were juddering sodamnmuch — he lifted the coarse slip with the serrated edges, gaze falling on the last address in the list.

Shang-Pei apartments, 52-C.

52-C. He strode out of the lift with the plastic bag, eyes automatically scanning through the number plates aligned neatly near the large, oak doors that seemed to swallow the huge walls. 64-B, 65-B, 66-B....This wasn't B. He ran through the corridor, the muscles of his legs flexing and uncoiling painfully as he swiftly rushed past each gargantuan door, feeling out of place like an oyster in an octopus. The long expanse of corridor ended with 49-B and a set of stairs going downward, and he took in a sharp breath, his damp breath clouding the visor of his helmet.

Ten seconds later, he was in front of 50-C. Another four seconds, and he was frozen at the familiar doormat in front of fucking 52-C, with a blank face. It was as though his body wasn't receptive of what his mind told him, and the packet of foil-packed hot chicken swung listlessly in his hand, as though wanting to jump into the safe hands of the asshole who had ordered it. Well, fuck the goddamn chicken. He wasn't—he wasn't thrilled about customer satisfaction anyway. He was going to call it quits.

Biting back a litany of curses, his thumb found the blood red bell button, and pushed it. Mo could hear the ringing from within, a faint audible series of tinkles, and prepared to dump the chicken and run. He was apprehensive of what he might see. Shit, what if Lay Yin had hit the bastard too hard that the pathetic guy was bedridden? It wasn't like he had hung around and shit to see how He Tian's condition was when the bastard had woken up. Maybe the guy was going to unleash his anger on the next idiot who appeared in front of his goddamn face. The helmet added additional protection then, he thought soberly. He sure as hell wasn't going to go down without a decent fight—

The door swung open, and it was some kind of a heavenly miracle Guan Shan didn't drop the packet onto the rubber mat.

"Goddamn."

He wasn't even aware that he had said that out loud, at least he wasn't until cool, red-rimmed eyes grazed over his face. A sure-fire, familiar little smirk that looked like it had seen better days.

"I didn't know it shocked people to meet me for the first time." The source of most of his woes mused, leaning against the door way and arching an eyebrow like he owned a kingdom. Guan Shan dubiously stared at the fresh, white line of cloth wrapped securely around He Tian's temple, damp strands of dark hair framing it in wispy lines.

He Tian had donned on a pair of sinfully tight, threadbare shorts that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. It rode below the hard jut of the bastard's hipbones, causing him to gape openly.

That gaze floated lazily down to the packet, before climbing back up and looking at his head. Or rather, his helmet.

"Ah yes," The drawl was back, and it was almost a seductive purr. "The chicken." Oh Gods, it sounded perverse on his tongue.