Shooting Stars [ENG]

XXXIV - Turning Point (I)

  The inner turmoil was a burden that made it hard to breath right. Fingers of hands twisted in the sense of nudity and transparency. Gaze lost in the void, mind fixed on a precise thought. But in spite of everything, there was something comfortable in that silence and in their position: Shen's back leaning against the capitonné, his right arm wrapping around Zhao's shoulders, Zhao leaning his back against professor's chest... Until then, it was Zhao who had always been in Shen's place and that change was... he didn't know what it was like. His heart was beating and he hoped it wouldn't reach Shen. That silence was at the same time comfortable and had a certain weight; Shen almost wanted to see Zhao behave in his usual arrogant manner and say some inappropriate jokes, not to stand there staring at an unspecified point of the wall. He wasn't unfamiliar with such situations, but he had never had problems like at that time. Why was it different with Zhao? Night breeze caressed faces, instilling the necessary courage to break the ice.

- Do you want something to drink? -

- No, thanks. -

- Do you... need a moment alone? -

  Heart skipped a beat. That question seemed to contain all the questions at that moment were rumbling through detective's mind. As for them, Zhao wasn't sure of the answer to professor's question, didn't know whether he wanted to be alone or in company. But after a moment of hesitation, he nodded his head and moved a little forward. Shen understood perfectly and was grateful Zhao wanted a moment of separation, because he needed it too. Without another word, Shen got up and with only his shirt unbuttoned and his boxers on, he left the room. Only the creaking of the floor kept him company, while he reached kitchen to get a glass of fresh water. He put it on table even before drinking it. Laying hands on table, his head bowed down in a prolonged sigh. Why did he give in again? It wasn't him, it didn't happen to him since he had promised not to make it happen again. Instead, his room was occupied by someone who wasn't him. And it wasn't even the first time. He wasn't confused about his feelings, he wouldn't get involved and for Zhao it was just a phase: Zhao was probably just trying to figure out what he was feeling and once he would realize it wasn't for him, he would move on and leave Shen alone. But there was still something that was "disturbing" Shen, only he couldn't understand what. He let it go and drank water. The liquid seemed to lighten his mood, as if a wave had taken away those thoughts. When he didn't know what to do or felt strange, he was always sure to find comfort in the vast starry mantle above him. No words were needed, no questions asked, all he needed was to look up and silence would take its course. But silence wasn't always a good friend to young detective. At that time it wasn't relaxing him at all. What was going on? Why? Reflection of the closet door in front of him only gave him a confused and terrified look. Images just lived crossed the mind in bright colours, along with the memory of the looks, lips, skin... Shen's touch was still vivid, it wouldn't let him go. Shen's breath on his skin, those soft, gentle touches that had opened a door Zhao never thought he would ever go through... How could this happen? What would happen now? How would he behave? He had no idea. He returned to put his head on the pillow and squeezed it, turning on right into fetal position, breathing deeply, trying to regain control. But Shen was always there: his scent was another blow. Zhao tried to drive away those thoughts, but it didn't work. The creaking of floor that heralded professor's return after who knows how long - but always too soon - helped even less. Zhao could only close his eyes and pretend to be so comfortable that he fell asleep. He felt the rustle of Shen's passing, trail of his scent hitting his nostrils again, making him squint; bed lowering behind him and moving him slightly, making him tighten pillow again; and finally, silence. Wind rustled among leaves, moving crests of trees was the only distinct noise... Stars and moon were so bright as to envy streetlights. Silence was surreal, broken only by creaking of wooden furniture. Although inanimate, the house seemed alive, or at least it was what Zhao was trying to think of, to avoid the confusion that, on the contrary, made a deafening noise in his head. His mind wandered not even he knew where or why. He did everything not to think about the figure that was laying behind him. How long had it been? An hour? Two? Three? He couldn't sleep: confused emotions, memories of those moments just passed and heart pounding prevented him from sleep. A slow movement, pushed by a sudden courage and the whole view made skip a heartbeat. Shen's profile was illuminated by moonlight, pallor of his skin was almost unnatural. His long eyelashes were shining like the stars in background outside the half-open window. It was a good thing those eyes were closed, because Zhao didn't know how he could react to seeing them again: so deep he seemed to fall every time into an endless well. What mysteries concealed? The thought alone made he felt a shiver down his back. Zhao's eyes went down, caressing the pronounced cheekbones, the straight nose, the thin lips, the sweet chin, the sensual neck, the chest that was rising and lowering slowly, protected by the loose enough shirt to be able to see those small scars again... Even if they were visible, they gave the opposite feeling, as if they went deeper, into the depths. What was their story? Zhao really wanted to know. Hand advanced slowly, but wrist was blocked a few centimeters from the target.