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.
Just take the goddamn chicken and let me leave.
As though he had heard his mind, He Tian levelled him a gaze that was nothing short of taunting, before smirking enigmatically.
"The incognito look isn't really the look this summer." Slender fingers ripped open the lid of a beer tin. "The girls will tell you. Seriously, chicken-boy, what's up with the helmet?"
He thrust out the packet and a piece of paper for He Tian to sign, not trusting himself to say a word as relief flooded him in a paralyzing rush, turning his legs into two automated sticks that attempted to keep balance.
Fuck, the bastard doesn't realize it's—
"You know, you're pretty silent for a delivery guy. About time those guys hired someone who didn't gossip like a rat." He Tian took one deep swig from the beer can, slender throat juddering smoothly as the liquid went down. This close, he could see some honey-like, bronze droplets escaping down the bastard's chin, down the delicate line of the pale neck.
Did the bastard have a habit of opening his door half-naked?
There was a brief pause which dragged on as He Tian assessed him with calculating eyes, and Guan Shan could've sworn that there was an unnatural sharpness in that gaze, before it morphed into something playful.
"I have many other promises for your manager." He Tian's tone had changed in a heartbeat, and this time, his eyes were positively sinful as his tone dropped to a rich, sultry, husky contralto. His heart skipped a beat. "And I'd like to look for other...delicious options. Something juicy and fiery upon my tongue. Creamy and elegant."
Dazed, the grip he had on the packet loosened.
"I must be making no sense to you." Just like that, the unanimous spell was broken, smashed into smithereens as He Tian reared back, running deft, artful fingers through his hair. "But I'd wager that you'd like to taste these things." He Tian looked at him from beneath his lashes. The hot, addictive brand of sheer lust was back with a vengeance, and the attraction sparked the air between them with renewed vigor.
Guan Shan curled his fingers, trying to keep himself from lashing out, from acting out on his instincts. The helmet his head was covered by gave him a false sense of relief.
"Oh yeah, you must be cold. How rude of me." The door creaked inaudibly as He Tian leaned on it, face hovering near his. "Come inside and maybe I can get you all nice and toasty."
Oh Gods. The bastard's voice ripped through the measly barrier he had constructed around his sanity, and the only thing that he wanted to do was to get all that exposed skin bitten and marked and raw and red, and He Tian moaning in sheer pleasure as he came hard and fast.
Then there was a hand on his collar, and he was yanked in through the door way. A door slammed shut as his eyes adjusted to the dim, vignette light of a wall lamp. The chicken packet fell onto the fall, bouncing harmlessly and breaking the sudden spell he had been under in a heartbeat. A hand on the small of his back, pulling him in.
"Take off the helmet." The voice was a rich, smoky contralto, and the shapely expressive black eyes were even more so. "Are you trying to prove a point?"
He remembered who this was, and where exactly he was, before all but ripping off the helmet from his head and nearly tearing his head off in the process. He gave an ugly sneer, appraising the blood stained linen.
"Why'd I ever wanna prove a point with you?" Guan Shan threw the helmet onto the sofa. "I could jus' as easily hammer it in. Like some Lay Yin dipshit had."
"Is that why you came here?" He Tian asked, tone dangerous. "To get answers? Collaborative efforts?"
"What the fuck are you yammerin' on about?"
"That Yin guy who'd jumped into the scene. Is he in one of your cute little squads?" He Tian drawled, falling back on the sofa seat and draping his bare arms across it. "I guess you came back to finish the job. Too bad. I thought you had potential."
"Wha—are you for real?" He asked, incredulous. Accusations? From where the hell did they come from? The bastard had the nerve to imply he staged Lay Yin's little attack on purpose?!
"Just confirming." He Tian took another swig, before getting up. "You wouldn't do that—I mean, if you did, you'd be dead."
And wasn't that a bloody consolation?
"I was jus' doin' my job." Mo pinched the bridge of his nose. "And you've jus' given me a hell of a headache. You'll pay for that at school." With that, he grabbed his helmet, before making a move towards the door.
"Not so fast." He Tian's belligerent voice made him stop abruptly. He breathed in slowly, before turning around. The asshole raised the can of beer in a mock-toast, before grinning at him.
"Take me to the central park."
He spluttered. "I am not your goddamn cabbie! Are you outta your mind? I'll fuckin' kill you if you say anythin' more."
"You wouldn't." He Tian reassured him blithely. "It's five minutes away."