When Jie opened his eyes, the ceiling above him was still and blindingly white.
The curtain was only half drawn, and sunlight spilled through the gap, falling in a narrow beam across the edge of the floor. It swayed slightly with the wind outside.
He didn't move.
Didn't reach for his phone.
He simply lay there, letting his mind loop endlessly through the same scene.
The kiss.
Di's kiss.
In that moment, time had split open, and even the air seemed to freeze.
He hadn't processed it—just reacted. Backed away.
Ran.
But now, lying here in the quiet, the memory was painfully clear—
Di's expression as he moved toward him, the storm in his eyes,
The trembling breath,
And the thin line of blood left behind from where Jie had bitten him.
—
But clearer than all that was the voice on the phone that night.
"…Mm."
That's what Di had said.
Soft. But heavy, like he had to press down the entire world just to let the word out.
And he—he'd said something even heavier.
He had asked him to help.
To help chase after someone else.
Back then, he'd even smiled. Thought he was being honest.
—
Only now did Jie realize how foolish he'd been.
How selfish.
—
He'd always thought Di was just quiet.
Calm. Reliable.
The kind of person who would always be there, asking nothing in return.
He had assumed—without thinking—that Di would help, just because he was Di.
But now that single sentence—"I'll help you"—carried a weight he had never once considered.
—
It wasn't calmness.
It was endurance.
It wasn't support.
It was buried affection, crushed into silence.
—
He turned onto his side, curling into the blankets, the sunlight falling behind him.
His throat felt tight.
He hadn't cried. But something ached in his chest like he should have.
—
He thought of all those ordinary moments:
Lunch with the three of them.
Walking home together.
Sharing snacks. Arguing about music.
Joking around in classrooms and convenience stores.
All the times he thought they were just "friends."
Now those memories rewound like a movie.
And somewhere in all of them, Di's feelings had already been quietly growing.
—
Jie hadn't seen it.
Or maybe—he hadn't dared to.
—
A thought surfaced, uninvited but clear:
It wasn't that three people made the movie too crowded.
It was that they had long stopped being able to tell friendship from love.
—
He didn't know how to face Di now.
Didn't know if Di would even want to be faced.
Not after everything.
Not after he had taken that quiet love and used it like a favor, like a resource.
—
He just lay there, unmoving.
The sun kept shining. The day kept going.
But Jie didn't.
—
A strange thought entered his mind—
If he stayed sick a little longer,
Maybe he wouldn't have to go back.
Wouldn't have to see those eyes again.
Wouldn't have to deal with those words, that silence, that brokenness.
He didn't want to admit it—
But a part of him really did wish