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The bandages scattered across his skin paint a sorry sight. Has his hair always been this messy?
Mo brushes his teeth, methodically, staring at his reflection in the mirror. The jacket that’s on his shoulders is sitting on stiff muscle. There’s all this tension that he’s holding-
He rolls his shoulders, trying to dislodge the invisible weight pushing them down. They pop with an uncomfortable crack.
Mo wouldn’t say he looks bad, but he looks tired. He feels tired, ten years older than the month before, and it shows.
Fuck knows it’s been a long couple of weeks.
In the mirror, he sees himself wince a second before he feels the sting. His mouth fills with the bitter taste of iron. Oh. The toothbrush hit his inner cheek took hard. He's overdoing the brushing, his glums starting to feel sensible.
What the fuck is he doing?
Mo spits out the mouth wash. He can’t wait to be rid of the bandages.
The him in the mirror taunts him.
His heart races in his chest, his cheeks just a little flushed. His whole body thrums with repressed energy. He wasn't like this when he willingly met with She Li expecting to get beat. It shouldn’t matter how he looks, it shouldn’t matter what He T-
“Darling?” Two knocks, muffled voice through the bathroom door. “Your classmate is here to see you.”
Yeah.
Mo rinses his mouth and spits. “I'll be there in a second.”
“Alright dear. He looks anxious, I’ll make him some tea.”
Mo frowns.
He… what?
Mo glances at the closed bathroom door like he might see He Tian through it.
“…good anxious or bad one?”
There’s a small pause. Mo can imagine her considering it.
“Good dear. He just seems nervous.” Her voice comes soft. Amused.
…okay.
“Why do you ask?” His mom asks. “You boys won’t be getting into any more fights, will you?”
A sting of guilt floods in at that. Mo finds himself looking at the bandaged bruises in his arm.
“No mom,” he tells her.
The pause is longer this time.
“…are you sure? Son, you know you can talk to me.”
That one hurts Mo, in a really personal way.
He feels strangely self-aware. Skittish. The words are on the tip of his tongue.
He Tian and I won’t be getting into any more fights mom. We’re hanging out because we’re-
She hasn’t stepped away. Mo feels every second with a growing anxiety, pulsing beneath his skin.
He isn’t one for keeping secrets from her, fuck knows it, and he doubts this one will last. But that means that- it means that it’s the third or maybe forth time that Mo’s tense, shoulders drawn tight, like maybe this is the conversation when he’ll just blurt out something impulsive. Or- or, or, maybe she’ll just find out somehow, fuck, maybe she’ll be able to tell, and will ask him about it and Mo will have to talk. He wants to burn at the thought of talking. He wants to find a shovel and dirt and dig a hole in the ground to hide.
Which is stupid.
He doesn’t know what she would think, but she probably wouldn’t- and maybe even if she did, even she thought it was weird, or, or wrong, she would still respect his choice, Mo knows her, and then Mo wouldn’t have to be so fucking strung up-
So fucking stupid.
If He Tian can tell his mom- fuck, that memory makes him feel things he can’t put into words, raw and fragile. If he can tell his mom, Mo should be able to-
Mo’s brain thinks this is one of those ‘fight or flight’ instinct situations, pumping out adrenaline, ready for a fight.
“…son? I’m worried about you. Promise me you won’t be getting into another fight.”
Mo grips the edge of the sink, like he needs it to hold some of his weight.
“Promise,” Mo says. “He said he wants to go shopping today.”
…and he can’t say it. Not yet.
Mo stares at his hands. They are looking tough. He is getting into too many fights, he’ll give her that.
“Alright. I’ll make him some camomile tea, he could use it.”
Her footsteps retreat. That easy.
Mo should tell her. About this.
Fuck knows out of everything that’s been happening in his life, He Tian is- he’s something good. Maybe his mom would understand.
He Tian, who’s out there looking anxious.
The jacket on his shoulders sits heavy on him, an extra weight to it.
Mo rinses with mouthwash too. He’s always used mouthwash, it’s not something that he’s doing because He Tian might-
Fuck.
One last meeting his eyes in the mirror. Mo combs fingers of one hand through his hair one last time.
Fuck, this is stupid.
Mo opens the bathroom door.
He Tian and Mo’s mom are sitting at the table. The badly oiled hinge creaking draws He Tian’s eyes. They meet Mo’s, a hot second, but then they’re slipping lower, and He Tian’s doing this sweep, pausing at Mo’s long sleeved shirt, not baggy like his usual wardrobe, and He Tian’s own jacket that Mo picked without thinking, sitting on Mo. Mo burns under the attention.
Yeah, Mo shouldn’t have worried.
Fuck, doesn’t He Tian get self-conscious? Dammit. Maybe he’s outsourcing his self-awareness, as the rich guy that he is, maybe he’s getting people to feel self-aware on his behalf. Because fuck knows Mo feels it enough for the both of them. Mo hopes he’s not flushing.
His mom is carrying the conversation, something about the medicinal properties of camomile and the importance of not being so tense in daily life. It feels like bullshit because there’s some weight on her shoulders too. Mo can see it on her posture, the tense way she’s nursing the cup she poured herself. Maybe- maybe it’s his fault, maybe seeing Mo covered in bandages worried her more than Mo had noticed. Mo doesn’t know how to tell her that it’ll be alright. But it will be. She’ll have to believe him. Once again he feels the impulse to just tell her about him and He Tian.
Mo has to tell her. He knows. It’s just- he used up all his courage just to kiss him the other day, and maybe Mo is braver than he thought, he really is, he’s braver than he was giving himself credit for, but- maybe not that brave? Or, rather, he doesn’t have it in him for any other life changing grandiose acts this week. Telling his mom will have to wait for Mo’s next burst of adrenaline.
Her words fade. They’re being rude by looking at each other, not saying anything, but she’s not the kind to hold grudges.
She’s watching them both softly, over the rim of her cup.
“What are you boys gonna go shopping for?”
He Tian turns back to her.
“A school bag, Ms. Mo.”
“…for Guan Shan?” She waits until Mo nods. A single eyebrow raises. “What happened to yours son?"
Shit.
The living room feels weirdly silent, and Mo hopes he’s communicating telepathically to He Tian to shut up.
“It just- broke mom. I was careless, it was my fault.”
She frowns. “How much money do you need for a new one dear? I haven’t gotten paid yet, but I could maybe-“
“Don’t worry about it, Ms. Mo. Momo did very well at this school test, I want to treat him to something.”
Mo’s mom still hesitates.
“Oh. You don’t have to-“
He Tian smiles, the kind of seductive, manipulative look that gets him out of all troubles in school. “I insist, Ms. Mo.”
His mom puts her cup down, sloshing a little as if she’s not paying attention to it.
“When Mo Guan Shan got injured the last time you also paid for his medical expenses. We haven’t had a chance to pay you back yet.”
Her frown deepens.
He Tian’s usual tricks are not working. His mom is suspicious, reading something into He Tian’s words. Mo has no idea what she’s reading into it, but she is.
He Tian’s smile fades, slowly, leaving something more honest behind it. A mask slipping.
“You don’t owe me anything. Guan Shan has helped me in many occasions, truly Ms. Mo. This feels like the least I can do.”
The room is easily silent. Her eyes move between the two of them, pausing on Mo.
She’s focusing on a point in specific, maybe the jacket, maybe the bandages. Her eyes soften. Mo can see her letting it go. It’s not automatic for her, it’s a decision she’s choosing to make. Her shoulders slump.
“Okay. You two be careful.”
That much Mo can promise her. He pinches He Tian out of sight until He Tian nods too.
“We promise, Ms. Mo.”
He Tian fishes his tea and thanks her. He looks all serious, like he means it too.
Idiot.
Mo leans down and kisses his mom’s forehead on his way out. She has a soft smile, looking at the two of them. It eases some of the pressure that Mo is feeling. Or makes it worse, Mo isn’t sure.
The second they’re out sight, He Tian’s breaking the personal space bubble, making himself a hot presence on Mo’s side.
Fucking clingy.
He Tian’s hands slip beneath to the collar of Mo’s jacket. He’s messing with it, pointedly, like it’s a question.
Mo’s stupidly self-conscious. It’s just a jacket, dammit. Mo can wear another one if it’s such a big deal. He slaps He Tian away.
He Tian doesn’t push it. Mo can feel his happiness all the way into the metro though, radiating from him.
“Are we really going shopping for a school bag?”
The way out of the metro is packed. He Tian lead them out at a big shopping district, the kind that smelled like street food before they even stepped past the turnstile, flashing neon signs on all sides of the street. That, plus the sunny Sunday, means there’s people everywhere, children with lollipops, high schoolers in uniforms for the school’s team.
He Tian doesn’t even pause, dodging a big group on the way out.
“Yes.”
“…why?”
“Because you’ll need one?”
Is he serious?
Mo watches the back of his head. Fuck, he’s infuriating. Mo hurries the next step or so to catch up.
Mo wants to say something about how it’s not He Tian’s obligation to get Mo the things he needs, but- fuck. Fuck, there’s no point. Mo knows this thing between them is more complex than that.
Ahead of them, a couple is holding hands. The guy notices something on one of the signs and leans down to whisper in the girl’s ear. It must be a joke. She laughs, and pushes some of her falling fringe back. The guy brings their joined hands up so he can kiss the back of hers.
“…Momo?”
He Tian’s looking at him. He has this calculating glint in his eyes, but whatever, He Tian always has a calculating glint in his eyes.
Fuck, are they ever going to… do something again?
Mo’s fingers close into fists at his side.
He wasn’t expecting exactly a heart-to-heart but they didn’t say anything at all since- since. He Tian didn’t try to do it again and he also didn’t mention it yesterday, not during the entire time they were breaking into his old house’s patio, at the grave, at the fish shop, not when he was leaving Mo at metro entrance and waving goodbye, or when he texted asking Mo to meet again today.
And on the way today he’s still not- not even mentioning it in passing, like, remember the other day, that was a thing happened, right? We’ve actually, honestly, true to fuck, kis-
Fuck. Fuck. Not that Mo wants to talk about it, but- they should, right? Did it change anything? Did they go back to before?
A sting of pain. Mo’s nails dug in a little too hard.
Fuck.
Mo’s being unfair. He Tian doesn’t act like they’re going back to before. But He Tian also doesn’t mention what happened at all, which is so unlike him, it’s uncharacteristic, fuck knows He Tian talks about even the stuff that Mo wants to run from, he makes Mo bare out his past, his fucking fears and embarrassing thoughts and the shit that Mo wants to hide from.
He Tian doesn’t have a fight or flight instinct, it’s always fight, and he’s tackled every embarrassing conversation they’ve had head on. But they kiss and He Tian becomes a Buddhist monk on a silence pact. Mo doesn’t understand.
He Tian could argue that the ball was in Mo’s court before and it was, Mo knows it was, but it’s not anymore. Fuck. Mo was the one who- Fuck. He feels strangely vulnerable. If He Tian wants them to be any different than they were before he could act different.
Different than they were before. Maybe- maybe before already wasn’t exactly normal teenage boys’ behavior. Maybe he’s not acting different because this has been going on for a while.
Or maybe He Tian is fucking with Mo’s head because he gets a twisted pleasure out of driving people fucking ma-
He’s not watching the way he’s going and he almost trips over an uneven patch of the sidewalk. He Tian steadies him automatically, hand on his chest.
“Careful.”
Easy for him to say.
Suddenly Mo’s hands aren’t closed into fists anymore. There’s bandaged fingers slipping between his own, uncurling them. The rough texture feels unexpected against his skin. The fingers slip away and reach around his waist to do the same to the other hand. Their bodies come closer together. He Tian doesn’t hold his hand, his touch has a purpose, lingering just long enough to make Mo release some tension, doing one last soft squeeze and letting go.
“What are you anxious about, Little Mo?”
You, comes to mind, but Mo doesn’t say it.
He does feel marginally better though. They keep walking. Mo doesn’t re-create the distance that there was between them before, lets He Tian walk close.
The bag store has lounge chairs and black white paintings on the walls and stone pattern porcelain floors. It’s not a fucking Prada or wherever else rich people hang out in on a day off but the entire thing feels fancier then Mo is particularly comfortable in.
Mo doesn’t take long in choosing a bag. Any of them work, as far as he’s concerned. He likes a black one and pulls He Tian by the ear when he makes a move for a similar one that is 10x the first one’s price.
“They are literally fucking alike He Tian,” Mo whispers, “what’s the point in spending so much money on something that does the same thing?”
He Tian’s entire face shows what he thinks of that.
“They don’t do the same thing, Momo, the Saint Laurent one has extra pockets for you to separate books from clothes or snacks, and it’s made of a more durable material-“
He Tian himself is not whispering at all. Mo glances around the store on instinct, making sure the employees are busy with another client.
“My bags last fine without-“
“If they did we wouldn’t be buying a ne-“
Mo doesn’t want to draw the attention of any of the store employees but he does slap the back of He Tian’s head, more to prove a point than anything. Dickhead.
“They last fine when they’re not being set on fire He Tian, for fuck’s sake. You will not buy the name brand one He Tian. Save your fucking money.”
“No can do Little Mo.”
Is he serious.
He Tian’s turns to him with this bright spark in his eyes. He’s immune to Mo’s glare. He’s immune to anything thrown his way, really, he seems like he’s happy and it’s a good morning and he’s on his personal Nirvana going shopping first thing on Sunday. Nothing Mo’s saying discourages him.
Mo loses a moment watching that.
He feels the fight draining out of him, slipping away. Fuck. He Tian- he should be happy. He deserves to be happy. And it’s so fucking easy to make him happy too, like it doesn’t take much at all.
He Tian glances at the shelves again. He point at one above them.
“That beige duffel bag would be great for when you’re traveling, you could have a school bag and a travel one-“
“For fuck’s sake, He Tian-“ Mo hates how he sounds much more resigned this time. “Where am I even going to be traveling to?”
“-plus the grey backpack would be great for when you want to mix it up…”
“Are you even listening to me?”
“I always listen to you.”
Mo huffs. That’s a lie.
He ignores the weight of He Tian’s eyes, looking somewhere around He Tian’s chin instead.
“I don’t need a travel bag.”
“It doesn’t have to be for out of town Momo. It can be a bag for when you sleep over, like a place for you to put your toothbrush, a jacket, a change of clothes.”
What.
Mo’s heart thumps just a little too hard.
“…at your place? Why would I be sleeping over?”
The looks on He Tian’s eyes seems to say are you kidding?.
Oh. He Tian’s eyes.
It feels strange to meet He Tian’s eyes like this. It’s not that they avoided eye contact, per se, it’s just that there were all these things that they weren’t addressing since- since, but now it’s there, out in the open, Mo can see it clear as day in He Tian. The glint in his eyes feels knowing and happy and reciprocated, like He Tian can see into Mo’s soul, like he knows things even before Mo thinks them in his own head.
So they- they are actually talking about the other day, then.
Mo can’t hold the stare. His shoulders hunch, like he wants to hide behind them. His heart squeezes in his chest, painfully tight.
“I don’t need another bag to see you He Tian. My school bag works fine.”
“Your clothes would be wrinkled.”
“I don’t- it doesn’t matter.”
It’s taking everything in Mo to be cool and collected about this instead of running and screaming.
He Tian’s watching him. Mo’s suddenly really, really interested in the floor. It’s so stone like, and porcelain, and a floor. Really fascinating stuff.
“You know,” He Tian comments, “you didn’t lend me a single t-shirt the other day. I had to sleep in my street clothes, after I had rolled around in concrete on them.”
What. Mo’s eyes snap up to him.
“Wha- He Tian, I tried to get you to get up and get clean. You wouldn’t listen.”
“I think there was blood in them. You let me sleep in it.”
Is he kidding.
Fucking hell, he’s infuriating. His stupid fucking smirk will drive Mo insane.
“He Tian, I fucking tried-“
“So cruel Momo. You got what you wanted from me, we remember that, and then you were just done with me, leaving me to my own fate. I feel a little used.”
Mo’s first impulse is to want to hit him with the nearest name brand bag, let him pay for it. Fucking hell. Mo remembers his resolution to do better these days and has to count until 15 inside his head.
“Fuck, He Tian, that was on you.”
“I don’t mind you wearing my clothes-“ He brushes off invisible dust from the jacket Mo’s wearing, above Mo’s racing heart. “But I don’t feel very reciprocated here.”
Fuck.
He is. He fucking is reciprocated or they wouldn’t be here. He Tian knows, the chicken dick must know.
Mo feels ridiculously exposed. His heart will beat out of his chest.
Fuck, and why are they even-
“And why are talking about that? So what, now I need to let you buy out a bag store so the same won’t happen to me?” His point doesn’t even make sense.
“You never know when we’ll be sleeping together again.”
Mo could beat a tomato on a red scale.
Fuck.
Mo turns away away and then there's a hand on his bicep, holding him back.
"Okay, okay, I'll stop. Stay here. Truce?"
He looks so fucking proud of himself, not guilty at all. His face anoys Mo.
“Fuck, you’re annoying. Will your credit card even work? It worked at the fish shop but it was blocked when you tried the other day.”
He Tian looks away from him.
“It will work. I had a talk with my brother yesterday.”
He Tian inspects the shelves next to them, row by row, and then reaches for a bag on one of the higher shelves. Mo would have had to go on his tip toes to grab the bag. He Tian is showing off his extra inches in height. Mo’s so distracted that he doesn’t stop He Tian from going for something expensive.
And then Mo process the words.
Oh.
Mo’s shoulders hunch. It’s stupid but He Tian knows almost everything about him, his stupid fears and hopes and the times he messed up in the past and how he wants to do better, fuck, Mo feels achingly vulnerable around him, but- but there’s all this stuff about He Tian’s family that he doesn’t talk about. It’s a frustration Mo can’t put into words. Mo wants to ask, but he knows it’s not his business. He just- he just wishes He Tian could stop being so mysterious, with the manipulative little smiles in place, and he could fucking talk too. Mo wouldn’t freak out if he learned more.
He Tian’s opening the zipper on the bag and sliding two fingers in, to test the thickness of the material. Mo swallows. His frustration gives room to something else. He’s all over the fucking place today.
Behind He Tian, over his left shoulder, a store employee notices him, like a hound sniffing for blood, the dollar bill signs of the commission on almost visible in her eyes. She takes a step closer to them. Mo grows defensive, though fuck knows it’s not her fault. He Tian must be every sales assistant dream.
“He Tian, put the bag back.”
“Three bags and only one of them Adidas,” He Tian tells him, like this is some kind of negotiation.
Is he fucking serious?
“You had been arguing for two, He Tian, and why do any of them have to be name brand at all? You know all of them are made here and some just have an out of country logo stamped on them that makes them cost and extra 0 at the end.”
The sales assistant catches the end of it. He Tian opens his mouth, but she’s faster, she had just been waiting for an opportunity.
“It’s not just the logo at all! I’m sorry to interrupt, I’m Ming Mei, I’ll be happy to assist with your questions today. Are you boys shopping for a travel bag?”
He Tian glances behind himself, but she’s staying a respectable two meters behind them, and He Tian must deem her inoffensive.
“Sure,” he says.
“So it’s really not just the logo. The big brands have all the best designers projecting a piece that maximises storage room, durability and style, so picking the better brand is an investment on your long-term comfort. Plus they work with the best materials to make their pieces lightweight, so in the future you won’t be putting too much strain on your back.”
He Tian’s shit eating grin is the most annoying thing Mo has seen. “See Little Mo? This is an investment on your comfort. We can’t put too much strain on your back.”
Goddamit. This is such rich people talk. Mo hates both of them.
“So let’s make up for it with a lightweight travel duffel bag.” He Tian hands over the bag he picked up to the sales assistant, and the glimpse Mo catches of the price tag makes his eyes bug out. “I want this and the black one on the other shelf.”
“He Tian, for the love of god stop wasting money-“
“And I’ll be taking the grey backpack with the straps-“
“FINE, it's your money, but I won’t use any of it-“
“Two bags, last offer, but you promise to use them.”
Mo should have known he was going to lose that one.
So Mo ends up with two bags that cost what he was making a month in his part time job, plus he also has two notebooks and a fully stocked pencil case. Mo doesn’t complain about those ones. They’re not expensive and Mo will need them. He remembers his resolution to not be the kind of person that the teachers warn He Tian about. Mo clutches his new notebooks in his hands and doesn’t say anything at all when He Tian pays for them.
They’re quiet on the way out of the store. He Tian pulls them left at the intersection next to the store, but doesn’t seem to have any specific goal next. Their pace is slow.
The sidewalk on this part of town is filled with trees along the way, at a spacing of maybe four meters between each. Light flickers in between the leaves, and He Tian looks particularly bright every time the light reflects on his hair. Something in Mo itches, unsettled.
Mo sunk his fingers on that hair just the other day. Mo looks down at them, the phantom feeling on his skin. It felt softer than Mo was expecting. He Tian doesn’t look soft at all on a good day, but he’s calm right now, peaceful, closing his eyes every once in a while and enjoying the sun heat on his skin, and in this moment the hair looks just as soft as Mo knows it is now.
They’re done with the shopping. Fuck, it dawns on Mo. They’re done. Is it now that they’re going to talk? Or now? Or now? Mo’s heart speeds up in his chest.
“Momo-“
Alright. Here it comes.
“Please don’t freak out, but I want to go to this store. You can wait outside if you’re uncomfortable.”
…what?
What store?
Oh. They’re outside a jewelry store. He Tian was, in fact, walking with a goal. Mo was too engrossed to notice.
He Tian is watching the outside display. Mo’s brain is still slow, catching up.
A jewelry store. For fuck’s sake.
“Stop fucking spending money He Tian, save it for something that-”
“If he set your bag on fire but you still have the earrings- you must have gone through some great lengths to retrieve them Momo.”
He Tian turns back and meets Mo’s eyes. He holds the contact.
It’s like a punch. Mo feels horribly, terrifyingly exposed. There’s something raw and pulsing within him and He Tian just reached in and touched it.
Fuck.
Fuckfuckfuck.
Mo knows He Tian could easily close his hand around this thing within Mo and crush, he could hurt, but he’s not doing it. He’s just watching Mo, with so much understating, and Mo wants to close his eyes, wants to run because he can’t take it. He needs He Tian to stop.
“But they broke,” He Tian continues, “so I’m just going to get you a new pair. You freaked out the last time we were at a store like this-“
“You went too far the last time we were at a store like this-“
“And I don’t want you to run on me. I’m really happy we came here today Momo.” And he looks happy as well. “And you clearly want the studs. So wait outside. This is just going to take a minute.”
Fuck, that’s condescending. Mo is not so fragile.
He squirms under the weight of He Tian’s stare. He doesn’t know what He Tian is reading in him, the hawk-like narrowed focus, but Mo is fine. He doesn’t- he doesn’t need to be treated with kid gloves.
“He Tian.”
“So I’m going to get you an extra pair, plus an earring for when we eventually get that piercing done and it’s healed enough to downsize.”
Mo resists the temtptation to cross his arms, feeling defensive.
Okay. Okay, that’s not unreasonable.
“Do you think they can fix my pair too?”
“Probably. Hand them over.”
Oh. Why does everything feels too revealing this days, like He Tian just keeps pulling truths from him, like he can’t stop. Goddammit.
“I don’t have it with me,” Mo tells him, voice barely wavering.
“…yes, you do.”
Fuck
Fuck, fuck, why does he act so confident, where does he fucking get his information from.
“It was on your apartment after I stayed there,” Mo says, defiant.
“Yes. And you stopped by my apartment before meeting She Li.“
The blush that spreads over Mo is everywhere, all the way to his ears.
“I was looking for you He Tian, you disappeared after the hospital-”
“-And you picked up your black studs and one of my jackets.”
“He Tian.”
He Tian’s fingers tilt Mo’s chin up, not letting avoid his eyes.
"You were preparing yourself for a fight and you decided what you needed was a jacket that smelled like me, a gift I gave you on your jeans’ pocket.”
"He Tian."
"Momo you don't know what you do to me."
His thumb touches the space just beaneath Mo's lower lip. Mo's trembling, shivers running from head to toe.
Two of his other hand’s fingers’ brush against Mo’s, without stoping to hold his hand, just a caress.
“And the moment the fight was over all you wanted was to get me alone. I didn’t even finish my soup.”
Fuck. Mo's heart will fucking collapse, it’s beating so hard. He Tian licks his lips, glances down. So they are fucking talking about this.
“He Tian.”
“Hand over the studs, Mo.”
Fine. See if Mo cares. He hands them over.
It feels like an admission. It feels like a promise, somehow.
He Tian takes them, fingers on Mo's.
The heat in his eyes feels intimate to Mo, something in there that is just for Mo to see. Mo can smell him, an expensive cologne that Mo can recognize by a few meters away now. He wonders when He Tian has gotten so under his skin.
One last squeeze with bandaged fingers and He Tian steps away. Way too easily. He takes the heat with him, the tnesion. He nods at Mo and heads into the store.
The street feels louder once he leaves.
Mo's shoulders sag.
He finds a bench half a block away and settles down. He waits outside not because he can't handle being inside the store, but because he could use a moment.
Fucking hell.
There's all this adrenaline pumping into his veins, adrenaline that Mo doesn't know what to do with when He Tian leaves.
He knew what he was getting into, letting He Tian in, he knew it. The entire thing is a problem of his own making. But fuck if it doesn't make him feel a whole bunch of things.
But-
Fuck. Mo is happy.
He is. Maybe he and He Tian deserve to be happy for a little bit. Should be worth the try.