Page 75 of From Beijing, With Love

After a long moment of afterglow, Yang’s other senses returned, like the pressure of the shower jet on his shoulders, the steam that surrounded them both, and the sight of Daniel’s mischievous smile.

In that moment, he wished Daniel was his, and not just for a day or a week.

Yang helped Daniel to his feet, worried that he’d slip. He kissed Daniel tenderly as his hand traveled south. The moment his hand wrapped around Daniel’s cock, he felt Daniel’s body surrender to his touch. Sinking to his knees, Yang returned the favor with fervor, like it was a competition. It didn’t take long to bring Daniel to his own shuddering orgasm.

Afterward, they lay in bed with wet hair and pruny fingers. Yang’s thoughts drifted to his near confession earlier—the one drowned out by the shower—and wondered what it would feel like to say it again.

He reached over and pushed a curl of wet hair off Daniel’s forehead, and Daniel’s lips caught his lingering hand in a kiss. Maybe there was a world where he said those words out loud again. And in that world, they could stay like this forever.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWODaniel

Dread rose in Daniel’s stomach like a wisp of smoke. He ignored it like a pro. Some people (his therapist) might call this avoidance, but he didn’t care. He just wanted to enjoy this unhurried moment with Yang in bed next to him. With a fingertip, Daniel traced the late-morning light across that elongated muscle along Yang’s spine, not quite able to believe Yang was real.

Yang rolled over and caught Daniel’s hand. Bringing it up to his lips, he kissed Daniel’s fingertips one by one. “Ready for lunch? You have to try the Xi’an specialties before you leave.”

The dread Daniel had tamped down earlier reappeared, reminding him that this beautiful little bubble was just a temporary illusion.

“Tell me what you are thinking.” Yang squeezed his hand.

“I …” Daniel had no words, none that he could say, anyway. He wished he could see more of Yang’s world. And see more of the world with Yang. But he wasn’t entitled to ask for more. Yang wasn’t his to keep.

“I promise the restaurant is clean, with good food and far away from crowds.” Yang followed his words with a kiss, soft and cautious. It made Daniel feel precious and shitty at the same time.

“You don’t have to treat me like I’m breakable, you know.” He propped himself up in bed. The irony wasn’t lost on him, given his breakdown at the train station.

Yang dragged the blanket across his lap as he sat up. “We are all breakable, just with different breaking points. It’s fine.”

“Is it fine, though?” Daniel fought the urge to agree with Yang so they could move past this conversation and on to other things that didn’t make Daniel feel naked (while he was actually naked). “I get anxious over things that are completely mundane to everyone else. And half of the time I don’t even know what I’m anxious about. I just am. I’ve spent my whole life feeling like shit for not being normal. People either coddled me like I’m breakable or quietly tolerated me. And when it got to be too much for them …”

Then they punished him.

Daniel thought about his mom, the vacant stares when he tapped his fingers, the pinched lips when he dashed back home at the last minute to check that the stove was off. Or Taylor, the way he sighed, gave the cold shoulder, and … the other thing. It wasn’t just that he’d cheated; it was who he’d done it with, someone who was the antithesis of Daniel—low maintenance, spontaneous, normal.

A toy that wasn’t broken.

“I know that this”—Daniel gestured between the two of them—“is temporary, which is probably why—”

“I’m not quietly tolerating you, nor am I coddling you.” The hard edge in Yang’s voice wasn’t his usual grumpiness; it was worse. It was disappointment. “The first day I met you, you barely spoke ten words to me while we drove for hours to Mutianyu. And that was after I waited for hours in the lobby for you. Not to mention that you made us climb up the mountain because you were too worried to take the chairlift.”

Daniel threw up his arms. “I get it. I’m a mess.” He had enough self-awareness to know it; he didn’t need the itemized receipt read aloud.

“You are not even close to getting it,” Yang said sharply. “I thought you were this entitled, high-maintenance jerk. Then you had to go and prove me wrong. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I don’t like being wrong.”

Daniel gave a little laugh. “You don’t say.”

Yang’s face softened. “In the past weeks, I’ve gotten glimpses of you when you weren’t worried about anything. You were just you.”

“Wouldn’t it be nice if those moments weren’t few and far between?” Daniel looked away. Maybe in a parallel universe, he was that guy all the time, without all this mental-health baggage.

“Actually, no.” Yang tilted Daniel’s chin and made him look at him. “Because you are a whole person. Who you are right here, right now, is shaped by every part of your past. Of course I want you to be healthy, but that’s not something that you can achieve overnight—”

“Or ever.”

“Let me finish,” Yang said, his brows scrunched. “This is you. Your needs, boundaries, limits, flaws and all. It’s all you. It’s a package deal. There’s no picking, mixing, and matching what parts of you I like or don’t like. Or what’s convenient and easy for me. It’s either that I can love the whole package, or I can’t.”

Did Yang just say love?

Silence hung between them as Daniel replayed each and every word that just tumbled out of Yang’s lips.