"And should I smile because we're friends?"
Zhan Zheng Xi couldn't get those words out of his mind.
To tell it even among the effects of alcohol and sleep, it was Jian Yi, the one who had always thought he was his best friend, despite all the difficulties and misunderstandings that their relationship might have experienced.
Perhaps in part it was also his fault, for the distance he had put between them again when he had reappeared in his life, so suddenly as he had disappeared.
He just couldn't understand? Was he vaguely aware of the things that had been going through his mind when, from one day to the next, he had been unable to see it, hear it or even reproach him for his childish behavior?
If at first, the sense of worry and anxiety had devoured him, with time a resigned disappointment had occurred, followed by a sense of abandonment never felt before.
Jian Yi had been a true selfish person and he had not yet forgiven him.
And now he even allowed himself to spit in his face those words that hurt more than a punch in the stomach.
But above all it was the expression of his face, hardened by an internal conflict of feelings, that remained particularly impressed.
Yi's eyes were shiny, probably not only because of the large amount of alcohol he had in his body, but fulled with unusual frustration and severity.
The cheeks slightly reddened, the jaw nervously contracted. It had seemed different, wounded by who knows what.
Just thinking about it Zhan ZHeng Xi clenched his fists in anger.
"Hey, sleep! You're drunk"
He’d warned him that way, after he had taken him home.
Jian Yi had dropped on the sofa. Already it was barely manageable from sober but from drunk was even worse.
And to make matters worse, he started to mumble meaningless things.
"Why don't you want to sleep with me, brother Xixi? Aren't you my friend?" he’d said, raising his back for a moment.
In response he merely stared at it puzzled raising an eyebrow.
"Come on answer me!" he then insisted the other in a plaintive way, taking the pillow and starting to rub his face over it.
"Of course I'm your friend!" Xixi had responded almost exasperatedly.
Yi had detached himself from the pillow and looked him straight in the eye.
His face had become extremely serious and hard.
"And should I smile because we're friends?"
Zhan Zheng Xi's heart had stopped at that moment.
He hadn't been able to reply.
His thoughts were interrupted by the vibration of his cell phone: it was a message from Jian Yi.
"Hey, are we going to eat something together?"
It seemed that the effect of the hangover from the night before had passed.
Xi, still holding the phone, looked up at the gray January sky.
Initially undecided whether to answer or not, he ended up sending a simple 'Okey, see you in front of the station at seven o'clock'
The phone vibrated again and the boy gave him a quick glance before returning to look out the window.
He felt confused, angry, sad and full of other feelings that he could not name.
Why did it always have to be so complicated? Their two so close, they had ended up inevitably moving away from each other and Xi had the impression that this distance was now impossible to fill.
As much as things seemingly looked like before, they really weren't. They had both changed, especially Yi and this scared him even more than he should.
He needed to talk to him, even though he didn't like to come up with arguments that would put him in difficulty and embarrassed himself first.
"And should I smile because we're friends?"
The idea that the most important person was not happy because of him was the most painful thing that could exist.
Mo Guan Shan would never have ever imagined being able to find himself in a situation like that.
Tears, uncontrolled, fell from his eyes, streaking his flushed cheeks. The bright color he had in his face that time was not dictated by embarrassment or anger but more simply by the continuous rubbing of the face on the shirt of the black suit that he had held in his hands all night and still held in them.
He'd tried to restrain himself to be reasonable, but there had been nothing to do: he could not stop the crying.
The reason was also rather banal and senseless, it was a shame for letting pride fall in.
Guan Shan no longer recognized himself and the blame for this was always and only the same person: He Tian.
He'd entered his life forcefully and without asking permission. He'd made fun of him, beaten him, given the damned torment everyday, but also protected, helped and safeguarded in all possible ways.
He had been away from the country for months and then, just on Christmas night, he was seen coming to the store where he worked. He'd ripped off his cigarette from lips and told him that it hurt his health only to smoke it himself before his eyes. He'd found it annoying as always, irritating his way of putting a packet of condoms in his hands and presenting it to him as his gift.
But who had asked him something? But why didn't he come back where he came from?
He'd been forced to take it with him on a motorbike, he searched his pockets in search of some kind of thing only to find that fucking ring, surely making some strange ideas.
And He Tian's strange ideas for Mo were either embarrassing or create problems.
He'd done nothing but talk nonsense all evening, because he'd forced him to accompany to his apartment and then force him to come up and cook him something since he was hungry.
The redhead would have gladly broken the ladle on his head but succumbed to his request.
Things had partly changed since middle school. Not that their relationship was very different from before, there was only a kind of extra confidence, a thin invisible line that Mo had crossed almost without realizing it and that had led him to somehow accept the presence of the other next to self.
A disturbing but constant presence.
Then things had taken an unexpected turn and Mo's life had found itself rolling away, down an endless descent, falling more and more towards an unknown abyss.
A light knock on the door of his room brought him back to reality abruptly.
"Guan Shan!" he heard himself called "Exit, please"
The mother's voice was plaintive, with a note of apprehension that she didn't hide.
He'd been trying to move him all afternoon but Mo had no desire to leave the comfortable warmth of his room.
And, although he still didn't want to admit it out loud, even the idea of separating himself from that shirt was unbearable.
He rubbed his hand over his eyes in anger, as if to tear off the heavy burden that was nothing but his tears.
"I'm not hungry!" was the only answer he could give.
He heard himself called again and then, as if she understood his state of mind, his mother gave up intent and on moving away from the door.
The young man returned to submerge his face in the black cloth, closing his eyes, while his nostrils were soaked with the smell of tobacco mixed with something that looked like cinnamon.
"Little Mo, don't you even say goodbye?"
Guan Shan had remained rigid at those words, perhaps the only reaction had been the imperceptible contraction of his jaw.
It was all the bastard had told him after he'd eaten the Christmas dinner. Dinner of soy noodles because Mo had no desire to try too hard to prepare anything more.
"What the fuck are you saying?" he replied in turn, believing that the other was making fun of him, as he liked to do.
But He Tian was silent. He'd leaned his head against the pillows of the sofa on which he sat without giving any explanation.
Mo understood at that moment that it was not a mockery at all.
"Go away again?" he found himself asking, taking off the apron he'd been wearing so as not to get dirty while he was cooking, and moving a few steps towards the other.
"Yeah" was the only answer he got.
Those were the last words they had exchanged that night.
Then it all happened too fast.
He Tian had looked at him with an indecipherable smile on his lips, grabbed by a wrist and approached him.
Cheeky as always he had kissed him, just like the first time, going to look for his tongue to give it torment.
Mo had rebelled, refused, had rejected him with all of himself and then ended up with his face crushed on the carpet to surrender to every action that Tian was doing. He had surrendered to kisses, to groans, to sighs, to the uninterrupted movement of the hips, losing every shred of dignity and the light of reason. He would never admit it, even under the worst tortures, but that evening he wanted nothing more than to let himself go.
It all ended with those words: "Little Mo, don't you even say goodbye?"
Because that was nothing but a farewell.
He'd not asked him where he was going, nor the motivations, but Tian's gaze had been the most eloquent there could be.
They would never see each other again.
Mo Guan Shan raised his eyes to the leaden sky of early January.
He was pissed, really pissed off, as he had never been.
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