Zitao waits with bated breath for Sehunâs response - a smile, a frown, a twitch in his jaw, something. He can feel something welling up within him with alarming intensity, but refuses to acknowledge that it's tears even as his throat burns and his face starts to feel hot. Sehunâs face is still blank, and Zitao wonders if the other realizes how much courage it took to come to the bus stop today; how many nights were lost to thought instead of sleep, how many steps were stripped of purpose and put toward useless pacing as he debated seeing Sehun, only to shy away from the idea over and over again. He wonders if Sehun can tell heâs barely holding himself still, that he wants to shake with the fear of rejection thatâs gnawing away at him.
His eyes fall away from Sehunâs face and instead he looks at his boots, how theyâre worn and streaked with rain. His heart feels like a stone in his chest, heavy, sinking inch by inch, dislocating to the point of pain. Inhaling deep, Zitao sets his jaw and forces steely eyes back on Sehun. He didn't come all this way to run, after all.Â
He expects anger or maybe nothing at all, but then Sehunâs expression of indifference melts away. Zitaoâs heart gives a startled lurch at the sudden, blatant affection there and heâs taken aback.
âSehunâŠâ he breathes, shocked, face scrunched almost comically as the otherâs hand cups the back of his neck and draws him close. Their foreheads bump, noses brushing, and Zitao exhales unsteadily at the sudden proximity. His hands grip at the sides of Sehunâs shirt, like the rain will wash this moment away if he doesn't hold on. Before he can stop it tears start to pool in Zitao's eyes, making the bottom edges of his vision blurry.
âI thought you didn't care,â he admits, blinking hard to get rid of the tears. They slip down his cheeks anyway, clinging to his dark lashes as he looks into Sehunâs eyes. âI thought it... it wouldn't matter if I stayed or went. You always look so-" his voice breaks, and he feels terribly embarrassed. Closing his eyes to compose himself, Zitao swallows past the lump in his throat and tugs Sehun a little closer until the chill of the rain pales in comparison to the body heat between them.
â âm sorry for worrying youâŠâ he murmurs, opening his eyes. reaching up to cup Sehunâs cheek with one hand. He strokes the other's high cheekbone with his thumb, feeling silly for his tears. Heâs sure his nose is bright red now. âI donât want to run away anymore.â
Zitao moves the hand on Sehunâs cheek, fingertips skimming lower down the length of the otherâs throat, along the width of his broad shoulder, and down a toned arm. He pauses at Sehunâs hand, intertwining their fingers.
âBack them up, huh?" A small smirk quirks the edges of Zitaoâs lips; it looks out of place when his nose is red and he appears akin to a rain drowned kitten, but itâs there all the same. "Iâm sure youâll find ways to keep me responsible.â
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