The sound of the front door unlocking had become his favorite part of the evening.
Jiang Xiao Shuai looked up from the couch, hair damp from a shower, hoodie draped loosely over his shoulders. The apartment smelled like warm rice and sesame oil, he had tried to cook again, and almost burned the soy sauce.
Guo Cheng Yu stepped inside, loosening his tie as the door clicked shut behind him.
Long coat. Rolled sleeves. Tired eyes.
But when he saw Xiao Shuai legs tucked up on the couch, hugging a cushion with that stubborn little pout, his whole face softened.
"You cooked?" Cheng Yu asked, voice still low from the chill outside.
"I tried," Xiao Shuai muttered. "It's edible."
Cheng Yu chuckled, dropping his bag gently by the door and padding over in socked feet. He leaned down, brushed Shuai's temple with a kiss.
"You're my favorite meal anyway."
"Ew."
"You weren't saying 'ew' last night."
Shuai went still. "That was... different."
Cheng Yu sat beside him and pulled him close, arms wrapping around his waist. Shuai's head fit just beneath his chin.
"You're always different with me," Cheng Yu whispered. "You pretend to be tough. But you fold the towels in color order and scold me if I forget the bath mat."
"Because it's basic hygiene."
"You wait for me to come home... and warm the food twice if I'm late."
"I... I don't want it to go to waste."
Cheng Yu tilted Shuai's chin gently and kissed him.
It wasn't hurried.
It wasn't teasing.
It was the kind of kiss that melted weeks of loneliness, years of hesitation, and childhood pride all at once.
Shuai sighed against his mouth. "You make it hard to act cool, you know."
Cheng Yu smiled against his lips. "You've never needed to act cool with me."
Later That Night
The city hummed faintly outside their window. A single lamp cast a low amber glow over the bedroom.
Shuai lay back against the sheets, hoodie now gone, bare beneath Cheng Yu who hovered above him, eyes drinking in every inch of skin like he was memorizing it again.
There was no rush.
Only warmth. Patience. Reverence.
Fingers slid along his waist. Lips traced down his chest, pausing over every shiver.
Cheng Yu whispered: "Tell me if anything's too much."
"It's not."
"Tell me if you want me to stop."
"I don't."
Cheng Yu kissed down his abdomen slowly, reverently, as Shuai's breath hitched and his fingers curled against the sheets.
When their bodies moved together, it wasn't wild or frantic. It was soft, slow, and intentional. The kind of intimacy built on months of stolen glances, a night in the editing lab, a shared bed during a storm... the weight of memories pressed into touch.
When Shuai whispered his name, Cheng Yu answered with kisses to his collarbone, his shoulder, his temple.
When Shuai trembled, Cheng Yu held him like he was made of light.
And afterward, when they lay tangled in the heat of each other, Cheng Yu pulled the blankets up and murmured into Shuai's ear:
"I'll never stop choosing you."
Shuai buried his face in his chest and whispered, "Even when I'm annoying?"
"Especially then."
The next morning, Shuai woke first.
The kitchen was quiet.
He wandered out in Cheng Yu's oversized shirt, smiling softly as he poured warm water into a mug.
Their apartment still smelled like last night. Like skin, warmth, and something new.
He didn't need to act tough anymore.
Not with Guo Cheng Yu.
Not here.
Not in this home they'd built together.