The new house was nothing like the warm, slightly messy apartment Andre had known in Italy.
It was huge. Too huge.
The kind of place where voices would echo if you shouted. Where the air felt too clean, too cold, as if it had been filtered of anything human.
The marble floor reflected the golden light from the chandelier above, and the faint scent of polished wood mixed with something sharper — probably the cologne of the man now stepping inside behind them.
Andre dragged his suitcase over the floor, the wheels clicking softly against the tiles. Celia's smile was a little too bright as she gestured toward the grand staircase.
"We'll be upstairs," she said, turning to Yichen. "The room next to mine is prepared for Andre?"
"Yes," Yichen replied, his voice low and unhurried. "Everything should be ready. If there's anything missing, let me know."
Andre didn't thank him. He didn't even look at him.
Instead, he followed his mom up the stairs, not because he wanted to see his new room, but because the silence downstairs felt like it was closing in on him.
The room was large — much larger than his old one — with pale walls, a big bed, and a window overlooking the city skyline. It was beautiful, in a way that made him feel like he didn't belong in it.
"Do you like it?" Celia asked, setting her handbag on the desk.
Andre shrugged. "It's fine."
Celia's smile faltered just slightly. She stepped closer, brushing a lock of his hair back. "I know this is hard, Andy. But try… try to keep an open mind. Yichen isn't—"
"I don't want to talk about him," Andre interrupted.
Her sigh was quiet, almost weary. "Just… rest for today, alright? We'll have dinner together later."
When she left, Andre sat on the edge of the bed, staring out the window. From here, Z City looked like an endless maze of lights and glass. Somewhere down there, life was moving — fast, loud, and completely indifferent to his arrival.
He should unpack. Instead, he lay back on the bed, pulling his hoodie over his face to block the ceiling light.
Downstairs, Yichen sat in the living room, one arm resting along the back of the couch, a glass of water in his other hand. He wasn't reading the documents on the table in front of him. His mind was elsewhere.
It wasn't usual for him to notice such… trivial details about people. In his world, noticing meant cataloguing information for advantage — posture, tone, patterns of speech. But now, his thoughts kept drifting back to something useless.
Those eyes.
Silver, almost translucent in certain light. They'd been sharp with distrust when they'd met, but on the plane… there had been a moment when Andre's gaze had softened slightly, right before he'd fallen asleep.
Yichen still didn't understand why that memory stayed with him. More than that — he didn't understand why he had fallen asleep beside him.
He never did.
On flights, his mind usually stayed alert, his body tense. The only times he'd rested were under strict security in his own home which was peaceful due to those nightmares which refuse to leave him. And yet… next to that boy, the constant coil of readiness had loosened, and for the first time in months, sleep had come without a fight and peacefully at that.
It unsettled him.
Dinner was quiet. Celia tried to keep a steady conversation going — about the city, about their plans for the week — but Andre only gave short replies. Yichen barely spoke at all, though his gaze lingered on the boy from across the table, just long enough for Andre to notice and narrow his eyes.
Afterwards, Andre retreated to his room again. He sat at the desk, pretending to scroll through his phone, but his mind was replaying the moment on the plane when he'd woken and found the man asleep beside him.
It had been… strange. Not because Yichen was asleep, but because he looked different like that. Less like a sharp, distant stranger and more like—
Andre shook the thought away. He didn't want to think about him.
Later that night, when the house had gone quiet, Andre stepped out into the hallway for some water. The lights were dimmed, casting a soft amber glow along the walls.
He froze halfway down the stairs.
Yichen was there. Sitting on the couch, leaning back with his eyes closed.
Not asleep — Andre could tell by the slow, steady tap of his fingers against the armrest — but resting. Waiting, maybe.
Those eyes opened slowly, catching him in the act of staring.
"Couldn't sleep?" Yichen's voice was low, almost casual.
Andre gripped the banister. "Just getting water."
A faint curve tugged at Yichen's lips — not a smile, but something near it. "The kitchen is to the left."
"I know," Andre muttered, moving quickly past him.
But as he filled a glass at the sink, he felt it — that same quiet, heavy presence. When he turned, Yichen hadn't moved.
He was watching him again, eyes unreadable.
For a long moment, neither spoke.
Then Yichen said, "You remind me of someone."
Andre's brows furrowed. "I don't care."
Yichen didn't reply. But when Andre walked back upstairs, he could still feel his gaze. And for reasons he didn't understand, the memory of the plane returned again — the strange peace of finding him asleep, and the equally strange thought that maybe, just maybe, Yichen had felt the same about being near him. But he doesn't care about those thought. His only concern is the why that man stared, it's creeping him out.
He just want his mom to b happy. He doesn't care about that man.
Yichen still sat there in the living think "should I try going to his room and try sleeping again to confirm?' He pondered' No I should bothered the young boy being his first day here and besides he doesn't like me, I know that for sure'
Have have a lot to do tomorrow no need to think about anything else he muttered.
As he sat there due to him not sleeping even when he tries, thinking "I hope I didn't make the wrong decision this time" 'I need to prepare for tomorrow, dealing with that old man would be easy' he lastly thought as he drift into silence.