Chapter 41— Denial
The courtyard of Z University was alive with the weekend bustle of students coming and going. The campus gates were crowded with voices, laughter, and the shuffle of feet. Among them, Andre walked at his steady pace, hands tucked into the pockets of his clean black baggy jeans. His gray long-sleeved shirt clung lightly to his lean frame, the fabric simple yet neat. A pair of white canvas shoes completed the look—unpretentious, practical, and very much him.
Five months had passed since he'd first stepped into this place as a freshman in the Fine Arts Department, majoring in Graphic Design. Life had reshaped itself into something unfamiliar yet structured. Between Mo Yue's world of cameras, schedules, and endless rehearsals, and the demands of coursework, Andre had learned balance the way most people learned survival.
When he told Mo Yue about his decision to take the entrance exams that June, he'd half-expected resistance. Instead, Mo Yue had surprised him with support.
"You're not quitting, are you?" the star had asked, only half-joking.
Andre's answer had been calm but firm. "No. I'll work part-time. As long as you still want me."
And of course, Mo Yue had wanted him. Andre's professionalism, his quiet maturity, and his refusal to gossip or meddle set him apart. Sometimes even Mo Yue forgot the boy was barely eighteen. Another assistant had been added to share the workload, but Andre's presence was never replaced.
Now, university was another story entirely. It wasn't Italy. It wasn't homeschooling. It was loud, messy, alive—an organism that never stopped moving. And despite himself, Andre had found one constant in this chaos. His roommate and his only friend maybe.Ge Lin.
"An de!"
The familiar voice cut through the noise. Andre didn't even turn his head. "It's Andre, not An de," he corrected, his tone clipped as always.
A slender boy caught up to him, his energy radiating like sunlight against Andre's cool night. Ge Lin—bright, sharp-eyed, and too charming for his own good—fell into step beside him, slipping into his space with practiced ease.
"I tried coming into your room last night," Ge Lin complained, brushing his fringe out of his eyes. "But your door was locked."
"Yes," Andre said flatly, his gaze fixed on the path ahead. "I needed sleep. I was tired."
"But I was in the mood," Ge Lin muttered under his breath, clearly hoping to earn at least a flicker of reaction.
All he got was a low, noncommittal sound.
Ge Lin pouted. "Oh, so cold as ever. Are you going to work today?"
"No. Why do you ask?"
"Good. Then let's do it today—like now." His grin was mischievous, his voice brimming with suggestion.
"I have homework," Andre rejected immediately.
"Oh, come on," Ge Lin groaned, throwing his head back in frustration. "It's been days since we last—well, you know. And I'm tired of those other guys. They're not even close to you. They don't feel as good as you do."
Andre's steps slowed. His dark eyes flicked sideways, sharp and cutting. "I told you already. I don't swing that way, Lin."
Ge Lin smirked, but there was nervousness in the way his fingers tugged at his sleeves. "Yeah, yeah. You keep saying that. You're straight. I know. But, An de—don't you think it's strange? You enjoy it with me. Every single time."
That stopped Andre dead in his tracks.
He turned, his gaze cold and unreadable, pinning Ge Lin where he stood. The words that came out were sharp as glass. "And what's that supposed to mean? That I'm gay?"
The air shifted. A bead of sweat broke at Ge Lin's temple. He raised his hands quickly, forcing a laugh. "No! No, I didn't mean it like that. Don't get me wrong. I don't mind whatever you are. I'm just saying—this is fun, right? That's all. Just fun. Nothing else."
Andre's silence stretched. His stare didn't waver, didn't blink. For a moment Ge Lin thought he'd pushed too far. Then, without warning, Andre turned back to the gate.
"Let's go," he said flatly.
Ge Lin blinked. "Huh?"
"I said let's go before I change my mind."
Relief flooded through him so quickly it almost made him dizzy. He hurried after Andre, his lips curving into a grin.
"You mean it?" His eyes lit up as he spotted a ride pulling up at the curb. "Perfect timing! My ride's already here. Come on, An de, before you change your mind!" He tugged at Andre's wrist with boyish enthusiasm.
Andre didn't resist. He only canceled the booking on his phone, slid into the seat beside Ge Lin, and closed the door behind him with his usual quiet finality.
As the car pulled away, Ge Lin watched him from the corner of his eye.
Andre sat with the kind of self-contained composure that made him seem older than his years, staring out of the window as if the world outside mattered more than the one pressed so close to him inside. His profile was sharp, expression unreadable.
He really doesn't get it, Ge Lin thought, chewing his lower lip. Or maybe he just doesn't want to admit it.
He remembered the first night vividly—the night their fragile, dangerous friendship had shifted into something else. Andre had been careless, or maybe too bottled up, when Ge Lin had walked in on him. The sight had been too tempting, too raw. He'd offered to help, half-expecting rejection. Instead, Andre hadn't pushed him away. He'd allowed it.
That night had set everything in motion.
It wasn't love—at least not for Andre. To him, it was release, an outlet, nothing more. But for Ge Lin, it had become an addiction. Andre's coldness, his unfeeling restraint, and then the way he broke apart in bed, turning dark and overwhelming—it was unlike anyone else. Every time, Ge Lin felt like he was standing on the edge of something dangerous, something that could swallow him whole.
Sometimes it hurts. Sometimes it scares me. But God—it feels too good to stop.
Andre's words would echo in his head whenever they reached that point, whispered through clenched teeth, eyes burning with something unspoken. "I want to break you… I want to feel you break…"
The first time had terrified him. Now, it thrilled him. No one else compared.
Ge Lin smirked faintly to himself. Straight, huh? Sure. Keep saying that, An de. Let's see how long you can keep denying it.
Beside him, Andre remained silent, eyes fixed on the passing city lights.