Chapter 44: Glass Splinters
The room was silent except for the harsh rasp of Ge Lin's breathing and the faint hum of the city below. Cum streaked the glass in pale lines, smearing where his cheek had pressed. His legs were jelly, his body trembling with aftershocks that bordered on pain. Still, something inside him—some desperate, reckless spark—clung to life.
"Clean yourself," Andre said again, his voice flat, precise. His shirt, rumpled from their brutality, clung to his frame like it had been carved to fit him. He had already turned away, moving toward the couch with calm, unhurried steps, as if the last half hour hadn't happened at all.
Ge Lin forced his body to move. His arms shook violently as he peeled himself from the glass, cum and sweat leaving a sticky imprint. Every nerve screamed, but humiliation burned hotter than pain. He staggered toward the coffee table where his clothes lay in a disheveled heap, grabbing a crumpled shirt to wipe the mess from his thighs.
When his voice came, it was barely a whisper. "…Who were you calling out..? "
Andre froze.
It was subtle—almost imperceptible. But Ge Lin saw it. The way his shoulders stiffened, the fraction of a pause before he reached for a unopened bottle water on the counter.
"I heard you," Ge Lin pressed, his voice trembling but insistent. "You… you said a name. You were calling out someone named Yi. Who—"
"Stop talking." Andre's tone was low. Not loud, not harsh. Just… final.
Ge Lin swallowed, his pulse pounding against his ribs. Fear should've stopped him. Fear always had. But tonight—after being bent, broken, remade against that glass—something inside him clawed for leverage, for understanding.
"You keep calling me pathetic," he said hoarsely, the words tumbling out like shards. "You treat me like I'm nothing, and yet—you can't even keep my name straight, can you?"
Andre's hand stilled on the water. Slowly, he set it down.
Then he turned.
The silver in his eyes was glacial. His presence seemed to swell, filling the room until the air itself pressed heavy against Ge Lin's lungs. Still a young man his age but the aura doesn't seem to come from a young man.
"You think," Andre said softly, stepping forward with lethal calm, "you have the right to ask me questions?"
Ge Lin's mouth went dry as Andre crossed the space between them in three measured strides. A hand shot out, gripping Ge Lin's chin with bruising force, tilting his head up until their gazes locked—silver to glassy brown.
"You don't speak unless I allow it." Each word was a blade, deliberate, merciless. "You don't questions that you shouldn't ask. You should know we aren't close of friendship but mutual agreement that you stay out of my business."
Ge Lin's pulse thundered in his ears, but the fire in his chest refused to die. "Then… why did you—"
Andre's other hand slammed against the wall beside his head, making the frame rattle. Ge Lin flinched, breath hitching. Andre's face was inches from his, his voice a dark whisper laced with something raw, something cracked.
"…You're not him." The words slipped like venom, soft but jagged. "And You don't know him, so don't ask about him. Ge Lin know your place!."
Ge Lin froze. His stomach dropped, cold flooding his veins.
"…Then why—" His voice broke. "Why keep me here? Why—"
Andre's grip on his chin tightened until pain bloomed sharp along his jaw. His expression didn't waver, but his breath came harder now, less steady. The mask of control was cracking—not all at once, but in dangerous splinters.
"Because," Andre murmured, leaning closer, his lips grazing Ge Lin's ear, the whisper almost tender—almost—
"…I want to see you break in every way he never did."
Ge Lin's breath hitched violently. His thoughts scattered like shattered glass. That voice—calm, deliberate, dripping with obsession—wrapped around him like chains.
"And when he comes…" Andre's breath was warm against his skin, his tone fractured, muttering now, not for Ge Lin but for himself.
"… He'll know what's waiting for him."
The name slid out again the time full, hushed, reverent, poisonous.
"…Yichen."
Ge Lin's heart lurched. His mouth opened—to demand, to scream, he didn't know—but the sound never left his throat.
Because Andre stepped back.
Just like that, the tension snapped. His face shuttered closed, the silver in his eyes smooth and unreadable again. He reached for his phone, vibrating on the counter.
The screen lit up with a name: Mother.
Andre's jaw flexed. He accepted the call.
"…Mom." His voice was steady now, eerily so, as though the storm a moment ago had never existed.
"Andre," his mother's warm voice floated through the speaker. "Are you well? You sound… tired."
His gaze flicked briefly toward Ge Lin—crumpled against the wall, trembling, silent—before fixing on the city beyond the glass.
"I'm fine," he said.
"That's good." There was a pause, soft static filling the space. "Listen… I wanted to tell you—Yichen's back."
Andre's fingers clenched around the phone until the plastic creaked. His breath stilled.
"He came in this morning," his mother continued cheerfully, oblivious to the ice crystallizing in her son's veins. "I think it's time we had a proper family dinner. Tomorrow night. All of us, together, like old times."
Andre's voice, when it came, was calm. Too calm. "…Yichen."
"Yes." A laugh. "You sound surprised. Don't be shy now—he's been asking about you."
Something deep, primal, twisted in Andre's chest. His heartbeat was a drum, a war cry. His hand trembled once before he forced it still, the grip on his control white-knuckled.
"I'll be there," he said.
"Wonderful. I'll let him know." His mother's tone was warm, oblivious to the sharp silence on the other end. "See you tomorrow."
The line clicked off.
Andre lowered the phone slowly, his expression unreadable. But his silver eyes—oh, they burned. Cold fire, silent and absolute, consuming everything in its path.
Behind him, Ge Lin stared, throat tight with questions he no longer dared to voice.
Andre's lips curved, the faintest ghost of a smile—beautiful, chilling, broken at the edges.
"…Tomorrow," he whispered, almost to himself. The syllables tasted like sin.
"…we would see."
The city lights bled across the glass like veins of molten gold, and in their glow, Andre's reflection looked almost human. Almost.
But his eyes told the truth. He has changed to something unknown