They didn't head straight back to the car. Instead, they walked — slowly, without purpose — down the stretch of sidewalk beyond the noodle shop. The air was thicker now, humid in a way that clung to their skin, and the only real sound came from their footsteps and the faint metallic hum of a vending machine a block ahead.
The shop's lantern light faded behind them. In its place, the city narrowed. Apartments loomed three or four stories tall, all with metal bars over the windows and cracked flowerpots on the ledges. A few curtains shifted with movement inside, but no one looked out.
The streets here had fallen into a kind of hush — not quite silence, just… reduced. Like even the city had decided to take a breath.
Xiao Shen reached up and laced his fingers behind his head as he walked, elbows flared wide, like he needed to stretch out into space that wasn't really there. His shoulders rolled slowly with each step, jacket hanging open.
"That was good," he said at last. "You liked it, right?"
Dongxin nodded, keeping his gaze on the sidewalk ahead. "Yeah. Better than I remembered."
Xiao Shen hummed like he wasn't surprised, hands still behind his head. "I still remember the first time I dragged you there. You were so suspicious of the cucumbers. Like I was trying to feed you pickled poison."
"They looked weird," Dongxin said defensively. "And you didn't warn me they were cold."
"They were supposed to be cold. That's the point."
"I was betrayed."
"You ate the entire bowl."
"Out of politeness."
"You licked the bowl."
Dongxin rolled his eyes, but the smile that slipped out was real this time, however reluctant. Xiao Shen had a way of rewriting their shared history like he was narrating a sitcom — half fiction, half exaggeration, all heart. And somehow, it always worked.
"Do you remember that night after the music festival?" Xiao Shen added, bumping his shoulder lightly against Dongxin's. "You passed out on my couch because you swore my bed was 'too judgmental.'"
Dongxin groaned. "Don't bring that up. I was exhausted and covered in face paint. Your bed looked like it belonged to someone who owned multiple spreadsheets."
"It does."
"Exactly."
They both chuckled, the kind of laughter that came easily and settled deep in the chest. The silence that followed wasn't awkward. It was… companionable. Familiar. The kind that only came from years of knowing each other inside and out, from scars earned together and inside jokes no one else would ever understand.
They turned a corner where a crooked streetlamp cast uneven light over the edge of a park — not a big one, more like a forgotten city wedge filled with rusted benches and an old play structure with half its paint peeled. The plastic slide had a crack near the bottom. Someone had left a juice box under one of the swings.
Xiao Shen slowed as they passed it.
"I used to play there," he said, voice lower now.
Dongxin glanced at him.
"My grandmother used to bring me after school when I was in primary. She'd sit on that bench—" he nodded toward the one closest to the light—"and give me White Rabbit candy if I didn't cry when I scraped my knees."
"Did you cry?"
"Constantly."
Dongxin smiled faintly. "Sounds about right."
"She kept those tiny strawberry candies in her purse too," Xiao Shen added. "You know, the ones wrapped in fake foil with little green twists? I hated them, but I always pretended I didn't, so she'd keep giving them to me."
"That's evil."
"I was a child of chaos."
Dongxin could almost picture it—Xiao Shen with scraped knees and sticky fingers, hair sticking out in every direction, probably launching himself off the swing set like a cartoon character.
There was something surreal about being here now, standing on the same sidewalk where Xiao Shen had cried over a busted shoelace. Time didn't move in a straight line—it folded, curled, looped back on itself. They weren't just here now. They were here then too. Just… smaller. Less certain.
They stopped walking, just for a moment, at the entrance to the park. Neither stepped inside. The silence between them had shifted — not uncomfortable, but heavier now. Denser.
"I miss her sometimes," Xiao Shen said. "She had this way of humming to herself like the world wasn't worth rushing through. I think I inherited that part."
"I've never heard you hum," Dongxin said.
"You just don't pay attention."
"I pay too much attention," he said quietly.
That made Xiao Shen turn to look at him.
Their eyes met, and for a heartbeat, neither looked away.
Then Xiao Shen nodded toward the vending machine just beyond the park fence. "Come on. I owe you a drink."
"You already bought dinner."
"That was for feeding you. This is for tolerating me."
Dongxin followed, the soles of his shoes scuffing slightly against the cracked concrete.
The vending machine was old, one of those hybrid models that carried both soda and cigarettes. Its glass front was smeared and the backlight flickered, but it still worked. Xiao Shen pulled a few coins from his jacket pocket and leaned in to read the selections.
"You're not going to get the grape soda again, are you?" Dongxin asked.
"Why not?"
"Last time you made me try it and I almost lost consciousness."
"You're dramatic," Xiao Shen said. He punched in the code anyway.
The can dropped with a hollow thunk. He reached down, wiped off the top with the hem of his sleeve, and handed it to Dongxin.
"For the road," he said.
Dongxin accepted it with a slight shake of his head. "This is how you express affection? Poison?"
Xiao Shen smiled, stepping closer, the space between them narrowing.
"It's how I say I like you and hope you'll survive."
Dongxin held the can, cold against his palm. He stared down at the aluminum, heart thudding louder than seemed appropriate. It would be easy — so easy — to reach into his pocket now. To say the words. To change the shape of everything.
But Xiao Shen turned away before he could.
"Let's keep walking," he said, already heading back to the sidewalk. "I'm not ready to go home yet."
Dongxin fell into step beside him, their shoulders brushing once, briefly. Neither pulled away.
"You always say that," Dongxin said after a moment. "You're never ready to go home."
Xiao Shen tilted his head slightly. "Maybe because home's not a place. It's more of a… moving target."
"Like a vending machine with bad lighting?"
"Exactly," Xiao Shen said, grinning. "Very hard to hit. Often disappointing."
Dongxin snorted. "Romantic."
"You knew what you signed up for."
They passed a convenience store with its gate half-pulled down and a flickering neon sign that buzzed like an insect trapped in glass. The warm glow made their shadows stretch long and uneven across the pavement. Xiao Shen slowed just enough for their footsteps to sync again.
"I think about it sometimes," he said, more to the air than to Dongxin. "Like what it means, the stuff we carry with us. The places we keep coming back to."
Dongxin glanced at him. "You mean like this street?"
"Yeah. And the stupid noodle shop. And… you."
Dongxin's steps faltered just slightly.
"You're one of those things," Xiao Shen added, almost sheepishly. "Something I keep coming back to."
Dongxin stopped walking.
Xiao Shen didn't notice at first. He got half a step ahead before realizing the space beside him had gone quiet. When he turned, Dongxin was staring at him — unreadable, still.
"What?"
"You say things like that and expect me not to short-circuit."
Xiao Shen rubbed the back of his neck. "I didn't mean it in a weird way."
"You never mean it in a weird way," Dongxin said. "But it always is."
They stood there for a moment. A single car passed at the end of the block, headlights spilling long shadows over their feet and then vanishing.
Dongxin stepped forward again, bridging the distance.
"You want to know what I keep coming back to?" he asked.
Xiao Shen met his eyes.
"This," Dongxin said. "Us. Whatever this mess of sarcasm and noodles and vending machine poison is."
Xiao Shen's smile softened, no smirk this time. Just something quiet. Genuine.
"Yeah," he said. "Me too."
They walked for a while without talking.
Just the sound of their footsteps and the occasional fizz of the soda can as Dongxin took careful sips. The grape soda was just as bad as he remembered, but he drank it anyway. Because Xiao Shen had chosen it. Because some part of him was still waiting for the right moment to reach into his pocket and change everything.
But the moment refused to show up. It stayed curled behind his ribs, half-born and restless.
Eventually, they reached another intersection — this one a little busier. A crosswalk blinked red at them, counting down time neither of them was in a hurry to reclaim. The streetlamps cast long glows over shuttered storefronts and old bicycles locked to rusted railings.
"Do you remember the first time we stayed out this late?" Xiao Shen asked suddenly.
Dongxin glanced at him. "You mean the rooftop?"
"Yeah. Summer after your gaokao. We brought that nasty peach soju and those awful rice crackers."
"You insisted on the crackers."
"I thought they were going to be sweet!"
"They were dust."
"They were a textural experience."
Dongxin laughed, and the sound caught him by surprise — loud and unguarded. Xiao Shen looked over at him and smiled, not teasing this time. Just watching.
"That was a good night," Xiao Shen said. "You were sprawled out like a corpse and told me the stars looked like spilled teeth."
"I did not."
"You did," Xiao Shen said. "I wrote it down."
"You keep notes on me?"
"Only the poetic moments. You're very dramatic when you're tired."
Dongxin rolled his eyes, but the laughter hadn't quite left his throat yet. It was still lingering behind his teeth, ready to escape.
"You fell asleep," he said. "Halfway through telling me about constellations."
"Was I wrong?"
"No," Dongxin said softly. "You were beautiful."
That quieted things for a second.
The crosswalk light turned green, but neither of them moved.
Dongxin looked down at the can in his hands — nearly empty now. Condensation slicked the sides and gathered at his fingers. The velvet box in his pocket was a weight, persistent and unignorable, like it had a pulse of its own. He kept brushing against it by accident. Or maybe on purpose.
"Why now?" he asked suddenly.
Xiao Shen tilted his head. "Hm?"
"Tonight. This dinner. The detour. The grape soda."
A beat.
Xiao Shen leaned against the nearest pole, his shoulder dropping against the cool metal. His expression wasn't guarded, exactly, but it wasn't fully open either.
"It just felt right," he said. "I wanted to do something that felt like us."
Dongxin raised an eyebrow. "Sticky tables and vending machine sabotage?"
"That is us," Xiao Shen said with a grin. "But also… I don't know. I guess I've been thinking lately."
"Dangerous."
"Shut up," Xiao Shen said, but he didn't look away. "About where we are. How far we've come. And how, even when I screw things up, you're still there."
Dongxin was quiet.
"I don't know how long we get," Xiao Shen went on. "But I want to keep trying. For you. With you."
There it was again. The feeling — tight in Dongxin's chest, swelling under his skin.
He took a breath. It could've been the moment.
But then a car sped by, too close and too loud, blasting tinny music through rolled-down windows. The air snapped. The spell broke. Xiao Shen laughed and shoved his hands in his pockets.
"Okay, enough of that," he said. "I've reached my vulnerability quota for the year."
Dongxin exhaled slowly, trying not to laugh too.
"You're lucky you're cute," he muttered.
"I know," Xiao Shen said. "I weaponize it responsibly."
They crossed the street and kept walking. Side by side. Shoulder to shoulder.