They didn't head straight back to the car right away. They took their time — strolling in a slow arc that led them back past the park, past the vending machine humming quietly under its flickering light, and back toward the street where Xiao Shen had parked.
The can of grape soda was still in Dongxin's hand, half-finished and already warm, but he didn't mind. It felt like a souvenir — a strange little token from a night that wasn't done with them yet.
As they neared the car, Xiao Shen stopped walking. Not abruptly, just… with deliberation. He tilted his head, considering the street like it had whispered something to him.
Dongxin raised an eyebrow. "You good?"
"Yeah," Xiao Shen said slowly, "just—doesn't feel like we're done."
Dongxin followed his gaze. The car was exactly where they'd left it — crooked, tired-looking, under a lazy streetlamp.
Xiao Shen looked back at him, a question hovering behind his smile. "Want to go somewhere?"
Dongxin didn't need to ask where. He just nodded. "Yeah. Let's."
They climbed in, doors shutting with soft, familiar clicks. Neither of them said anything for a while. The silence settled around them like a second skin — not awkward, not cold. Just lived-in.
Xiao Shen started the engine and pulled into the road with quiet confidence. He didn't need directions. His hands knew the route before his brain did. Dongxin, riding shotgun, watched the city roll past, neon melting into night.
As they drove, the city began to peel away — one layer at a time. Streetlights grew sparser. The sidewalks cracked wider. Billboards thinned into wireframes. Trees began to rise where buildings once stood. After ten minutes, they were somewhere else entirely — not quite out of the city, but at its fraying edge.
Eventually, Xiao Shen turned off onto a narrow access road, half-swallowed by creeping vines. He slowed to a stop beside a sloping concrete embankment that led to a forgotten overpass. The sky above stretched out like a painting that hadn't dried — streaked, unfinished, and endlessly open.
"This used to be my hiding spot," he said quietly, putting the car in park. "Before I met you. When I was a kid."
Dongxin glanced over at him. "It doesn't feel like a hiding place."
"It does when you sit on the hood."
Xiao Shen stepped out first and patted the car like an old friend. Dongxin joined him, and together they climbed onto the hood, settling in with the comfort of practiced ease.
The metal was still warm, and the curve of it cradled their backs. Above them, the stars tried their best to punch through city haze. Not many succeeded, but a few sparkled stubbornly. They watched in silence for a while.
"I didn't think you could see stars from here," Dongxin murmured.
"You can't, not really," Xiao Shen replied. "But I like pretending."
Dongxin turned his head toward him. "Is that what this is? Pretending?"
There was a pause. The wind shifted, pulling faint threads of scent from a distant patch of wild jasmine.
"I think it's remembering," Xiao Shen said. "Or maybe… wishing."
He paused, then added, "When I was a kid, I used to come here when things got loud. At home, at school… in my head. This place made it all smaller. Simpler."
Dongxin listened without interrupting.
"I'd just lie here and make up constellations. Pretend I was someone else. Someone braver."
"You're brave now," Dongxin said softly.
Xiao Shen didn't answer at first. "Not always. But you make me want to be."
That pulled something tight in Dongxin's chest. His fingers twitched against the curve of the hood, brushing once against Xiao Shen's. Neither of them moved away.
For a while, they just breathed together. And it felt like the air around them took its cue — calmer, slower, deeper.
"I have something for you," Dongxin said quietly.
Xiao Shen turned to look at him.
Dongxin's hand drifted to the velvet box still tucked into his pocket. His fingers curled around it.
But he didn't take it out.
Not yet.
Instead, he smiled, bittersweet. "Not tonight."
Xiao Shen nodded. "Okay."
Their fingers found each other in the space between. Not clutched. Just resting. Warm.
"I brought you here," Xiao Shen said, "because I wanted you to see the version of me I never showed anyone. Not fully. Not before you."
Dongxin's throat felt too tight for words.
Xiao Shen continued, voice quieter now. "I used to think love was something earned. Like if I did enough, stayed small enough, made myself useful enough… someone would stay."
"And now?"
"Now I think love might just be about staying. Even when you don't know how."
Dongxin turned, pulled one leg up to face him fully.
"You know," Xiao Shen went on, "there was a moment, after your gaokao, when you stopped answering my messages for a few days. I thought I lost you. I thought maybe we'd… drifted too far."
Dongxin's eyes flickered. "I remember."
"I almost came here that night. To sit on this car, stare at fake stars, and feel sorry for myself."
Dongxin reached for his hand again, firmer this time. "You didn't lose me."
"I know," Xiao Shen said. "But it felt real. That kind of fear — it doesn't care what's true. Only what hurts."
They sat in silence for a moment, the weight of shared history stretching between them.
"I used to imagine what it'd be like," Dongxin said, voice hushed. "To sit here with you. Before we were anything. I used to picture this exact night."
"You serious?"
Dongxin nodded. "I think I've been in love with you longer than I was ready to admit."
Xiao Shen was quiet, his eyes searching Dongxin's face like he wanted to memorize it all.
"I'm not always good at saying things," he said. "But I feel them. All of them."
"I know," Dongxin replied.
And then Dongxin leaned in.
The kiss wasn't slow. It wasn't uncertain.
It was inevitable.
Xiao Shen's lips met his with the kind of pull gravity would envy. It wasn't careful. It wasn't planned. It was two years of hesitation and nearlys, burning all at once.
Dongxin's fingers slipped into Xiao Shen's hair. Xiao Shen's hand curled around his jaw. They tilted, shifted, kissed like it mattered. Like it meant.
Like they finally remembered what they'd been aching for all this time.
When they broke apart, breathless, they stayed close. Foreheads pressed. Eyes closed.
"I've wanted to do that since the second I picked you up tonight," Xiao Shen whispered.
Dongxin gave a breathless laugh. "Took you long enough."
Xiao Shen's smile was soft. "Did it?"
They kissed again. Slower this time. Lingering. Familiar. And when they parted again, the silence wasn't empty.
Dongxin laid back on the hood, eyes up.
"You know what scares me?" he asked.
Xiao Shen leaned back beside him. "What?"
"That this is the best night we'll ever have."
Xiao Shen was quiet for a second. Then: "Then let's make sure it isn't."
Dongxin turned to him. "How?"
Xiao Shen's gaze held his. "By doing this again. And again. Until the best night isn't one we already had — it's the one we're heading toward."
Dongxin closed his eyes.
The metal of the car beneath him. The city hum. The scent of Xiao Shen's jacket. The stars, pretending to shine.
It was too much. And not enough.
He opened his eyes again, reached for Xiao Shen's hand, and held on tight.
Xiao Shen let him.
"I used to think love was a story you tell to someone else," Dongxin murmured. "But maybe it's the one you have to write together."
Xiao Shen brushed a thumb across his knuckles. "We're terrible writers."
"Yeah," Dongxin agreed. "But we're getting better at the ending."
A plane blinked across the sky, barely a glint against the night.
Neither of them moved.
"Do you remember when we got locked out of my house?" Dongxin said suddenly. "And we had to sleep in your car with a bag of wet laundry?"
Xiao Shen laughed. "And a single half-eaten pineapple bun. That was dinner."
"And you still said it was the best night of the week."
"It was," Xiao Shen said, looking over at him. "You were there."
Dongxin rolled his eyes. "You're so annoyingly romantic."
"I know."
A pause.
"I love you," Xiao Shen said simply.
Dongxin didn't answer right away. But his fingers tightened around Xiao Shen's.
"I know," he whispered. "I love you too."
They lay there a little longer. Talking quietly. Sharing other pieces of themselves — memories from middle school, strange childhood fears, dreams they didn't even realize they still carried. Dongxin admitted he used to want to be a marine biologist. Xiao Shen said he once practiced signing autographs in case he ever got famous.
They laughed. Teased. Listened. Let the dark hold them like a secret.
And when they did eventually climb down from the hood, fingers still interlaced, neither of them looked back at the overpass.
They didn't need to.
It had already done its job.
They didn't say much once they got back in the car. Xiao Shen adjusted the mirrors out of habit, even though they weren't going anywhere yet. Dongxin sat with his seat reclined slightly, one leg pulled up, elbow draped over the armrest, gaze unfocused.
But his fingers never left Xiao Shen's. They stayed linked — not tight, not fragile. Just… certain.
"Do you ever wonder what we'd be like if we started dating earlier?" Dongxin asked suddenly, voice low, like he wasn't sure the words deserved the air.
Xiao Shen turned toward him slowly. "You mean like… high school earlier?"
Dongxin nodded. "Yeah. Before everything got messy."
Xiao Shen's mouth curled slightly. "We would've hated each other."
Dongxin blinked. "What?"
"You were such a little know-it-all," Xiao Shen said, grinning. "All serious and polite, like you were afraid of breaking rules that hadn't even been written yet."
Dongxin gasped, mock-offended. "And you were insufferable. That hair? Those chain wallets?"
"You loved it."
"I hated it."
"You stared."
Dongxin flushed but didn't deny it.
They both laughed, and the sound filled the car like it had been waiting all night to arrive. Xiao Shen leaned back in his seat, his thumb brushing idly over Dongxin's knuckles.
"But no," he said more quietly, "I think… if we'd gotten together too early, we would've missed it. Each other. We needed the time to become who we are now."
Dongxin tilted his head. "That's frustratingly wise."
"I've been saving it."
Silence settled again, softer this time.
Xiao Shen glanced at him, gaze lingering. "Come here."
Dongxin arched a brow. "We're already here."
"I mean come closer."
Dongxin didn't argue. He unclipped his seatbelt, sliding toward the middle console like gravity had shifted. Xiao Shen met him halfway.
The kiss this time was slower — not cautious, just unhurried. A slow pull, a familiar burn. Their mouths moved like they already knew each other's rhythm.
Xiao Shen's hand slid under Dongxin's jacket, fingers brushing the warm line where shirt met skin. He didn't press. He just touched — the softest anchor.
Dongxin shifted, straddling the gearshift awkwardly, not caring. His fingers found the hem of Xiao Shen's shirt, tugging it up slightly to rest his palm against bare skin.
"You're warm," he murmured, lips ghosting against Xiao Shen's jaw.
"Should hope so," Xiao Shen breathed, eyes half-lidded. "You're practically sitting on me."
"Want me to move?"
"No."
Xiao Shen's hands found his waist, holding him steady. Not pulling — just holding. Dongxin leaned in again, kissing along his neck, behind his ear, jaw flexing under every breath.
"Tell me to stop," he whispered.
Xiao Shen didn't. He tilted his head instead, granting more space.
But they didn't go further — not tonight. Not because they didn't want to, but because some things weren't about rushing. Some things needed space to be remembered right.
Eventually, Dongxin slid back into the passenger seat, flushed and quiet. Xiao Shen watched him with a soft smile, still catching his breath.
"I think I'm gonna remember tonight forever," Dongxin said after a long pause.
Xiao Shen reached for his hand again.
"So am I."