Originally, they made an appointment for a four-person trip, but before departure, they were temporarily cancelled due to a sudden situation. In the end, only Arnold and An Zekang were left. Unfortunately, as soon as they received the news that their companions were absent, the sky began to drizzle without warning. They decided to go to Arnold's house to shelter from the rain, but the rain was getting faster and faster. They trotted all the way down, but they were still drenched. Has become a veritable "drowned rat". As soon as he entered the door, Arnold just wanted Anzekang to change his clothes first, but his eyes inadvertently fell on his wet white T-shirt-the close-fitting cloth outlined a faint outline.Arnold was stupefied, hurriedly covered up with the usual slapstick tone: "Ha ha ha, you look like a drowned rat is too miserable, who let you wear white, this is all through!" Not to be outdone, An Zekang responded with his eyes sweeping over Arnold's equally wet white pants. He just wanted to point them out, but his hand paused. He wanted to see more clearly, but Arnold suddenly turned around. An Zekang sniggered in his heart, thinking that Arnold was probably single all the year round and thin-skinned, so he didn't say any more, but muttered in his heart:"They're all men. There's nothing to hide from." He was about to take the initiative to go to the bathroom to change clothes, so as not to embarrass Arnold, but his feet did not notice the water on the ground, suddenly slipped, and his body fell forward uncontrollably. "Hiss.." The expected pain did not come. An Zekang opened his eyes and found himself on Arnold. He hurriedly tried to stand up and apologize, but his wrist was grasped by Arnold, and there was a burst of strength from his waist. Arnold clasped his waist tightly with both hands, and his voice was a little hoarse: "Did you do it on purpose?" Ann
An Zekang retorted, his gaze darting over to Arnold's equally soaked white pants. Just as he was about to point it out, his hand paused. He tried to get a closer look, but Arnold suddenly turned around. An Zekang chuckled to himself, figuring Arnold was probably shy due to his years of singleness, so he said nothing more, muttering to himself, "We're all men, what's there to hide about?"
He was about to go to the bathroom to change clothes, sparing Arnold any embarrassment, when he lost sight of the puddle on the floor, slipped, and fell uncontrollably forward.
"Hiss..." The expected pain didn't come. An Zekang opened his eyes and found himself on top of Arnold. He hurriedly tried to stand up and apologize, but Arnold grabbed his wrist and felt a force on his waist. Arnold's hands tightly clasped his waist, and his voice was a little hoarse: "Did you do this on purpose?"
An Zekang only then realized the touch beneath him, his cheeks instantly burning. He tried to move away, but the grip on his waist tightened even more as he moved. He heard Arnold's muffled groan: "Uh-huh..." That groan completely panicked An Zekang, fearing he'd hurt the other person. He could only sigh helplessly: "Arnold, can you please let go first? I need to get up so you can go to the bathroom."
Arnold's fingertips still felt the coolness of the fabric they'd gripped. Hearing An Zekang's words, he didn't immediately loosen his grip on his waist. His fingertips unconsciously brushed against the warm skin beneath his wet clothes. His Adam's apple rolled before he spoke in a hoarse voice, "Don't move." An Zekang froze, not daring to move. He could smell the scent of soapberry mixed with rainwater on Arnold's body, along with a faint, burning, youthful aura. He could clearly feel Arnold's chest rising and falling faster, and the hand holding his waist trembling slightly, clearly reaching the brink of utter embarrassment.
"I won't move. Please let go. I'm too heavy for you, and you won't feel comfortable." An Zekang softened his tone, trying to sound natural—he feared any further haste would only embarrass Arnold. Arnold was silent for a few seconds, then slowly loosened his grip. He didn't immediately move away, but simply tilted his head, his ears reddening. An Zekang took the opportunity to push himself up, reaching for him as he regained his balance. But Arnold suddenly stood up and, almost as if fleeing, headed towards the bathroom, leaving behind only a vague, "Find yourself some clean clothes. The closet is in the second bedroom."
An Zekang glanced down at his still-dripping T-shirt, then turned and headed for the second bedroom. As he opened the closet, he casually found a loose gray sweatshirt. As his fingertips touched the fabric, he remembered Arnold's grip on his waist and that suppressed groan, and his cheeks began to heat up again. When An Zekang finished changing and emerged, the bathroom door was still closed, and he could faintly hear the sound of running water. He walked into the living room, grabbed a dry towel from the coffee table, and poured a glass of warm water next to it. He hadn't sat down for two minutes when he heard the bathroom door click open.
Arnold changed into a black long-sleeved T-shirt, his hair still dripping wet. As if nothing had happened, he walked over to the edge of the sofa and sat down. An Zekang saw him and handed him a dry towel: "Wipe your hair, don't catch a cold." Arnold took the towel and rubbed it roughly on his head twice. His voice was still a little muffled: "Sorry about that..."
"Why apologize?" An Zekang smiled, pushing the warm water toward him. "If I hadn't slipped, this wouldn't have happened. Besides, we're all men, there's nothing to be fussy about." Despite his words, Arnold's grip on the towel didn't loosen. After a long silence, he whispered, "You... don't feel uncomfortable, do you?" An Zekang looked at the reddened tips of his ears and teased him, "I'm fine, but I wonder if someone felt uncomfortable holding it in just now?"
"You!" Arnold suddenly looked up, a hint of embarrassment in his eyes, but when he met An Zekang's, he quickly lost his temper. He grabbed the water cup, took a sip, and said in a voice as thin as a mosquito's buzz, "Stop talking." An Zekang, seeing his expression, stopped teasing him and instead picked up the remote to turn on the TV. "It looks like the rain hasn't stopped yet. Since we can't go out anyway, why don't we stay home and watch a show?"
Arnold's fingers twitched around the water cup, and he stole a glance at the person beside him. Seeing that he looked calm, not brooding over what had just happened, he softly hummed a "hmm" and quietly slid closer to An Zekang on the sofa. The film's light and shadows played across An Zekang's sleeping face. The drama on the screen was still throbbing, but he had already given in to sleepiness. His head tilted slightly to one side, his breathing even. Arnold observed him silently for a moment, his fingertips unconsciously stroking the corner of his shirt. Finally, he stood up and slowly walked over to him.
He crouched down, his gaze fixed on An Zekang's slightly parted lips, his Adam's apple rolling slightly. Back in school, he'd always approached him under the guise of "brotherhood"—putting his arm around An Zekang's shoulders as he walked through the hallway, squeezing in close with him under the pretext that his deskmate wasn't home. But only he knew how many secrets were hidden in the white knuckles and racing heartbeats of each arm he wrapped around his warm shoulder. This time, he didn't hold back. He gently touched An Zekang's lips, and when he saw he wasn't awake, he slowly pried his teeth apart with his fingers, deepening the cautious kiss. An Zekang seemed to sense something in his sleep, a soft moan escaping his throat. Arnold paused, his heart nearly leaping out of his chest.
He quickly opened his mouth, the warmth of the other's lips still lingering on his fingertips, but his rationality quickly returned—An Zekang was straightforward, as evidenced by his girlfriend and the topics he'd discussed in school. He couldn't be impatient, and he couldn't let this long-buried affection ruin their current brotherhood, or they wouldn't even be friends anymore. Arnold raised his hand and gently brushed away the strands of hair from An Zekang's forehead. His voice was so soft it sounded like a sigh: "Take your time, Kang. I'm patient."