The devil's after both of us

Maybe, Míngzé said, before saying he’d figure it out. Ruìsāng couldn’t help but scoff and shake his head at the thought. He suspected that many people failed to recognize just how blinding certain emotions could be. Maybe he had come to this understanding too soon, having spent years longing for a change in his mother that never came.

Ruìsāng to Míngzé's jest that Alastor's single status was due to Ruìsāng's overprotectiveness, feigning surprise. “No. He’s single because you could whip your cock out and he still wouldn’t understand you’re interested,” he clarified. This was a truth Ruìsāng knew all too well from his own teenage years, fraught with a confusing crush on his best friend who remained completely oblivious. Eventually, he had moved on, but not without exploring some… rather bold strategies to make his feelings known.

The profile they were currently viewing brought a sly smirk to Ruìsāng's face. Míngzé’s comment prompted Ruìsāng to let out a laugh. “Because he’s hot, Míng-gē. He looks like he can push you up against a wall and— well, you know,” he shrugged. “He could ramble to you about the history of orange cultivation and the only right thing would be to like it.”

Míngzé remarked that Alastor was a hopeless case, prompting Ruìsāng to gently nudge him with his shoulder. “He’s not,” Ruìsāng chuckled, his affection for his friend evident. To him, Alastor’s endearing nature wasn’t a flaw but rather a benchmark – only someone truly special and patient would be worthy of him.

When Míngzé expressed disbelief about Ruìsāng's dating preferences, considering their age difference, Ruìsāng was quick to retort. “I’m turning twenty-three in a few days,” he pointed out. “Age doesn’t really matter. You gotta learn to ride on an old bike, they work well,” he said with a solemn nod, emphasising the value of wisdom and experience over someone with less experience.

After Míngzé’s observation that Robert was likely on the app solely for sex, Ruìsāng let out a resigned sigh. “And I joined it seeking guys like him. Let’s keep going,” he said, gesturing towards the screen with a definitive nod. Despite the tone of his voice, Ruìsāng playfully swiped right on Robert’s profile.

Míngzé inquired whether Alastor would grasp the hint if someone directly expressed his interest. Ruìsāng responded with a shake of his head, a mixture of amusement and exasperation in his voice. “I once told him outright that I was interested, and his response was to ask, ‘In what exactly?’” Ruìsāng sighed, recalling the moment. “When I clarified that I wanted to sleep with him, he literally took a nap in my bed.” Despite everything, Ruìsāng wasn’t ready to label Alastor as hopeless – not just yet.

At Míngzé’s lack of surprise over this anecdote, Ruìsāng blinked with feigned innocence. “I wonder why,” he hummed, his tone playfully teasing. When Míngzé proceeded to his next question, Ruìsāng chuckled softly, responding with a friendly, “Sure thing, dear,” though his tone suggested otherwise.

The moment Luci’s profile appeared on the screen, Ruìsāng instinctively wrinkled his nose in discomfort. Something about it didn't sit right with him. Míngzé commented on feeling intimidated by her, to which Ruìsāng nodded in agreement. “She's like a sister to me,” he explained, swiftly swiping left to dismiss her profile. The idea of Míngzé and Luci together was something he definitely didn't want to witness. “Let’s move on to the next one,” he said, eager to continue.

As Míngzé pondered whether Ruìsāng had made his final argument in their discussion, Ruìsāng raised an eyebrow, then gave a solemn nod. He was aware that his anecdotes might not be doing Alastor any favours, but Míngzé’s acknowledgment of Alastor’s goodness resonated with him. If there’s anything his life had taught him, it’s that very few people are decidedly good. He certainly wasn’t. So he’d appreciate Alastor for it.

When Míngzé jokingly accused him of being a horrible person, Ruìsāng laughed. The ease of their light-hearted banter was a welcome change from some of the more intense conversations he’d had recently. This kind of interaction, more like the usual exchanges with Alastor, felt comfortable. For Ruìsāng, avoiding problems might be seen as unhealthy by some, but it was a welcome reprieve, a chance to briefly escape.

As they continued swiping through the dating app, Luci’s profile appeared, prompting Míngzé to remark on Ruìsāng knowing many people on the app. Ruìsāng simply shrugged. “I know a lot of people,” he stated matter-of-factly. His connections spanned from the bar’s patrons to university acquaintances, likely covering a significant portion of the app’s user base.

Then, as if the universe had a sense of humour, Ruìsāng’s own profile showed up on the screen. The automated voice from the phone announced his bio, leaving Míngzé staring at the device, seemingly unsure of how to react. Typically, Ruìsāng chimed in with a simple yet affirming,

“It is true.”

Míngzé claiming he didn’t want to know, only fueled Ruìsāng’s determination. He recognized an opportunity to tantalise the other’s imagination, to weave a vivid picture that Míngzé, despite his blindness, could almost see. As Míngzé dismissed the profile with a left swipe, Ruìsāng saw his chance. He leaned in, closing the distance between them with deliberate slowness. His breath was a warm whisper against Míngzé’s ear, his voice a sultry murmur dripping with suggestive undertones.

“Are you sure you don’t want to know?” Ruìsāng teased, his lips hovering tantalisingly close to Míngzé’s ear. “Imagine just what my mouth is capable of,” he continued.

Ruìsāng let out a mischievous chuckle. He slowly pulled back. With a playful glint in his eyes, he shifted his gaze back to the phone screen. “So, who do we have lined up next?” he asked.

The sight of Míngzé’s cheeks flushing red under Ruìsāng’s teasing words brought a sense of triumph, a confirmation of his ability to unsettle and allure. This game of pushing boundaries, a dance he had always mastered, made him the puppeteer, always pulling the strings, always in need for control.

Míngzé’s dismissal of any further imaginings prompted a pout from Ruìsāng. “Well, it’s your loss,” he retorted playfully. Once, he might have pursued such an invitation without a second thought, but now, something held him back. He told himself it was the darkness, the monster within that restrained him. Yet, in the quiet corners of his mind, he knew it was the image of green hair and golden eyes that gave him pause, a haunting reminder of something unattainably pure.

As if summoned by his thoughts, Vince’s profile appeared on the screen, and Ruìsāng felt a jolt of shock. His jaw clenched involuntarily, a reaction he was grateful Míngzé couldn’t see. The sudden appearance of Vince on Charm unsettled him in a way he hadn’t anticipated. He stared down at his lap, wrestling with a confusing mix of emotions.


Why did Vince’s presence here surprise him so much? They were just friends, nothing more – and yet, why did that realisation feel like a loss? He wasn’t meant for anything deeper, or so he had always believed.

Ruìsāng had long harboured a deeply ingrained belief about himself, etched into the very fabric of his being: he was not destined for anything deeper than fleeting connections and momentary pleasures. This belief was more than just a passing thought; it was a conviction, a defining aspect of his identity.

In his world, where control and detachment were his armour, the notion of deeper emotional entanglements was a risk he had convinced himself he was neither equipped nor worthy to take. To Ruìsāng, depth in relationships implied a level of openness and sincerity that he felt was beyond his reach, a realm where his well-crafted defences would crumble, leaving him exposed and unshielded.

His life, as he knew it, was a tapestry woven from threads of temporary joys and superficial bonds. Ruìsāng saw himself as a solitary figure, navigating the surface while carefully avoiding the depths. The idea of delving into the uncharted waters of genuine intimacy, of letting someone see beyond the facade, was both alien and intimidating.


Míngzé’s voice was a distant murmur, barely piercing the tumult of Ruìsāng’s thoughts. He let out a chuckle, but it sounded strained, unconvincing even to his own ears. “So, swipe it away,” he said, gesturing dismissively. If he could just swipe away the profile, perhaps he could also swipe away the confusing emotions that threatened to break through.

Ruìsāng’s red eyes lingered on the screen, fixated on the image that had unexpectedly seized his attention. The intensity of his gaze was palpable, but it soon broke, replaced by a frustrated huff. He was perturbed, not just by the sudden appearance of Vince’s profile, but more so by his own reaction to it. The depth of his annoyance was a puzzle he couldn’t quite solve. He loathed the fact that he couldn’t fathom the source of this agitation, and even more so, he despised the idea of delving into these feelings. To dissect them would be to open a door to realisations he had no business entertaining, to truths he wasn’t ready to confront.

Míngzé, however, pressed on. Ruìsāng wished Míngzé could see the glare he shot in his direction, a silent warning to back off. “It doesn’t matter,” Ruìsāng asserted. “Do whatever you want with it. He’s a good guy,” he added, with a mix of respect for Vince and a distinct discomfort at the thought of Vince and Míngzé together. It was a strange, conflicting sensation – not wanting to speak ill of Vince, yet simultaneously feeling a twinge of something akin to jealousy or possessiveness. These were emotions Ruìsāng wasn’t accustomed to acknowledging, let alone experiencing.

The annoyance brewing in Ruìsāng’s chest only intensified as Vince’s profile remained displayed on the screen. An inexplicable urge for Míngzé to dismiss it, to erase its presence, gnawed at him.

Deep down, a part of Ruìsāng recognized the root of this discomfort, but acknowledging it felt like stepping into a minefield. Admitting even a flicker of genuine interest in Vince felt perilous — it was a path lined with risks and vulnerabilities. Wanting more from Vince meant confronting the harsh truth that he wasn’t good enough. That Vince deserved someone better, someone not marred by the shadows that trailed behind him.

Lost in this turmoil, Ruìsāng barely registered Míngzé's casual comment about disliking a song. His jaw tensed, a physical manifestation of the internal struggle he was battling. The profiles on the screen blurred into insignificance as his thoughts spiralled.

After a moment of contemplation, Ruìsāng broke his silence. “That guy— he's the one I mentioned before. It's just... complicated,” he admitted, the word feeling both inadequate and overwhelmingly accurate. “I don’t know. I’m not used to this. He’s... a good person,” he added, his words stumbling over each other. It was an effort to be somewhat transparent. Yet, even as he spoke, Ruìsāng was acutely aware of how disjointed and fragmented his confession sounded.

Míngzé’s attempt at imparting wisdom came out as: “New things are always a bit eh— new.” Ruìsāng couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at the statement, a smirk playing on his lips as amusement bubbled within him. Míngzé, perhaps sensing the redundancy of his words, quickly brushed it off with a 'nevermind' and shifted the conversation towards whether they should continue.

Ruìsāng leaned back, his demeanour relaxed yet playful. “'New things are always new’?” he repeated, the words rolling off his tongue with a hint of teasing. “Profound insights from Míng-gē, indeed,” he added with a sigh that was more theatrical than exasperated. “But no, I better head back. Got to check on the witch at home,” he said, referring to his mother with resignation. It was like living with a toddler.

He pushed himself up to his feet. “I’ll catch up with you later, yeah?” he said, signalling his departure, taking the blanket and coffee thermos when Míngzé was ready.

As Míngzé suggested it would be wise for Ruìsāng to assist him in avoiding an untimely end, Ruìsāng gave a thoughtful hum, his expression a mix of mock-seriousness and amusement. “Really? And here I was, considering leaving you to fend for yourself,” he quipped, his tone laced with playful sarcasm. Breaking into a grin, he reached out, taking Míngzé's hand in his own and effortlessly helping him up.

Ruìsāng held onto the hand and couldn’t resist continuing the jest. “I knew you've been longing to hold my hand,” he said, adopting the air of a self-assured charmer. “Don't worry, Míngzé, while my heart may belong to another, it’s your hand I shall gallantly hold on this rooftop,” he declared, his voice dripping with exaggerated sentimentality, as he guided the other through the door like the gentleman he was.