The kiss was soft. Slow.
Steady.
Yichen held Mo Fei's face with both hands, his palms warm against trembling skin, providing a physical anchor, close enough to become something solid in the middle of Mo Fei's collapsing world.
"That's it," he murmured against his lips, breaking away just enough to speak. "Follow my breath. In and out. You're okay. I've got you." His forehead remained pressed to Mo Fei's. His eyes stayed locked on his.
There was nothing cold in them now. No arrogance. No distance. Only a sharp, protective intensity that Mo Fei had never seen on him before.
Yichen's thumb moved slowly over his cheekbone, tracing small circles as Mo Fei's breath hitched and broke and tried, painfully, to return.
Mo Fei's eyes fluttered. His vision began to clear. He could feel it now.
Yichen's lips. Yichen's hands.
Yichen's breath, warm and steady against his mouth.
The shock of it snapped something back into place.
Yichen leaned in again, lips finding him before the panic could drag him under. His mouth found Mo Fei's with a tenderness that felt entirely different from the first heat they'd shared. This wasn't about passion, it was about grounding him.
Mo Fei's eyes snapped open.
Is Zhang Yichen kissing me?
His thoughts stopped. Completely.
Yichen tasted of warmth and controlled breathing. His mouth moved against Mo Fei's in slow, deliberate strokes. Every time Mo Fei's breath stuttered, Yichen deepened the kiss, drawing his focus away from the dark noise in his head and back to the body in front of him.
"Yi—Yichen," Mo Fei mumbled.
"I'm right here," Yichen whispered, his voice a low vibration against his lips. "I'm not going anywhere."
He waited.
Gave Mo Fei space to catch up, the silence stretch around them, no longer suffocating, no longer spinning.
The frantic storm that had been tearing through Mo Fei only moments ago began to loosen. Slowly, the world returned in pieces.
The fake grass beneath them. The cold night air.
Yichen's hands. The heavy rhythm of breathing that was not only his own.
One of Yichen's hands slid from Mo Fei's cheek to his neck, his thumb resting gently over the pulse beneath his skin.
Fast.
Uneven.
Still frightened.
Yichen could feel it—the frantic, uneven thrumming beneath his skin—and he stayed close, letting his own steady rhythm become something Mo Fei could hold on to.
After a while, he pulled back by an inch. His eyes searched Mo Fei's face in the dim light.
"Better?"
Mo Fei's breathing was still uneven, but something had changed. The noise in his head had stopped.
Yichen held his face between both hands. "Look at me."
Mo Fei blinked. Once. Twice. "You…" His voice came out hoarse.
Yichen's shoulders loosened almost imperceptibly. "Are you alright?"
Mo Fei nodded slightly. Then, almost immediately, shook his head.
Yichen did not ask again. "Can you stand?" He rose first, then helped Mo Fei up.
Mo Fei's legs gave out beneath him. Before he could fall, Yichen caught him.
In one swift movement, he lifted Mo Fei into his arms.
Mo Fei did not protest.
He only pressed closer, burying himself against Yichen's chest as if he could disappear there, just for a moment, from the lights, the voices, the gala, the memory, everything.
Yichen looked down at him, tightened his hold and said. "I'll take you home." He turned and began walking away.
Far from them, beneath the shadows, a figure stood with a champagne glass in hand.
Tang Wei.
He stepped out slightly, expression calm, gaze unreadable.
He had arrived late enough to miss the beginning. But not late enough to miss Zhang Yichen kissing Mo Fei.
Tang Wei raised the glass to his lips and drank. To think he had almost begun to get bored of the industry.
💜~~~~~~
Yichen carried Mo Fei all the way to the car without saying another word.
Outside the venue, the night air was cooler, quieter than the endless noise of the gala behind them.
He carefully lowered Mo Fei into the passenger seat, making sure his head did not hit the door frame. Mo Fei did not react. His eyes remained closed, his breathing finally steady, but the traces of the storm he had just endured were still written across his face.
Yichen stepped back. That was when he noticed his phone. It had been vibrating almost nonstop in his pocket since he left the hall.
He pulled it out. Several missed calls.
A dozen messages. Most of them were from Sima Li.
Sima Li: Where are you?
Sima Li: Yichen, answer your phone.
Sima Li: We can't find Mo Fei. He left and nobody knows where he went.
So they had noticed. Yichen quickly typed a reply.
Yichen: I'm fine. Mo Fei is with me.
The response came almost immediately.
Sima Li: ?????
Yichen stared at the screen. Even through a message, he could feel Sima Li's confusion.
Yichen: I'll explain later. Tell his friends he's safe.
Sima Li: Okay.
Yichen put his phone away. His gaze returned to the passenger seat.
Mo Fei had curled slightly towards the window, lashes resting against his cheeks. The same person who had stood beneath hundreds of cameras earlier, smiling as if nothing in the world could reach him, now looked impossibly fragile.
There were still traces of tears on his face.
Yichen frowned.
He did not understand why it bothered him.
That was the part that annoyed him the most.
He had known Mo Fei before.
Mo Fei had been timid. Easily frightened. Someone who apologised too quickly and lowered his head too often.
But after the scandal...
This Mo Fei was different. Loud. Shameless. Arrogant. Impossible to control. He argued with everyone. He insulted people without hesitation. He walked through the world as if it belonged to him.
Yichen had thought nothing could hurt him.
He had been wrong.
Slowly, Yichen leaned down. His hand moved before he could stop himself. His thumb brushed away the tear resting near Mo Fei's cheek.
The contact was gentle, he let his fingers lingered for a moment before he realised what he was doing and pulled back.
He watched Mo Fei's sleeping face.
"Why are you like this?" he murmured.
There was no answer. Only the quiet rhythm of Mo Fei's breathing.
Yichen's brows drew together.
He had seen Mo Fei laugh after being insulted. He had seen him turn embarrassment into a joke and pain into arrogance.
But this... This was something else. And for some reason, it unsettled him more than it should have.
"You really are troublesome." The words sounded familiar. Almost like an insult. But his voice lacked its usual sharpness.
Yichen closed the passenger door carefully and walked around the vehicle. He sat in the driver's seat, started the engine, then glanced once more at the person beside him.
The man who had brought nothing but chaos into his life since they met was finally quiet.
And somehow, Yichen found that even more unsettling.
The car pulled away from the HET Gala, leaving behind the lights, the cameras, and the world that demanded everyone wear a perfect mask. For tonight, at least, Mo Fei did not have to pretend.
And neither did he.