Chapter 77 - Morning kisses

Chapter 77: Chapter 77 - Morning kisses

Jua Gu woke to the mattress shifting beside him.

He kept his eyes half-closed while Mao Mao sat up, his hair flattened on one side and his expression still heavy with sleep. For a few seconds, the man seemed occupied with the simple task of waking. He rubbed his face, yawned, then turned toward Jua.

The moment he saw him, his hand stopped.

Jua looked back.

Mao Mao’s gaze moved over his face before settling on his open eyes. There was that brief hesitation again, as though he needed a moment to believe what he was seeing.

Then he smiled.

It changed his whole face. Jua had already noticed that, but he still wasn’t prepared for how pleased the man could look over something as ordinary as finding him awake.

Mao Mao reached behind him to straighten the pillow that had slipped during the night, supporting his shoulder until it was settled properly. He yawned halfway through, turning his face away as though trying to hide it.

Jua watched him.

"You could sleep a little longer."

Mao Mao shook his head. He remained close after finishing with the pillow, his hand resting lightly beside Jua’s arm.

"I used to dream about this."

Jua’s fingers stilled against the sheet.

"Waking up and finding you looking at me." Mao Mao glanced down, his smile becoming smaller. "Sometimes you’d complain because I was lying on your arm. Sometimes you’d ask me to open the curtains."

His thumb moved over a crease in the bedding.

"I always woke up before I could answer."

Jua remembered the schoolboy putting his fingers back into an unresponsive hand, waiting for a movement nobody else could confirm. He had felt how convincing that hope could be, how quickly it filled every part of the room.

Now Mao Mao was sitting here with sleep still in his eyes, looking almost shy about having admitted it.

Jua shifted his hand toward him.

Before he could decide what to say, Mao Mao cupped his face.

His palm was warm. Jua looked up into eyes that were clear of the red he had seen in the car, their grey-green softened by the morning light.

"Thank you for coming back to me, Jua Ge."

The words made something tighten painfully behind Jua’s ribs.

Then Mao Mao leaned closer and kissed him.

It was a soft kiss, brief enough that Jua barely had time to react. He went still beneath it, his hand resting uselessly between them while his mind caught up with what the man had done.

There was no blood.

No warmth spreading through his channels, no current of demonic energy to follow.

Just a kiss.

Mao Mao drew back a little, still holding his face. His gaze dropped to Jua’s mouth, and he brushed his thumb lightly across his lower lip.

Jua became uncomfortably aware of the touch.

He had returned a kiss yesterday. He remembered that perfectly well. Apparently, remembering it did very little to prepare him for being kissed again without warning, before he had even managed to sit up properly.

Mao Mao looked far less troubled by the situation.

"Do you need some energy today?"

"I..." Jua cleared his throat. "No. There’s still plenty from yesterday."

He placed a hand against the man’s chest and eased him back, mostly because having him this close made it difficult to arrange his thoughts.

Mao Mao glanced down at the hand, then smiled again.

"Okay."

That was it.

He released Jua’s face, slipped out of bed, and stood with a stretch that pulled his shirt tight across his shoulders.

Jua remained against the pillows, watching him.

The man looked absurdly content. There was a looseness to his movements that hadn’t been there when he first arrived at the hospital, and he no longer checked Jua’s expression every few seconds as though expecting something terrible to happen.

One kiss, and he was apparently ready to have an excellent day.

Jua touched his own mouth before catching himself and lowering his hand.

Mao Mao was already heading toward the bathroom.

Halfway there, he caught the back of his shirt and pulled it over his head. His hair emerged more dishevelled than before. He tossed the shirt into the hamper without slowing, leaving Jua with a completely unobstructed view of his back.

Jua blinked.

He had noticed the broad shoulders. It was rather difficult not to when Mao Mao kept carrying him around as though he weighed nothing. Seeing him without the shirt was a different matter.

The morning light fell across his skin, catching the movement of the muscles along his back as he reached for the bathroom door. His waist narrowed beneath them, and even the simple turn of his body made it obvious how much work had gone into maintaining it.

He really does exercise a lot.

Jua looked down at his own arms.

One lay across the blanket, thin enough that the bones at his wrist were plainly visible. He lifted it, experimentally tightening his muscles.

The result was not impressive.

He frowned.

In his original body, he had been strong. He remembered the weight of a weapon in his hand and the ease of moving without stopping to consider whether his knees would hold. Even before the accident, this body had never come close to that, but twenty years in bed had made the difference rather insulting.

He glanced toward the bathroom again.

Mao Mao had paused in the doorway.

Their eyes met.

Jua immediately lowered his arm.

"What?"

The man’s mouth curved.

"Nothing."

That smile suggested otherwise.

Jua narrowed his eyes. "I was thinking."

Mao Mao leaned a shoulder against the doorframe, apparently willing to wait for the rest.

"About exercise," Jua added, before he could make anything of it. "Once I can walk properly, you can teach me."

The amusement eased from Mao Mao’s expression.

For a moment, he simply looked at him.

Jua glanced down at his arm again, irritated enough to continue.

"I’m tired of getting exhausted over nothing. Yesterday I moved the wheelchair a short distance and felt as though I’d dragged it up a mountain."

"You’ve only just woken up."

"I know. I didn’t say we should start lifting weights before breakfast."

That earned a quiet laugh.

Mao Mao came back toward the bed. Jua had to stop himself looking at his chest when he approached, which was annoying. There was an entire person attached to it. He could manage to look at his face.

The man sat on the edge of the mattress.

"We’ll start with what the therapist gives you," he said. "When you’re ready for more, I’ll help."

Jua studied him, suspicious of how reasonable he sounded.

"You mean that?"

"Yes."

"No deciding I’m too tired every time I want to try something."

Mao Mao hesitated.

Jua caught it immediately.

"There. That."

"I haven’t said anything."

"You were about to."

The man looked down, smiling despite himself, then reached for the water beside the bed.

"I’ll try not to."

It was a more believable promise than immediate agreement would have been. Jua accepted the glass and took a few careful sips while Mao Mao kept a hand nearby without insisting on holding it for him.

He noticed that too.

When he finished, he placed the glass back on the table himself.

Mao Mao watched the movement with a quiet satisfaction that made Jua feel strangely pleased, though he refused to examine why.

"You can go wash," he said. "I’m not going anywhere."

The words came out casually, but the man’s eyes lifted at once.

Jua held his gaze for a moment.

Then he nudged his arm.

"And put something on afterward. It’s distracting."

Silence followed.

Jua realised what he had said.

Mao Mao’s smile returned slowly, becoming so pleased that Jua regretted opening his mouth.

"For the exercise," Jua clarified. "You’re making me impatient."

"Of course, Jua Ge."

He stood before Jua could find anything suitably discouraging to say.

This time, when he walked into the bathroom, Jua kept his eyes firmly on the window.

He lasted until the door began closing.

Then he glanced over once, caught another glimpse of those shoulders, and looked down at his own arm with renewed determination.

Water began running behind the bathroom door.

Jua was still examining his arm when a low sound reached him, barely audible beneath the shower. He lifted his head.

For a moment, there was only water. Then he heard a muffled groan.

"Mao Mao? Is everything okay?"

Something shifted inside. The reply took a few seconds.

"Everything’s fine, Jua Ge."

His voice sounded unusually hoarse.

Jua blinked at the door, then frowned. He had noticed the smell of smoke yesterday, and the man hardly seemed to sleep properly. Perhaps he had caught a cold.

"Don’t make the water too cold," he called.

A pause followed.

"I won’t."

Jua reached for the phone beside the bed. After a brief search through the contacts Mao Mao had saved for him, he found the housekeeper’s number and asked her to prepare something warm with breakfast.

When Mao Mao finally emerged, his hair damp and a towel around his neck, Jua looked him over.

"I’ve asked for ginger tea. You sound unwell."

The man stopped rubbing his hair.

"Ginger tea?"

"For your throat."

Mao Mao stared at him before lowering his face into the towel. "oh god, you’re so cute.."