Will you Fight or Stay?
———
Shen Qingqiu's heart thudded so loudly in his chest that it almost drowned out the sound of his breathing.
His mind was a whirlwind, a storm of conflicting emotions and thoughts, none of them making any sense.
He wanted to push Luo Binghe away—he knew he should—but every fiber of his being was screaming at him to pull him closer, to not let him go, even if it meant losing himself in the process.
Luo Binghe stood in front of him, chest rising and falling with each labored breath, his hands clenched into fists at his sides, his expression dark with something too raw to ignore.
The silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating, heavy with the weight of everything that had been left unsaid.
"Why won't you just admit it?"
Luo Binghe's voice was low, but it cut through the silence like a knife.
"Why do you keep running from me? From us?"
Shen Qingqiu opened his mouth to respond, but the words wouldn't come.
How could he explain?
How could he make Luo Binghe understand that this wasn't just about the past, or the mistakes they'd made?
It was about the unbearable weight of wanting someone you could never have.
It was about the ache in his chest every time he saw Binghe's face, every time he heard that voice, knowing that everything between them was wrong.
"I don't know what you want me to say, Binghe,"
Shen Qingqiu finally spat, his voice trembling despite his best efforts to sound firm.
"You think this is easy for me? Do you think I haven't been trying to forget about you? To move on?"
Luo Binghe's eyes flared with something dangerous, something desperate.
"You think I haven't been trying to forget about you too?"
His voice was louder now, trembling with barely-contained emotion.
"Do you think I wanted to feel like this? Do you think I wanted to be torn between loving you and hating you? You think I can just walk away?"
Shen Qingqiu took a step back, his chest tight, his heart pounding like a drum.
He felt suffocated by Luo Binghe's presence, like the space between them was too small, too tight.
"You should," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "It's better if you do. You need to hate me. I'm nothing but a burden to you."
"No," Luo Binghe hissed,
his voice low and furious.
"You're not a burden.
You're everything I've ever wanted, and you're making it impossible for me to let go."
The rawness in his voice, the ache, it shattered something inside Shen Qingqiu.
He didn't want to feel it. He didn't want to want this, but his heart was betraying him. It was beating so fast, it felt like it might explode.
Every inch of him screamed for Luo Binghe, for his touch, for his presence, but he couldn't give in.
Not like this.
Not when everything between them was wrong.
Luo Binghe took a step forward, closing the space between them, his eyes blazing with unspoken emotion.
"Why do you keep running from me,
Shen Qingqiu?
Why do you keep pushing me away when I'm standing right here?
When I'm telling you, right here, right now, that I'm not going anywhere?"
Shen Qingqiu's hands shook at his sides.
"You don't understand. You don't understand what I'm trying to protect you from." His voice cracked, and he hated it.
He hated the way his walls were crumbling, the way he was being pulled apart by everything Luo Binghe was making him feel.
Luo Binghe's face softened for just a moment, his voice low and pleading.
"Then tell me what it is. Tell me what you're so afraid of, because right now, all I see is you hiding from something that's real. You're hiding from me."
Shen Qingqiu's breath caught in his throat.
He could feel the heat of Luo Binghe's body,
the closeness of him, the way his presence overwhelmed every part of him.
His resolve was crumbling, slipping through his fingers like sand.
He tried to take a step back, to create some distance, but Luo Binghe was faster, his hand shooting out to grab his wrist, pulling him back toward him.
"Stop running from me," Luo Binghe growled, his grip tight, his eyes burning with something fierce. "Stop pretending you don't want this. Don't pretend you don't need me."
The words hit Shen Qingqiu like a punch to the gut. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't think. All he could do was feel—feel Luo Binghe's hand on his wrist, feel his chest against his own, feel the heat of his breath on his skin.
"I don't need you,"
Shen Qingqiu hissed, though the words didn't sound convincing even to him.
He could feel his body betraying him, his pulse racing, his chest tight with something that wasn't anger—it was need. It was desire. It was too much.
Luo Binghe's gaze darkened, his thumb brushing over Shen Qingqiu's pulse point, a touch that felt like fire.
"Liar,"
he breathed, his lips hovering just inches from Shen Qingqiu's.
"You need me. You've always needed me."
And then, without warning, Luo Binghe's lips crashed against his, cutting off any protest Shen Qingqiu might have made.
The kiss was hungry, frantic, filled with months of unspoken longing, of desires they'd both tried to bury.
Shen Qingqiu's mind went blank, everything he'd told himself, every reason he'd given to keep his distance, gone in the face of that kiss.
He could taste the salt of Luo Binghe's tears, the desperation that clung to every movement.
It was too much, too fast, too raw, and yet it was the most alive Shen Qingqiu had felt in weeks.
His heart was a thunderous beat in his chest, and his hands—his hands—found their way to Luo Binghe's shoulders, gripping him, pulling him closer.
Luo Binghe responded with equal force, his hands grabbing the back of Shen Qingqiu's head, deepening the kiss, pushing him back against the wall, pressing their bodies together like they couldn't get close enough.
Shen Qingqiu gasped as Luo Binghe's body aligned with his, every inch of him demanding more, wanting more.
The atmosphere feels intense.
Shen Qingqiu had always prided himself on his control, but now, with Luo Binghe's hands slipping under his robes, his lips trailing down his neck, he couldn't fight it anymore.
He couldn't deny the pull, the need, the burning desire that surged through him like fire.
He groaned as Luo Binghe's lips found his pulse, sucking lightly, making him shiver.
The sound of his name—Qingqiu—on Luo Binghe's lips was enough to make him lose all semblance of control.
"No more running, Shen Qingqiu,"
Luo Binghe whispered against his skin, his voice rough with desire. "No more pretending. You're mine now."
And for the first time,
Shen Qingqiu didn't want to fight it.
His mind, his heart, his body—
everything about him wanted to surrender.
And so, he did. He let go.
Let Luo Binghe have him.
Let him devour him.
Because maybe, just maybe, this was what he had been waiting for all along.