LIAH 3. I’m Straight

The first thing Pei Siyin did after getting home was take a shower. He set aside his wig and white dress in the bathroom. Steam filled the cramped space, so he cracked open the door to let in some cool air from outside and ease the stuffiness.

Water dripped from the tips of his hair. He grabbed a towel from around his neck and casually ran it over his head. His upper body was bare, and a towel was wrapped around his waist. Reaching out, he wiped the fog from the mirror, revealing his naturally delicate features.

Maybe it was because the dress he wore today had long sleeves, hiding the faint lines of muscle on his arms, that Song Shengyang hadn’t noticed this clearly masculine trait.

Thinking of that man, Pei Siyin let out a soft laugh against the towel. The image of Song Shengyang joking around came to mind. He figured even if he had exposed himself, that guy would probably still shower him with clueless praise.

Still, he had been a little impulsive. He hadn’t even had the chance to explain the truth before making such a move.

But even if it hadn’t happened tonight, Pei Siyin felt it would have happened tomorrow. It was only a matter of time.

Song Shengyang had never felt time move so slowly. After getting home, he slept for just two hours, then got up at five to carefully put himself together. It was the same flashy ensemble as always.

His chest was wide open, shirt buttons valiantly clinging to their threads. He clipped in his diamond studs and tongue ring, and before leaving, he fussed with his hair in the mirror one last time. Only once he was sure he looked cool and handsome did he step out the door.

He parked outside Pei Siyin’s apartment complex. Under a sky still gray and sunless, he wore dark sunglasses.

“Uncle, I’m here to see someone.” Song Shengyang leaned both arms on the window of the security booth and greeted the old guard with a grin.

The security guard gave him a glance. Aside from a pretty face, everything from the hair to the earrings, from the tongue stud to the exposed chest, screamed trouble.

Still, doing his job properly, the old man flipped through a logbook, pushed up his reading glasses, and pointed to a line in the middle. “Pei Siyin, Building 13, Unit 2, Apartment 601. He mentioned it last night.”

“Got it.”

Song Shengyang glanced left and right as he stood in front of the two doors on the first floor. He lifted his hand and knocked confidently on 601.

He propped one hand against the wall, making a fist and resting it against his forehead in what he thought was a cool, brooding pose. His sunglasses had slid down to the bridge of his nose, so his gaze landed low the moment the door opened. The first thing he saw was a pair of banana-shaped slippers.

“Hey, Yinyin.”

Song Shengyang couldn’t hide the grin on his face. He took off his sunglasses and let them dangle from one finger. He lifted his head for a smoldering look, eyes locked and ready to strike, until the next second, when all the blood drained from his face.

“Holy shit!”

Standing at the door was a man. Song Shengyang’s eyes glazed over, goosebumps rippling across his skin. He stumbled a step backward, checking the door number again and again. “Wrong place, wrong place, sorry, bro. My bad. I knocked on the wrong door.”

Pei Siyin stood in the doorway in a set of home clothes. His hair was a mess, like he had just crawled out of bed. He lowered the hand on the doorknob and opened the door wider, saying to him,

“You didn’t. You’re looking for Pei Siyin, aren’t you?”

“Huh?” Song Shengyang stared at Pei Siyin’s face, searching for something. It really was a beautiful face, and it looked a bit like… just a little like… “Oh! I got it!”

His gloom lifted in an instant. He clapped his hands, full of confidence, while Pei Siyin looked at him expectantly, waiting for the next sentence.

“You’re Yinyin’s older brother, right? Hahaha, nice to meet you, I’m Song Shengyang.”

Pei Siyin’s expression cracked.

“Come in.”

His apartment was cozy, a simple two-bedroom with just enough space for one person. In the living room, two lion-shaped plush pillows sat on a beige fabric couch. Song Shengyang picked one up and hugged it. “Yinyin’s not up yet?”

“I am,” Pei Siyin said. “I’m standing right here.”

“…?”

Song Shengyang shot up from the couch and looked around. The small space was quickly scanned top to bottom. “Where?”

God, he’s so dumb.

Pei Siyin sighed inwardly. Then he stepped up to Song Shengyang, cupped his face with both hands, and leaned in until their noses nearly touched.

“Right here.”

The movement was so fast, Song Shengyang didn’t have time to react. He blinked at the pair of wide, glistening eyes in front of him. Long black lashes brushed the air with every blink, and the faint scent of lavender curled around him. The warmth of Pei Siyin’s palms pressed gently against his cheeks, and in that moment, everything rushed into his head at once.

“You… you!” Song Shengyang nearly fainted. He sucked in a sharp breath, his hand trembling as he raised it. His head buzzed with panic as he opened his mouth.

“You’re a guy? You’re a guy?!”

Pei Siyin’s heart pounded in his chest. He let go of Song Shengyang and stood stiffly in place. “Yes.”

It was like hearing the horn of judgment day. Song Shengyang nearly rolled his eyes back and collapsed then and there, in the very place he feared most, a gay man’s home.

“Don’t touch me!” he shouted, batting away Pei Siyin’s hand as he tried to steady him. “I’m fine. I can walk.”

“Don’t touch me. Just don’t.”

The two of them faced each other. Song Shengyang reached out with one hand to maintain distance, then shuffled around the living room in a stiff half-circle like an old man practicing tai chi in a public square.

He was seriously shaken. As soon as he got close to the door, he made a wild dash and grabbed the handle. The click of the lock echoed loudly, but no matter how he twisted it, up or down, it wouldn’t budge.

“Stop trying. I locked it with a key.”

Pei Siyin’s voice was completely merciless, so much so that a pathetic whimper escaped Song Shengyang’s throat. He pressed himself flat against the door, then quietly began buttoning his shirt all the way to the top.

The color returned to his face, not from recovery, but from fear. Two fat tears clung to the corners of his eyes. Clutching the collar of his shirt, he trembled as he said,

“Bro, I’m straight. I don’t like men.”

Pei Siyin started walking toward him. No matter how good-looking that face was, it didn’t change the fact that he had a dick just like Song Shengyang did.

He reached out and pinched both of Song Shengyang’s cheeks, pulling his face close and tilting it straight when he tried to look away.

“Let’s talk. If you won’t talk, I’m going to kiss you.”