Why Does First Love Feel This Sweet? - Chapter 16

Chapter: 16 The Stockholm Misunderstanding

Waking up to find himself wrapped in Rong Yu’s arms after a full night, Sheng Yi was utterly stupefied. He tentatively shifted his hand, only to find it tucked inside Rong Yu’s pajamas, resting against the firm, lean muscles of his back.

Sheng Yi took a sharp breath, his heart rate instantly skyrocketing to 180. What the hell is going on? Did Rong Yu make a move on me?

As a surge of physical sensation hit him, Sheng Yi closed his eyes to steady himself. He told himself not to panic; it was just a touch. He was certain now: Rong Yu truly had feelings for him. But could it be… that the “forced encounter” years ago had twisted his emotions?

Sheng Yi remembered a term for this: Stockholm Syndrome. The victim develops a distorted psychological attachment to their aggressor. His eyelashes trembled as he buried his face in Rong Yu’s chest, his mind spinning into a dark, bizarre territory.

After half an hour of wild speculation, he reached a conclusion: because of his youthful, “beastly” actions, his brilliant childhood friend had been pushed into a psychological imbalance. He gripped the back of Rong Yu’s pajamas, struggling to hold back a wave of heat in his eyes. Does Xiao Yu even know he’s sick? I’ve ruined his life…

…

The moment Sheng Yi’s breathing changed, Rong Yu woke up. Feeling the slight tremor in the boy in his arms, Rong Yu’s embrace tightened. He stroked Sheng Yi’s slender, youthful back. “What’s wrong?” he whispered, resting a hand on soft hair.

“Xiao Yu,” Sheng Yi looked up, his eyes rimmed with red. “I’m sorry.”

Rong Yu frowned slightly, brushing the hair from Sheng Yi’s forehead. “Why are you always apologizing?”

Sheng Yi bit his lip and shook his head.

In the warm morning light, Sheng Yi’s amber eyes were glazed with tears, looking at Rong Yu with overwhelming tenderness and concern. Rong Yu’s Adam’s apple bobbed. Driven by an irresistible impulse, he leaned down and kissed Sheng Yi’s forehead.

Sheng Yi didn’t move.

Rong Yu held his breath, his gaze deepening. He tried again, kissing the tip of Sheng Yi’s nose. He watched as Sheng Yi obediently closed his eyes and hugged him even tighter. The air between them turned heavy. A second later, their lips were tangled in a heated, restless kiss.

Sheng Yi was compliant, letting Rong Yu pin his shoulders. The signature cool, crisp scent flooded his senses—there was no gentle lead-in. When their tongues met, Sheng Yi let out an unconscious muffled moan, his heart aching with a newfound softness. He reached up, stroking Rong Yu’s hair as if to soothe him.

The clean, cold aura of the man above him was like a wind blowing through the embers of winter grass. Sensing the change in Sheng Yi, Rong Yu lifted his head. His dark eyes remained clear and calm, seemingly impossible to stain with chaos.

His long fingers hooked the edge of the silk pajama pants. “Do you want to?” he whispered in Sheng Yi’s ear.

At this point, even if Rong Yu wanted to consume him entirely, Sheng Yi wouldn’t resist. He spread his hands on the bed, face flushed, looking up with pity at the man who was finally showing a “pathological” thirst.

I’ll do whatever makes him happy, Sheng Yi thought. I’ll give him whatever he wants. I’ll take responsibility for my Xiao Yu until he’s completely healed from the shadows of the past.

…

Rong Yu sat up, scrutinizing the person who had opened himself up like a sacrificial lamb. Because Sheng Yi had been “asleep” for three years, his body still held a fragile, teenage beauty. His lifted T-shirt revealed a sliver of a tight, pale waist—skin like a sheet of unblemished paper.

Rong Yu looked into those pure eyes, trying to analyze the emotion within. But because they were so close, he felt lost in a thick fog, unable to grasp a single thread of logic.

“Close your eyes.” Since he couldn’t see through them, Rong Yu covered them with his palm. Obediently, Sheng Yi’s long lashes brushed against his hand. Rong Yu leaned down and bit the boy’s reddened earlobe, grinding gently with his teeth.

The navy silk pajama pants slid silently onto the white rug as the morning sun crawled across the floor.

…

After being “drained” first thing in the morning, Sheng Yi walked to the breakfast table supporting his sore lower back. He looked at the man across from him with a complicated expression.

Rong Yu sat there in a pristine white shirt, drinking tea and reading a medical journal. Sheng Yi found it miraculous—no matter what this man did, he always looked refined, untouched by the world. It felt like Sheng Yi was the only one whose head was still spinning from the morning’s “stimulation.”

“Don’t go out today,” Rong Yu said, putting down his tea and meeting his gaze. “Stay home and rest.”

Is my ‘kidney deficiency’ that obvious? Sheng Yi cleared his throat, flushing. “I’m not going out. I’ll stay and keep Grandpa company.”

“Are you still moving out?” Rong Yu’s eyes locked onto him.

“I’m not moving,” Sheng Yi sighed almost inaudibly. Xiao Yu can’t bear to be without me right now. I have to be a decent human being.

Back in the bedroom, Sheng Yi sat on the edge of the bed with misty eyes. He was certain now: Rong Yu loved him, but it was a “sick” love. Rong Yu was so reserved; he probably suppressed his pain for years after that initial incident.

Sheng Yi pulled back his collar to look at a faint bite mark. Rong Yu’s preference for “restraining” and “tormenting” him on the bed only proved he felt a mix of love and hate.

Xiao Yu is a psychiatry major—how did he not realize he’s this ill? Sheng Yi sighed heavily and opened a Q&A app on his phone.

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