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The books look like the keys of a xylophone. Xingqiu has always imagined the mismatched spines on the library shelves as having a magical quality, full of hidden words like music, just waiting to be opened and discovered. It's a stupidly romanticized idea that he has never shared with anyone, childish in a literal sense, as it has occupied his mind since he was a child, too young to read, when all the musical instruments he was given were rainbow-colored and he would bring books into his grandfather's study, sit on his lap, and gaze at the many thick tomes lining the walls as he waited to be read to.
As Xingqiu thinks of this, there is a hand on his leg. It's pressed to the back of his thigh, low enough that the man behind him has to lean down to do it, chin pressing softly into Xingqiu's shoulder.
Everywhere around him are books. Rows and rows of them, their colors blending together now with the orange of the setting sun. It filters through the window, casting long shadows and giving the dust motes around the two of them the perfect stage. Hundreds of them dance together elegantly, the way they always do in the library at this time. Qingqiu likes coming to the library after school, because he likes the way the light from the windows makes the dust motes dance. The city library has less windows. The library at home has none. After school, the ambiance is perfect to spend an afternoon reading.
The hand on his thigh moves up. It can't be an accident, because he can feel the way the man's fingers curl around the curve of his leg, a breathy laugh close to his ear.
"Have your parents been feeding you proper?" he asks, quiet. His hand squeezes the meat of Xingqiu's thigh. "You're skin and bones."
The voice is deep, low. As he speaks, his head raises, the stubble on his chin sticking to Xingqiu's hair and prickling the shell of his ear. Xingqiu thinks he recognizes the voice. He remembers the hands, too. The gym teacher always liked to correct their posture. For the girls, he would show them, using his body as an example. Lift your shoulders. Hold the racket higher. Angle your hips like this. For the boys, it was faster to grab and reposition himself.
But this is the library. He's not in the locker room, or in the gym, or on the track, and there's no reason why the stale smell of long-dried sweat should be greeting him amongst the smell of books, no reason why a hard pair of hands should be groping him through his uniform.
"Come with me and I'll treat you to something real nice."
Xingqiu shakes his head. He opens his mouth, but he doesn't know how to say no. If he's making too much of this--he must be making too much of his--then he doesn't want to be the one to make it inappropriate. But it is. He's sure it is. Otherwise the man wouldn't be whispering.
"...I appreciate the offer, but I'm afraid I'm not..."
He shrugs his shoulders to try and get the man away from him, holds them up defensively, and musters up an apologetic smile as he turns around.
His gym teacher is not particularly big. He's strong, but wiry, the body of a runner, lightweight and long-limbed, tall enough that Xingqiu has to crane his neck to see the speckled shadow of a beard, the lines carved in his face from all his long hours under the sun. His hair is just starting to thin, and his scalp shines beneath the coarse black-and-grey mess of his hair. The girls sometimes make fun of him behind his back.
Xingqiu remembers feeling bad for him.
"What's got you looking so scared?" he asks, light enough that Xingqiu might actually think it's all in his head after all, if it weren't for the hand that's still on his thigh, working its way up.
As it smooths over his ass, he jumps and finally pushes it away. "I-I'm not..." He looks down at the hand that had touched him as if to confirm it's really there, wide-eyed. "I'm just trying to study, and this is the library, so..."
So go away. So don't touch me. So don't you dare do anything a teacher shouldn't do, because people will see.
In these sorts of situations, it's never the minor who gets in trouble.
Xingqiu glances out the open window. They're on the second story, but just below them the soccer team is practicing. There are people cheering as they watch, others shouting, the sound of boys running and a ball being kicked.
"You sure you're not scared?" The man's hand finds him again, his jaw this time, capturing his entire face in one big hand. His skin feels rough against the sides of Xingqiu's cheeks, shocking. He's had people touch his legs before, but never his face. Not his bare skin. "You look like you're about to cry."
He pushes the man's hand away again. His heart is racing now, flying so fast it skips a beat as he tries to back up and his back hits the bookshelf. "Please, don't touch me."
His teacher snorts. "We're both guys," he says, although his words don't match his tone, heavy now, still just as quiet as he follows Xingqiu back. His hand reaches around and grabs at Xingqiu's ass again, pulling him closer by the hips. Xingqiu yelps, gasps, quickly covers his mouth, and his teacher chuckles quietly. "Nothing to be embarrassed about..."
"D--" Xingqiu's voice is too loud, a yelp that he cuts off short, teeth gritting as he pushes against his teacher's chest. Quieter, he spits out, "I said don't touch me...!"
"Quiet down. You want someone to hear us?"
"Yes," he says. Lies. "You're the one who'll be in trouble. Y-you'll lose your job. No one will ever hire you again if th--"
Far from being pushed away, the man only pulls Xingqiu closer, grinding their hips together. There's a familiar stiffness his teacher's shorts, an unfamiliar gruffness in his voice. "Ahh, yeah, you're right. Might never get to work again... at this school, anyway. You'd be surprised how easy you get off for shit like this."
A cold stone drops in Xingqiu's stomach, and it seems to spread all through his body, hollowing the marrow from his bones and replacing it with led. He knew, of course. He hadn't even tried to deny it. But the confirmation that what's happening is wrong, and that his teacher knows its wrong and doesn't care, changes things.
"In fact, I was starting to get tired of this place, anyway. Why don't you do me a favor? Call someone over. We can start some rumors."
The man's hand is a constant pressure. Xingqiu's back presses against the wood of the shelf as his groin presses into his teacher's thigh, and the hard lump of the man's erection presses into his lower stomach, just under his bellybutton. The man towers over him, much too close, his face dangling in the air like he might lower it just a little more and force Xingqiu into a kiss.
"You're so hot," he whispers, moving his knee so that his thigh grinds up and pleasure sparks between Xingqiu's legs at the stimulation. "Such a tease. Never seen a boy with such smooth legs. You know exactly what they do to me, don't you? You know how bad I wanna sink my teeth into you. Wanna cover you in bruises. Make you parade them around class like a whore."
As he speaks, his face gets closer, speaking almost against Xingqiu's lips even as he pushes back against the man's chest, desperate to get away. But his efforts are interrupted by gasps and jolts, whimpers as his hips twitch and try to escape the constant grinding of the man's thigh against him. Slowly but surely, he's hardening in his pants, and the fact that his body's reacting terrifies him almost more than the things the man says.
"Stop...!" he hisses, but the man doesn't even seem to hear him. Their noses press together, and he can smell the man's breath, as stale as the rest of him, smoke and mint, cigarettes and the gum he'd chewed to hide them.
"Bet you'd like that. You like making up stories, right? You can tell them a girl gave 'em to you. Make all the other boys jealous."
Xingqiu's mouth opens in a gasp and suddenly there's a tongue in his mouth. His teacher's beard is prickly against his face, itchy, a stark contrast to the soft, squirming tongue that rushes up against his. Xingqiu panics, going from pushing the man away to beating against his chest, thrashing in his grip until he pulls away and he can plaster himself to the bookshelf behind him completely, panting for breath.
His teacher looks down at him fondly, lips wet and glistening with spit, and he licks them as his eyes trail Xingqiu's body.
"Don't touch me..." Xingqiu's voice shakes. Every part of him shakes. His face is red and his pants are tight, his mouth tastes like mint and his skin itches where the man touched him. He wants to run away, but his legs are locked in place. "M-my... If something happens to me, my family will get involved. Your face will be plastered all over every newspaper in the country."
It's a simple fact that his family has more than enough money and influence to crush anyone they want, socially or otherwise, however they feel like. It should make Xingqiu untouchable. His teacher should know that, too. Even if his peers often don't, his teachers do. His father has made considerable contributions to the school to ensure they would.
The man is unfazed, though. More than that, he looks amused, a smirk resting on his lips as his hand slips down into his pocket.
"Funny. Your brother said the same thing."
All the wind drains from Xingqiu's sails. He feels empty, stone-like again, petrified as the words sink into the coarse husk of his body.
"What?"
"Here, I can show you."
His hand comes from his pocket wrapped around his phone, and he turns Xingqiu back around with the other hand, making him stumble back into place facing the rows of books. Looking at them feels even more surreal now. They're in the library, he reminds himself. This is happening to him in the library.
The man drapes himself over his shoulders, solid weight that makes his knees want to buckle for a second. His hand comes up to bring the cell phone in front of Xingqiu's face, his chin resting on Xingqiu's shoulder again, so they can both see as the screen lights up.
A cheer sounds from outside, close enough to make Xingqiu jump. The soccer team always practices at around this time. Someone must have made a goal. Xingqiu's gaze flickers to the open window, where he can see people running across the field, white uniforms mud-stained and stark against the green grass. The library is on the third floor, probably too high for anyone to see him and understand what's happening. It makes him feel dizzy to think of all the other people here, on the same campus as him, going about their days. Unaware. Nobody knows that this is happening to him.
Chongyun would be down below. Maybe he's the one who scored. Maybe they're all laughing, maybe they're crowding around him, congratulating him, patting him on the back. Xingqiu doesn't like going to those things because he doesn't like the way the girls fawn over him. Chongyun tells him that it doesn't mean anything, and he knows it doesn't, but he still doesn't like seeing it.
He wonders if the girls are fawning over Chongyun right now. If he called out long enough, would he come to help?
His teacher chuckles in his ear, and Xingqiu's gaze moves back to the phone, full of little boxes now, images in neat rows, traumas compressed into squares that the both of them browse through now. It's an Instagram, he realizes. A private Instagram, full of naked bodies that he doesn't recognize, crying faces, thin legs with long ribbons of red and white running down them, bruised thighs, frothing holes. Xingqiu doesn't recognize them until he does, and the world goes fuzzy around the edges as his brother's face stares back at him, covered in tears and snot, lips wrapped around something hairy and flesh-colored.
The picture enlarges as his teacher taps it. The blue becomes easier to distinguish. A gym mat. His brother is in his gym uniform, his name written over his chest, impossible to mistake. One of his eyes is squinted closed as a thumb presses into his cheek as if to brush away his tears. The far wall is blurry, but Xingqiu can see the outline of the vaulting box, the window that's divided by black bars into six equal pieces.
His belt pinches him, and then it loosens. Xingqiu doesn't look down, his eyes trapped by the vision on the screen, his brother violated right before his eyes. "He wasn't as cute as you, but he liked to tease me, too. Once, he told me he could buy my entire life with his pocket change."
Xingqiu's button is next. It comes undone smoothly, followed by the drag of his zipper, and Xingqiu's hands drop down to try and keep his pants up, but it's too late. His cock is out, exposed to the open air, and his teacher's hand is running over it, teasing it back to hardness.
"After that, I knew I had to have him. Wouldn't be satisfied until I saw him choke on my cock."
The man moves on to the next picture, still his brother, the pose similar, except the illusion of tenderness is gone now, the hand that had been stroking his brother's cheek now gripping the back of his head, forcing it onto the cock, and his brother's eyes have rolled back, leaving his sockets ugly white crescents. Drool runs thick down his chin, dripping onto the white of his shirt and matting it against his chest.
"First time I did this, he said the same things as you." The hand around his dick moves faster, and Xingqiu gasps. He feels sick. There's a nasty taste in the back of his throat, but the only thing that leaves him is a quiet moan as the man thumbs the head of his cock. "After I took a few pictures, he stopped bringing it up, though. Now, here's a quiz: why do you think he stopped fighting back?"
The next picture is more of the same: his brother, on his knees, a hand in his hair. His lips have started to go blue, matching the mat under him.
"A. I beat him bloody every time he tried to fight back."
Xingqiu's breath shudders as the image changes again, this time to his brother with his mouth wide open, eyes still rolled back, but his tongue juts out of his mouth, accepting the pearly white cum that spills across it and drips down the bridge of his nose.
"B. He started to like it."
The position changes. His brother is face-down on the mat, his dick hanging between his legs as he sticks his ass in the air. He looks so small like this, with the tip of a man's cock nestled against his pink, glistening pucker. To take a picture like this, they would have needed a third person.
"C. He realized I'd release all the pictures I took if he opened his mouth."
Now the cock has pushed inside, and the camera angle has changed, gotten closer to show the way his brother's ass strains around the intrusion. His hair hangs straight, the same color and consistency as Xingqiu's, just visible along with the curve of his forehead between his legs.
"D. All of the above."
A pair of lips press against Xingqiu's neck, and he shudders as the image on the screen changes yet again, but now it moves, a video of a pair of hips moving together, hands on hips pulling them closer, slapping, and the faint sound of his brother's voice. More, he says between sobs. Please, I'm so close... Just let me...
The sound is just barely audible over the cacophony of Xingqiu's heart, but it's too loud. The window's open. They aren't the only ones in the library.
"Stop," he says. Stop the video. Stop touching me. Stop. "I-I get it, so..."
"You get it?"
The video is still playing. His brother moans, back arching, and the man fucking him gets faster, harder. He's built like a bulldozer and Xingqiu doesn't think it's his gym teacher.
"You're trying to threaten me. If I don't listen to you, th-then all this..."
"So your answer is C?"
"I--"
"Too bad!" The hand speeds up. Xingqiu feels a rush of panic as the sound of his teacher's movements join the video's, just as pornographic. They're wet, he realizes. His cock has gotten wet, his pleasure building quicker now that the strokes are smoother, firmer. "The correct answer was D."
Xingqiu's thighs tremble as his hips beg to chase the sensation of his teacher's hand, moving in subtle twitches.
Turning the volume up, his teacher gives him just what he wants, exactly what he doesn't want. His brother is moaning now, low and almost pained, mixed with grunts and begging that turns to gibberish as he's pounded into. At the same time, the man's hand wrings his dick as if to milk it, and Xingqiu's hand shoots over his mouth to block the sounds that want to leave him.
"I knew you'd turn into a little slut the second I got my hands on you," he mutters, beard scratching up Xingqiu's neck as he nuzzles his way up to his ear. "Just like him."
He cums then, all the colors in the video blending together as his body tenses and his eyes unfocus. He feels his cock twitch in his teacher's hand, hears the whine that escapes from his mouth, and then a click that, in his brief orgasm haze, confuses him.
A second later, he blinks it away, horror overcoming him as he stares down not at his brother, but at himself. His softening dick is held in a hand too big for it, pointed at a bookshelf, which is smeared with his cum, white dripping down the auburn spine of an old book, probably ruining it. He had forgotten they were in the library. He hadn't forgotten, but at the same time he had. It's shocking to see himself like this, cut-and-dried in a picture.
"D-delete it," he whispers, voice thick. He grabs for the phone, but it's held up above his head easily, well out of his reach.
"Hey, now. I'm sure they're going to be looking for the pervert responsible for this mess. Can't exactly get rid of the evidence, can I?"
Xingqiu is vibrating. He didn't know his body could do this, but every part of him is shaking. His body feels like a bomb, something volatile, about to explode into a million tiny pieces.
"Course, I don't wanna ruin the future of a bright young boy like yourself, so... I'll just keep this for safe-keeping. Just in case."
The hand is slick now as it tucks him back into his pants. Xingqiu looks down at his crotch, his open fly, and then back up at the phone, at his teacher. "If you don't delete everything, me and my brother, everyone else, you're going to regret it. Justice will... Justice will always prevail."
Even as he says them, the words feel empty. Childish. Everyone always likes to say that he's mature for his age, but the truth is more like this. At his core, he's still just a child. The things he believes in are all steadfast, unchanging since he was too small to tie his shoes.
The things he believed in.
From outside of the window, there's a cheer. Chongyun must have scored another goal.
His teacher chuckles as he walks away. "Better make the most of it until justice comes for me, then."
He leaves Xingqiu there, alone amongst the books he's ruined, and Xingqiu lets him, unable to think of another word to say.