Chapter Text
“We’ve been waiting here for over three hours now, Sis.” Wuyang whined like a little kid and rolled his shoulder in a weak attempt to ease his tensed muscles. Every fibre in his body just ached, stung with every movement. For hours Anran, her girlfriend Brigitte and Wuyang had been standing around outside of the concert venue, which was nothing more than a small live music club.
“Trust me, it’ll be worth it!” Anran grinned at her brother, who only sighed in response. Wuyang wasn’t so sure if spending his evening queuing outside a concert hall for a rock band that was still pretty much unknown to the masses was actually ‘worth it’.
For the hundreds, if not thousands, time this evening Wuyang’s eyes wandered down the street. The sun had already set by now and the bright, and sometimes flickering, neon lights of different nightclubs and bars illuminated the street in a fusion of all the different colours of the rainbow. Wuyang couldn’t help his gaze from jumping back and forth between each individual establishment. Now, that the evening had progressed further, almost shifting towards the nighttime, more people were out on the streets, drinking, laughing, sometimes even bellowing the latest pop song.
At least this was kind of entertaining for Wuyang.
Next to him were Anran and Brigitte, standing close to another while Brigitte animatedly told a story about the recent shenanigans Fika had been up to. Anran clung to her lips, nodding along with every sentence, occasionally giggling in between.
Wuyang let out another deep exhale and shifted his weight from one foot to another, when suddenly he froze. Every little movement, every time he adjusted his posture, felt horribly uncomfortable. Oh, how much he wished to be at home right now, laying down on his bed, or even better: taking a hot bubble bath. Yes, Wuyang would prefer that a lot to waiting for hours and hours for attending a concert of a band he hasn’t even heard one song of.
He didn’t belong here, that was for certain the moment Wuyang agreed to tagging along with Anran and Brigitte. It wasn’t even that Anran actually wanted Wuyang to be here! The only reason he came along, was because Hana had to cancel last minute and they couldn’t sell the ticket anymore. So Wuyang, oh glorious knight in shining armour, offered to buy the ticket off Hana. Though, what he didn’t know in that moment was that this ticket came with a higher price; Wuyang’s precious time and patience.
Frustration towards his sister started raising in Wuyang’s chest, but he held back from causing a scene. There was no need to draw even more attention towards him, than he already received. Because it was painfully obvious, that Wuyang was more of a generic pop-music enjoyer, than a metalhead. Most of the people waiting in line wore black which, to be fair, was the only style choice Wuyang had in common with the crowd. All around him were band shirts, leather jackets, and heavy boots. And there was Wuyang; wearing a tight sleeveless black shirt with baggy jeans and white sneakers. He looked far too mainstream for a rock concert.
As another deep sigh escaped Wuyang’s lips, he stretched his neck in discomfort, one hand massaging tight knots between his neck and shoulders. Brigitte seemed to have noticed his bad mood by now. She peeled herself off Anran for a bit and smiled at him reassuringly… maybe a little pitifully. “They’re really good.” Wuyang’s attention shifted from two already slightly drunk men walking down the street, to Brigitte. “Here,” Brigitte reached one hand out towards Wuyang, “I’ve bought you some earplugs.”
“Thanks Brigitte,” Wuyang inspected the small box with a gentle smile. He liked Brigitte. She was a sweet girlfriend for his sister and probably the only person who was able to calm Anran down whenever her temper took over. “I appreciate that, but I’m sure it’ll be fine. It’s not my first concert.” He declined with pettiness. Wuyang at least wanted to seem like loud music doesn’t bother him. He didn’t want to stand out any more than more than he already did.
“But it’s your first rock concert, little brother!” Anran took the box out of her girlfriend’s hand and shoved it against Wuyang’s chest. “You’ll definitely need these.”
Again, Wuyang didn’t believe her.
About half an hour later the doors to the venue finally opened and Wuyang immediately felt a rush of relief jolt through his body. Soon this whole ordeal will be over. Soon he could be back home and relax, maybe even fulfil this deep desire of lounging in his tub surrounded by soap bubbles.
But for now Wuyang was feeling quite the opposite of relaxation as he was being dragged towards the stage by Anran. She kept going on and on about just how ‘lucky’ they are to be able to get so close to the stage. Lucky, huh? It wasn’t luck, Wuyang was sure of that, it was thanks to the multiple hours they had spend queueing in front of closed doors. But Anran just cheered happily, once again declaring how totally worth it had been to wait in advance. Wuyang couldn’t disagree more.
As more people started filling inside the small concert hall, Wuyang inspected the stage closer. At first, his eyes took in the banner hanging at the back of the stage. “Cursed Chains” it read on the fabric. Underneath the letters was their symbol; two C’s, one mirrored to interlock with the other C, imitating a part of a chain.
Then his eyes wandered over to the drum set and guitars, already prepared and plugged in on stage. An ominous haze engulfed the instruments and only then did Wuyang realise that the fog machine kept hissing, spitting out more mist onto the stage. The chemical, slightly burned smell of this artificial fog made him scrunch his nose and wipe his nostrils with his index finger. Wuyang has been to a few concerts, yes, but never so close to the stage to actually breath in the mist, to actually stand right in front of the microphone stand that was placed at the centre of the stage. Tilting his head, looking up that staff, Wuyang realised just how close he was! If he reached his hand out, lean over the barricade just a little, Wuyang could practically touch the foot of the microphone stand. He could practically shake hands with the front singer! Tch. Wuyang shook his head, to get rid of that weird thought. As if he’d care to shake some sweaty guy’s hand. He was still mad at Anran for dragging him here and making him wait for hours!
The more crowded it got, the stuffier the air inside the venue felt, and the more Wuyang’s personal space lessened. Next to Wuyang stood a tall guy, white hair with an undercut, tattooed and pierced. Every few seconds his muscular shoulder pushed into Wuyang’s, making him stumble against Anran more than once. Wuyang was definitely not looking forward to spending the next few hours squashed and pushed around between sweaty people.
After what felt like another hour of waiting, the lights flickered, dimmed, and for a moment everything went dark. A hum of anticipation vibrated through the crowd, and the first wave of cheers erupted. The casual talk from earlier had stopped and people started calling the name of the band and its members. Anran shook Brigitte’s arm in excitement. “It’s starting! Finally!”
Suddenly, there was one spotlight, illuminating a single spot in the middle of the stage, right were the microphone was. Then a loud background music erupted and Wuyang flinched, yet decided against using the earplugs Brigitte had given him. It wasn’t that loud after all. At least that’s what he told himself.
The stage started lighting up with strobe lights, flashing in Wuyang’s eyes as the bright spotlight started moving around the podium, dancing along the music until four light cones settled on the instruments and the microphone stand. Wuyang could feel the air around him vibrating and he wasn’t sure whether it was due to the growing intensity of the cheers or his own anticipation. The by now rather thick fog started swirling and Wuyang registered movement on stage. Everyone’s breath hitched, halted for a moment. Wuyang could practically feel the tension rising in room, an electrifying shiver left a trail of goosebumps on his skin. His own heart rate spiked, hammered against his ribcage in a mixture of nervousness and excitement. Three men emerged from the smoke, silhouettes illuminated by flashing lights as they walked up on the stage and took their places. Two picked up the guitar and bass and one sat down at the drums. But the middle, the main spot, was still left open. A murmur erupted as the crowd wondered where he was: their lead singer.
Fashionably late, a man, the last member of the band, walked up on stage. The singer didn’t even seem to register the crowd as he made his way towards the centre. It was as if the screaming, which had amplified with his appearance, wasn’t even there. With one hand he was still fixing his in-ear piece, the other stuffed a small… something inside the pocket of his dark baggy jeans. Was that… an omamori? Wuyang wondered why this edgy-looking man with multiple piercings in his face and ears, tattoos spread over his arm and dressed in a washed dark shirt with its sleeves and seam at the waist torn, would need a good luck charm to perform on stage? It felt rather comedic and Wuyang couldn’t suppress the smile that formed on his lips.
Once the man finally reached the microphone a loud roaring of an electric guitar, paired with the slamming sounds of the drum shook the whole building and the screaming inside the building got even louder than before. Wuyang flinched, hands immediately flying to his ears to cover the noise as best as he could. Out of the corner of his eyes he could see Anran making fun of him, but for now Wuyang’s biggest concern was to leave this place without becoming deaf.
Frantically, he searched his pockets for the box of earplugs, pulling them out with shaking hands and squeezing them in his ears as fast as he could. The music was still loud, too loud for Wuyang’s liking, but at least he could stand there without having to cover his ears the whole time.
And suddenly there was a voice, slightly raspy and a little rough around the edges, but captivating, hypnotising in a way. It sliced through the air like a blade, silencing the cheers and all Wuyang could hear was his voice. Mizuki’s voice.
The sound was pulling Wuyang in completely, taking over his mind and causing everything around Wuyang to simply disappear. His eyes locked on the silver-haired singer in front of him; the way his eyebrow piercing sparkled under the bright spotlight, the way he held onto the microphone as if it was the only thing to keep him sane, the way the veins at his neck bulged whenever he raised his voice to sing a little louder. Wuyang could finally understand why Anran had wanted to wait for hours for this guy. He was absolutely mesmerising. And as much as Wuyang hated to admit it, she had been right; it was definitely worth it.
Mizuki had his eyes closed as he sang, or rather screamed, the lyrics to their first song. He knew well enough, that if he’d open his eyes, he would be there. The demon. Staring right into his soul with piercing evil eyes, wanting nothing more than for him to fail; to forget his lyrics or miss a beat. If Mizuki would lock eyes with his demon, he’d mess everything up. Like he always does. A shiver ran down his spine and he tried pushing this thought to the very back of his head. He had to get through this without making any mistake! He just had to! Even if it meant for him to keep his eyes closed for the rest of the night.
A sudden shriek startled Mizuki and his eyes snapped open by instinct, searching for the source of this sound. No, no, no! Mizuki felt panic rising in his chest. His eyes should stay closed! He shouldn't be looking for him! Yet his eyes kept jumping back and forth from left to right, frantically taking in every face he saw, searching for the demon.
The words were just stumbling out of his mouth now as his eyes scanned the crowd. But not one person looked like they’d been possessed by his demon. No one looked like they were in any form of distress. A nauseating taste spread in his mouth, slowly gliding down his throat and mixing with his last meal inside his stomach. He felt like he had to throw up. Painfully, his heart was hammering against his ribcage and he messed up his text, saying “changed” instead of “saved”. In his mind he cursed himself. (As if that would even matter at this point. He’s already been cursed.)
Now even more agitated than before Mizuki felt cold sweat forming at the back of his neck and his throat closed up, making it hard to breathe. That was it, he had messed up. It's over. Everything they've worked for, was over. And it was all his fault. Just beacuse he was incapable of perfoming on stage at least once without making a mistake.
Just when Mizuki thought he’ll faint on the spot, his eyes landed on a young man standing right in front of the stage, looking up to him in absolute awe. The man’s eyes glistened in the flashing lights, his skin was glowing every time a spotlight danced over his silhouette. He looked beautiful. Ethereal. Like hope itself. And Mizuki messed up another line. But this time it wasn’t because of his demon. This time it was because of the man, who clearly didn’t belong here, looking up at Mizuki as if he was an angel.
Mizuki wasn’t an angel, quite the opposite actually, but he still felt a warm rush of adrenaline pumping through his veins, empowering him to sing and scream even louder, to hit every note, every line. For some reason Mizuki couldn't name, the way the man looked up at him actually didn't feel uncomfortable to Mizuki. No, it felt comforting, supporting, and Mizuki felt like he was one with the music again. He felt like a teenager again, making music in the garage of his friend’s house. He felt like back in his school days, when he would sing just for the fun of it, not to make money or to get famous. With no record label at his neck, watching his every move, with no public judging every mistake he did. No, now it was just for him, for his friends and for the stranger with the beautiful brown eyes.
A smile found its way on his lips and for the first time in a long time, Mizuki felt truly happy to sing on stage.
The song ended and a wave of applause, cheers and whistling roared through the venue, bouncing off the walls and hitting Wuyang’s ears. Hard. For a moment Wuyang covered his ear shells with his hands again, contorting his face in pain and scrunching his eyes shut.
Mizuki watched the young man in amusement. He definitely didn’t go to rock concerts often, that was for certain. A chuckle echoed through the room, amplified by the microphone, and Mizuki’s eyes widened for a split second. Fuck! He didn’t mean to make that sound! His gaze immediately turned away from the man, hoping he had not noticed him staring. How embarrassing.
Trying to act nonchalant, Mizuki greeted the crowd. “‘Sup, we’re Cursed Chains.” A wave of cheers and screams of his name erupted again and Mizuki used that moment to bend down and grab a bottle of water that had been prepared for him at the edge of the stage. As he was kneeling, Mizuki checked for the young man with a quick glance, only to realise that the man had been staring at him this whole time. For a moment Mizuki halted all movements and sucked in a sharp breath. Had he noticed him staring during the song? Or was Mizuki maybe even wrong, and this guy was not out of place, but actually a huge fan who looked up at Mizuki? Whatever it was, Mizuki couldn’t deny the fact, that the other man had mesmerising kind brown eyes, that sparked whenever a spotlight hit them in the right angle. They looked honest, untainted in a way that made Mizuki feel like a teenager again. Carefree and joyous.
Quickly he coughed, averted his eyes and stood back up. Mizuki took a sip of his water as his bandmates started hyping up the crowd. Usually it would be the front singers duty to talk to the fans, but Mizuki hated talking to people. So fortunately, his bandmates took over. They had told the fans in order to protect his voice, Mizuki prefers to talk as little as possible during concerts. A lie, yes. But it worked. And it made Mizuki appear even more mysterious and intriguing to his fans than before.
The music started again and Mizuki couldn’t keep his eyes off the man in front of him for more than a few seconds. Somehow this man was unbelievably intriguing to Mizuki and he couldn’t quite put a finger on it as to why. Maybe it was the way his eyes lit up during each song, surprised yet excited every time they reached the chorus, as if it's the greatest masterpiece of a song he's ever listened to. Maybe it was the way he looked at Mizuki as if he wanted to get closer to him. But maybe it was just simply his good looks that made it hard for Mizuki to look away.
The more Mizuki looked at him, the more he noticed things. The more he wondered, how he ended up here? In the first row? Of his concert? He didn’t seem like a big fan, who’d arrive extra early to be at the very front. He actually didn’t seem like a fan at all. Did he even know them? Has he ever listened to any of their songs? Mizuki highly doubted that. The man looked like he had no idea what was going on, yet seemed to enjoy his time to the fullest. So then why was he here? Mizuki couldn’t make any sense of it. But one thing was for certain; Mizuki has never felt this energised during a concert. The other man’s joy was too contagious. Pure and genuine.
Constantly, Mizuki kept glancing down only to meet the other man’s gaze each time. And he couldn’t stop, couldn’t resist. It was as if he was addicted. Every time their eyes locked, Mizuki felt another spark jolt through his body, making his fingertips twitch in the right way. Every time the man smiled at Mizuki another energising wave washed over his whole body, pushing him further and further. Oh, if only every show would feel like this...
The concert went on and Mizuki probably delivered the best show of his life. He even started hyping up the crowd, encouraging them to sing along and dance, or rather head bang, to the music. His bandmates were caught by surprise, exchanging curious glances as to why Mizuki was acting so strange out of nowhere. Was he drunk? High? They wondered.
During one song, Mizuki felt another rush of adrenaline inside his body. He felt in such high spirits, that he actually jumped off the stage and to the small space between the fans and the stage. He sang his heart out, while walking along the barricade, shaking people’s hands, allowing them to take pictures together, or just giving them a high five. Only when he was back at the centre, he stopped and looked straight at the young man, this time on eye level. Or well, as close as they could get to eye level. The other one was significantly shorter than Mizuki himself.
Mizuki knew the other didn’t know the lyrics to this song, but he didn’t mind. Seeing this man actually enjoy this song, dance along and smile this brightly was enough for Mizuki’s heart to soar through the roof. He felt lightheaded and genuinely just happy. And his high didn’t seem to end any time soon. Serotonin, dopamine or adrenaline, whatever it was it kept pulsating through his veins. So he couldn’t stop himself when reaching for this man’s cheek, cupping it gently.
Wuyang felt his skin heat up like a flame as soon as the man’s hand made contact with his face, eyes searching the other’s for any sign to pull back, but there was none. Wuyang wasn’t sure if this happened every show, if this was just a way to make his fans swoon. Or if the singer actually wanted to get closer to Wuyang. No matter the reason, Wuyang’s heart was now pounding in his chest, beating so loudly Wuyang wasn’t sure whether it was his banging heart or the drums he heard. As if on autopilot his hand reached for Mizuki’s hand, embracing it as he leaned into the touch. Wuyang saw a smile appear on Mizuki’s lips at this action. And for a moment it was just them. For a moment the screaming crowd was no more, the band was gone and the music only played faintly somewhere in the distance, and Wuyang could swear Mizuki was singing the song solely for Wuyang and Wuyang alone. And he was sure Mizuki was cupping his cheek in a way as if he’d actually really want to lean in and kiss him at any second.
But Mizuki didn’t kiss Wuyang.
The song ended and so did the concert eventually. And both Mizuki and Wuyang couldn’t be more disappointed about that. If they could, they would stay right here and enjoy this atmosphere until dawn. Or even longer. But they couldn’t. Both knew as much. So when Anran asked Wuyang if he wanted to go for a drink at a club down the street, he agreed in a heartbeat. He didn’t want this night to end. Not yet. Something in the back of his mind told him, that this night had only just started.
The club was too loud, too hot and too sweaty. Wuyang only lasted about two songs on the dance floor with Anran and Brigitte until he had to excuse himself to get some fresh air. A shiver ran down his spine as he exited the room to get to the outside area. His skin was still warm from the stuffy inside of the building. And maybe the shots he had downed earlier with his sister and her girlfriend were another reason for that.
Outside were already a bunch of people; smoking, drinking and talking about just anything that came to their minds. Wuyang, on the other hand, was just enjoying the cool night air. On the balcony Wuyang quickly found a spot at the railing and he took another sip of his drink while watching the party street beneath him. It was close to midnight by now and for many people the night had just started. Wuyang watched as a group of men around his age made their way towards a bar down the street, hollering some song together. Wuyang couldn’t quite tell which one.
A group of women seemed to be celebrating a bachelorette party. Wuyang figured as much since they all wore the same silly pink tops and made one woman with a cheap plastic tiara talk to a group of strangers, convincing them to take a body shot with her. The friends cheered her on, swaying slightly themselves. They’ve must had a few shots themselves already. Wuyang chuckled to himself and took another sip of his drink. His eyes wandered to another group of people. Three guys, obviously drunk, lurching along the side of the street. Wuyang had a feeling this wouldn’t end well. And right he was. Shortly after one of the guys fell forward, dropping on all fours and emptying the inside of his stomach on the ground.
“Enjoying the view?” A rough voice made Wuyang snap his head to the side. Next to him had a tall man appeared out of thin air, cigarette in hand and dressed in a wide black hoodie and a cap pulled deep into his face. Wuyang couldn’t even get a glimpse of the other man’s features. But somehow his frame seemed familiar.
“Eh… not really actually.” His eyes moved back to the guy throwing up on the street.
“Guess someone was having too much fun tonight,” the man said, taking another drag of his cigarette and blowing the smoke into the cold night air. “You want one?” He held out the pack of cigarettes to Wuyang.
“No, thank you.” Wuyang declined and gently pushed the package back towards the man. “I don’t smoke.” A pause. “And you shouldn’t either. It’s not good for you.”
The man chuckled.
“Alright,” he extinguished the only half-smoked cigarette in an ashtray. “but in return you’ll tell me a bit about yourself.”
Wuyang’s cheeks immediately flushed and he coughed to hide his abashment. Was this man flirting with him? Was he trying to hook up with him? Hooking up with strangers he met at a party wasn’t really Wuyang’s style. He was more of a hopeless romantic. And there was also something else holding him back today; his thoughts were constantly spiralling back to the front singer of a band he just saw. The way he had performed on stage, the way he seemed to genuinely adore feeling the music flow through his whole body, and the way he had looked at Wuyang, the way he had held his cheek... It was futile, really. A famous person would never be interested in someone like Wuyang. Especially not after seeing him in the crowd of their concert. As a fan. Wuyang knew it was stupid, but he couldn’t stop the way his heart was beating faster every time he thought back to Mizuki’s stunning smile.
“Sorry,” Wuyang crossed his arms on the railing and leaned onto them. His eyes were still observing the street and people below him. “I’m not interested.”
“Hmm, that’s too bad.” The stranger hummed and leaned onto the railing next to Wuyang. Their elbows slightly brushed against another and Wuyang felt a misleading spark jolt through his arm. “Just tell me one thing,” the stranger continued anyway. “you don’t look like you listen to rock music. Why would you end up in the first row of a rock concert?”
Wuyang’s head snapped to the side, eyes wide and searching any kind of expression under the cap of the stranger. But it was too dark and he couldn’t even make out whether the man was smiling or not. The feeling of panic was bubbling up in Wuyang’s chest. Was this man some kind of stalker? How did he know Wuyang had been to a concert just now? And how did he know exactly where Wuyang had been standing?
“How- How do you know?” Wuyang was about to take a step backwards when the man grabbed his arm to keep him in place. Adrenaline, mixed with cautiousness, shot through Wuyang’s veins. He needed to flee, he had to get out of the danger zone. Immediately.
“Hey, wait-” the stranger must be sensing Wuyang’s panic and slightly lifted his cap, finally revealing his face.
“Mizuki!” Wuyang gasped and Mizuki put his index finger on how own lips, indicating Wuyang to stay quiet. In an instant Wuyang pressed his lips in a thin line, trying to suppress any sound coming from his mouth. At the sight of the man in front of him, Wuyang felt his body relax. Which, thinking about it, was weird because Mizuki, the semi-popular rock singer, was still a stranger. But at least that explained how he knew where Wuyang had been standing.
But then it hit Wuyang all at once; Mizuki, the semi-famous singer, was talking to him! He had approached him!! Wuyang sharply sucked in a breath of air.
“Sorry, I guess this wasn’t the best way to start a conversation.” Mizuki pulled the cap deeper in his face again to hide from prying eyes, but not deep enough so Wuyang could still see enough of his features. “But I see you know my name already.” Mizuki tilted his head and crooked a brow with an eyebrow piercing at Wuyang, properly inspecting the other from head to toe. The intensity of Mizuki’s stare made Wuyang raise his chin and straightening his back. Another form of tension had found its way back into his body. This time it wasn’t out of caution. This time it was excitement, and a hint of temptation.
“Of course I know your name. It was screamed tonight about a thousand times. I mean, that’s how I figured it was your name. It’s not that I know much about you, I mean-” Wuyang started rambling and Mizuki’s chuckle interrupted him.
“Well, I guess it’s only fair if you tell me your name as well then,” Mizuki smirked at Wuyang in sheer amusement. “So I know what I have to scream later tonight.”
An instant heat painted Wuyang’s cheeks in bright red. He definitely did not expect Mizuki, the singer he’d just seen earlier on stage, flirt this boldly with him! Was this his thing? Pick up fans after his concert for a one night stand? Wuyang felt a weird feeling form in his lower stomach.
“What do you…mean…?” Wuyang muttered, still shaken by the fact he was hit on by a celebrity.
“I was curious,” Mizuki grinned and leaned onto the railing some more, head angled to get a good look at Wuyang. “how did you end up in the first row of a rock concert of a band you don’t even listen to?”
“My sister…” Wuyang mumbled, eyes jumping back and forth between Mizuki’s teal ones. “She’s a fan and made me come with her and her girlfriend.”
“I see.” Mizuki hummed. “I guess I have to thank her then.”
“Huh- What for?!” Wuyang flinched and Mizuki just chuckled slightly in return.
“Do you want to get out of here?”
Wuyang felt another rush of warmth creeping up his neck. Was the Mizuki, the front singer of Cursed Chains, trying to pick him up? To do… indecent things?
“But I don’t even know you!” Wuyang replied way too quickly, way too flustered.
“So what? You don’t trust me?” Mizuki laughed.
“For all I know, you’re a stranger and could just murder me.” Wuyang exhaled deeply through his nostrils and crossed his arms over his chest.
“I won’t murder you.” There was an amusement in Mizuki’s voice. He seemed to enjoy their exchange, which made Wuyang pout even more.
“That’s what all murderers say.”
“Is that so?” Mizuki adjusted his posture to get a better look at Wuyang's face. “Tell me: How many murderers have you met already?” Mizuki laughed and Wuyang turned his face away from the other, pretending to be not interested at all. But in reality he was too flustered to keep eye contact with the other.
Mizuki’s laughter spilled into the space between them, echoing through the night and embracing Wuyang’s body in a warm and gentle hug. Only then did Wuyang uncross his arms and averted his eyes to the night sky, deeply lost in thought.
“I mean… No one’s ever tried to murder me so far…” he wanted to go with Mizuki, to trust him. To see what this will turn into. Wuyang wanted this to become more. Whatever ‘more’ meant in this context. But still, Wuyang knew he shouldn’t just blindly trust him. After all, this man was a stranger who was trying to lure Wuyang away from the crowd. Quickly, he regained his posture and continued. “But that doesn’t mean today can’t be a first!”
“I promise I won’t touch you.” Mizuki raised his hands in a defensive motion, showing his palms to the other man.
Wuyang couldn’t explain why, but hearing these words from Mizuki made him feel a little… disappointed. It’s not that Wuyang was hoping for something intimate to happen, of course not! But hearing Mizuki being so opposed to the thought of touching Wuyang stung slightly in his chest. Shaking his head, Wuyang pushed the feeling to the back of his head. He furrowed his eyebrows suspiciously, yet curious about what else Mizuki had in mind. “Where will you take me?”
“I want to show you a spot.”