Fang Chen diligently wiped the table, but after ten minutes, he was still wiping the same one—almost polishing it to a shine.
Jamin’s words kept echoing in his head, full stereo surround.

Seth isn’t into him!!!
No, that couldn’t be right.

Little lamb thought hard.
Seth seemed to love hugging him, even took his hand.
But Seth never actually said he liked him.

Fang Chen furiously flung the cloth down.
Damn it!!!
Was Seth baiting the little lamb?

After Fang Chen finally agreed to come study at Seth’s apartment, Seth was more eager than ever—barely managed to wait until evening before calling to ask if Fang Chen was free tomorrow.

Seth’s voice was gentle, “I’ll come get you, I bought lots of groceries—do you like sweets? I’ll bake a cake for you.”

By comparison, Fang Chen’s tone was cold, “I’m busy for the next couple days, maybe another time.”

After hanging up, Seth was stunned.
From his voice, was Fang Chen in a bad mood?
Had he done something to upset him?

For the first time ever, Seth seriously examined himself—he’d never cared about what others thought before.

Was it Halloween?
Should he not have worn matching costumes? Gone too far somewhere?
He retraced the events, wondering if he shouldn’t have held Fang Chen’s hand.

Frustration welled up—every time they met, he had to use all his self-control, but it was barely effective.
He always ended up wanting to get closer, and just touching Fang Chen’s hand would bring memories of those soft palms, making him want to lick and nibble. Seeing those soft, red lips made him want to kiss them hard.

All it took was a glance from Fang Chen and the prideful self-restraint would shatter instantly.
Every casual look they shared hid a raging undercurrent of desire.

But he was afraid to upset Fang Chen, afraid he’d scare him off—so he kept suppressing, was patient and careful.

But apparently, he’d gone too far and made his little lamb unhappy.

Seth smoked two cigarettes, then picked up his phone, logged in to Twitter, and hesitated before sending Fang Chen a photo.

It was one he’d taken before, originally just for Fang Chen, but jealousy had kept him from sending it.
In the photo, he wore a white shirt, sleeves rolled up, top buttons undone—showing off just enough, maybe more than enough.
Guaranteed to impress his little lamb.

Seth, feeling both moody and jealous, sent the picture.
And waited half an hour with no response.

Unable to sit still, Seth typed:
Saoirse: [Hello, are you busy?]

Fang Chen glanced at his phone, unimpressed.
See—
These foreign guys were so bold, sending suggestive pictures like it was nothing. Obviously wanted to get in bed with him.

But Seth?
Not a word.

Suddenly, Fang Chen sat up, realization striking.
Maybe he’d been overthinking.

Maybe Seth really wasn’t interested, just wanted to be friends!

The first time Fang Chen sensed anything off was when Seth invited him backstage at the boxing match, wrapped him in his coat, took him to dinner, then to the ranch. After that, Seth made Chinese food at home, offered to hang out on Halloween.

Fang Chen was slow, but not truly stupid; deep down, he suspected Seth sort of liked him.

But if it was just friendship—
Fang Chen spaced out.

Do guys just hug each other all the time? Especially that sort of koala hug, with Seth always holding him up by the butt.
Or the handholding, fingers interlaced, palm to palm.
Is that really just what “brothers” do?

Little lamb pondered.
Little lamb didn’t get it.

Until another text came in from the other side.
Fang Chen figured, forget it—might as well ask straight out.

[Hey! Hi! Can I ask you something?]
Saoirse replied quickly.
[Of course, go ahead!]
[Do you have close guy friends?]

Close friends?
Seth wondered why Fang Chen would ask that.
He answered carefully, [I have some friends I eat out with.]

[Do you hold hands with them? Hug them?]

Seth’s eyes narrowed.
He suddenly realized Fang Chen had caught on.
Hugging, handholding—exactly what he’d done with Fang Chen.
So was Fang Chen mad because he’d noticed Seth’s real feelings?

Seth gripped his phone, knuckles whitening.
So Fang Chen didn’t like him.
That fact sent violent discomfort surging up from his chest. He closed his eyes, eyes stormy, lips pressed tight.

But even if he doesn’t like him—the important thing is his little lamb’s happiness. But that little lamb had to be his.

Still, maybe he shouldn’t rush—just as Fang Chen said, his people are more reserved, not quick to put love into words.
So he’d keep his feelings suppressed.

He let out a long breath and replied:
[Yes, we do that all the time.]

When Fang Chen finally got the message, all the brightness left his eyes.
Of course!
Seth only saw him as a buddy.

Turns out Fang Chen had been kidding himself!
He clenched his fists, inner sheep throwing punches and kicks in frustration.
So annoying!
How could Seth hug and touch him so much without meaning it!!

Foreigners—what’s with the hugging and touching license?
Just because you hug, touch, and hold hands doesn’t mean you’re “just brothers”.
Fang Chen hadn’t agreed to anything!

Sitting up abruptly, he grabbed his phone and messaged Seth:
“I have some time tomorrow, are you free? I want to come study at your apartment.”

Seth stared at that screen for minutes before replying.
[Okay, I’ll pick you up.]

He tossed the phone aside and leaned back, frustrated.
Just as he thought.
Confirmed Fang Chen wasn’t interested, so now he could come back again.

Annoying little lamb.
Better not end up in his mouth…

Next morning, Fang Chen got up early.
First, he fussed with his messy hair.

His hair was thick and fluffy; left alone, he looked like a tousled puppy.
He checked online for tips, blow-dried and brushed until everything was smooth. Then he ransacked his closet for an outfit.

Finally found a uniform-like ensemble: a white shirt and black shorts, though the shorts were pretty short. After thinking for ages, he finally put it on.

If you don’t risk the lamb, you won’t catch the wolf.

As soon as he finished dressing, he realized he was running late and rushed out with his backpack.

Actually, Seth had arrived early.
He was very patient when it came to Fang Chen.

Fang Chen suspected Seth’s motives, so he told himself to be more reserved today.
He tried to keep up the disguise.

But all his plans collapsed at the moment he saw Fang Chen come out of the dorm.

Backpack, crisp uniform, white shirt tucked into black shorts—a tiny, cinched waist, so slim you just want to grab it tight. Below, long white legs—bare, smooth, and so enticing Seth could almost taste them.

His chest heaved for a moment and his throat bobbed.

After just a few seconds, Fang Chen was right in front of him.

Hair neat today, soft and dark, eyes smiling and sparkling, “Seth, have you been waiting long?”

Seth couldn’t stop staring, lost, not even hearing Fang Chen’s question.

Fang Chen blinked, stood on tiptoe to get closer, “What’s wrong?”

That beautiful face so close, eyes shining like black gems, even his breath had a subtle sweet scent.

Seth asked instead, “Are you wearing perfume?”

Huh?
Fang Chen blinked, shrank back to sniff himself, “No?”
He looked up, startled by Seth’s intense gaze—heavy with emotion.

Fang Chen whispered, “Are you allergic or something? I really didn’t use any, just showered—maybe it’s the shower gel.”

A freshly scented little lamb.

Seth didn’t say anything else, finally looking away, and opened the car door for him. “Give me your backpack.”

Inside, in the closed car, that scent became even stronger—like a hook tugging at Seth’s nose.

Seth was already sweating; he felt like he was about to explode.

Before Fang Chen, he’d rarely ever felt desire—thought it was a waste, would rather box it out.
But now, years of suppressed feelings were threatening to snap.

Every breath Fang Chen took, for Seth, was like fuel on the flames.

Any more, and he’d lose control right here in the car.

Seth rolled the window down for cold air.

Fang Chen felt lost.
Was the scent that strong? He didn’t smell a thing.

He glanced at Seth—his face cold as ice, jaw clenched so tightly his jawline was practically a blade.

Too much!

Fang Chen grumbled.
If he was so irritated, then why ask him to come at all?!

__

Author’s note:
Mini Theater

Fang Chen, forced to exercise more and more, thought his waist was about to break.
He dragged himself back to the dorm, locked every door and window, snuggled under the covers.
[“If I sleep here, I won’t be disturbed.jpg”]

But after only half an hour, there was a knock at the door.
It must be his roommate, so Fang Chen got up, rubbing his eyes—only to find Seth at the door!

What kind of horror story was this!
Seth pushed in, saying coolly, “Your roommate moved to a single. I’m taking their place.”

Fang Chen stared a moment, then turned to run—only for Seth to scoop him up over his shoulder.

“New setting—is it more exciting, baby?”