He Lives In You (Complete)

38th Chapter: LETTING GO

Say it, Jian. Say it quickly, then turn around and walk away. Don't make this harder than it already is. It's over between you and Jin. Just say it.

Jian's conscience spoke to him like a quiet whisper in the back of his mind—part warning, part plea. One side of him screamed to pull away and leave. The other begged to stay.

When Liwei told him Jin was sick, his instinct was to run to him immediately. But it wasn't that simple. It never was. He knew—deep down—that the man still lived in a part of his heart. But pride, fear, and everything he'd told Jin before held him back. He had to be firm. If he wasn't, someone would get hurt again.

How he missed this—Jin's arms around him, the warmth of his body, the familiarity of being held. If he had no ties, no other obligations, he would stay the night. No hesitation. He would stay and make love to him like he had wanted to ever since that kiss in the apartment. But he was consumed—by hate, by jealousy, by all the wrong things—and it clouded everything.

Jackson had been honest with him. Back at the door, he said nothing was going on between him and Jin. He didn't want to believe him. But as they talked, he saw it—Jackson's sincerity, his concern, his heartbreak for Jin. He told him everything: the drinking, the sleepless nights, the depression, the therapy, the medication. Nothing helped. And the cuts—Jackson knew about them. He wanted to see for himself.

"If we—or if he—hurt you, I'm sorry. Let me start there."

"I'm not saying this to blame you, but I think you deserve to know."

That conversation changed everything. The resentment Jian had been clinging to vanished, just like that. But again—his pride, his confusion, and Elliot—all of it tangled around him. He had to stay guarded.

He brushed his fingers through Jin's damp hair, tracing down to the nape of his neck. He took in his scent—familiar, intoxicating—and whispered the words he thought were necessary. The words he believed would end everything, clean and final.

"But I don't love you anymore. I'm sorry."

Good. Now walk away. Let him move on. Just like you did.

Jian pulled back and, without looking back, walked out the door as fast as his legs could carry him. He had to get away before his resolve crumbled.

Jin didn't follow. He didn't cry out or reach for him—and that hurt more than he expected. Jian hoped, maybe foolishly, that the other would beg, call his name, stop him. But he didn't.

Or so he thought.

The living room felt cold and lifeless, mirroring the emptiness inside him. He grabbed his bag from the couch, ready to leave, but his body refused to move. His feet were leaden. His lungs felt tight. He couldn't breathe properly.

Should I go? What if he gets sick again? Wei will be furious.

Should I stay the night? What do I tell Ell?

What if I go back and tell him I didn't mean it? Will he believe me?

His mind spiraled.

And then, he was pulled—snatched from behind. A gasp escaped him and his bag dropped to the floor. Jin's arms wrapped tightly around him, holding him in place. It was unexpected, but everything he secretly hoped for.

Jian's back pressed into Jin's chest, and he felt the heat radiating through his thin shirt. Their hearts pounded together, synced like a rhythm only they could understand. Jin's breath skimmed his neck like warm wind. His hands trembled, clutching the older with a desperation that felt primal.