This is not a game

Game Over: Restart

The door to the bathroom flings open, and Eli looks up to see Qi Yi — rumpled, disheveled from sleep, but still indecently handsome in the pale morning light. Qi Yi, who likes him. Qi Yi, who spent the previous night taking care of him and wiping away his literal tears if not snot (God, Eli hopes that not snot, but he doesn't remember the night that clearly). Qi Yi, who's still here.

"Thank you," Eli blurts out. "For everything! For staying. For the soup." He smiles, thinking about the surprising gesture which is much easier to understand today, in hindsight. "For caring. I'm feeling better."

"I'm glad," Qi Yi replies seriously and moves closer to him.

"How are you, though?" Eli asks as Qi Yi sits down next to him, leaving a good half-meter between them. The time for easy cuddles has passed, it seems. It's sad, but it makes sense. "That was an unusual New Year's Eve for you. What did you tell your friends?"

Qi Yi shrugs, and Eli chuckles, looking away.

"It wasn't a dream?" he asks after half a minute of awkward silence. "You really like me?"

"I do," Qi Yi replies quietly.

"What do you like about me?" Eli glances at him, catching a serious, and maybe even a bit frightened, look. He nervously rubs his neck, then smiles, a bit awkward but warm. "If you think I'm fishing for compliments, you're not wrong, but... seriously. I don't get it. I mean, we hadn't even really talked until last night, and it's not like I'm irresistably attractive. Did we meet somewhere before, and I just don't remember?"

Qi Yi slowly shakes his head, bites his lip, and looks down at his hands resting on his knees. Eli waits. Qi Yi makes a decision and looks back up.

"I like your smiles. You always smiled at me, even when it was clear you were having a tough day. Most Americans these days... especially after COVID, but even before... most at best look through me and my friends. You smiled at me."

Eli hates that he understands what Qi Yi means. Racism is an ever-present aspect of American life. It comes in many forms. Reggie could give several lectures on the subject but Eli doesn't need lectures. He feels a sting of shame that something so small, such a basic act of human decency, was enough for Qi Yi to like him. He hopes it wasn't the only reason.

"And your jokes," Qi Yi adds, oblivious to Eli's inner turmoil, and Eli thinks, What jokes? Then he remembers how he tends to blurt out whatever comes to mind when he's nervous, which happens a lot. "They're never mean-spirited. Just observations about how weird or absurd the world can be. I like your sense of humor. And how you always order the same thing and ask to remove onions, then immediately apologize for it every time. And how you sometimes get so absorbed in your laptop that you don't hear anything around you, but you also never get angry when someone interrupts."

"Haha," Eli scoffs, embarrassed, rubbing his neck again. "You and your weird tastes."

It's easier to joke than to admit how deeply touched he is that someone noticed these little things about him, found them appealing, even.

"And one more thing," Qi Yi continues, looking away this time and blushing a little, "I was drawn to your vulnerability. Your openness? I wanted to protect you, even when I didn't know if you needed that. I kept telling myself I was just imagining things, seeing something that wasn't there, and then you disappeared, and I..." Qi Yi falls silent, staring into space, clenching his fists.

"What do you think now?" Eli asks, unsure what else to say or how to react, except to keep asking questions because that last confession touches on some deep chords in his soul, and sensible thoughts about the unhealthiness of attraction to vulnerability clash with the emotional pull toward warmth and this freely offered protection.

"I think you put your trust in the wrong person," Qi Yi says carefully, "and you suffered a lot because of it. But the ability to trust like that — it's a rare gift. Right now, I think that what drew me wasn't the vulnerability but what it pointed to. I hope that someday, someone can trust me that way."

"Someone..." Eli sadly echoes, "but not me? Someone who isn't broken?"

"You're not broken," Qi Yi counters sharply.

Eli smirks, rolling his eyes.

"Perhaps. Then why not me?"

"I never said that. The set of 'someones' includes you," Qi Yi grumbles, and Eli smiles, relieved and also just helpless before the sheer cuteness of a grumpy looking and still blushing Qi Yi.

"I did put my trust in you yesterday, didn't I? You could have broken me with a harsh word, taken advantage of my... vulnerability, as you called it. You could have done whatever you wanted — I was in no state to stop you. I wasn't thinking clearly, but on some level, I knew you'd take care of me."

Eli speaks slowly, finding the words as he goes, discovering the truth as it slips from his lips. He trusted Qi Yi completely, despite barely knowing him at all. And it's easy to argue that he had no other choice and that the risks were objectively low, but he wasn't being objective yesterday — he trusted him simply because with him Eli felt safe.

"Yes," Qi Yi smiles, "you trusted me to take care of you yesterday. Thank you."

"Anytime," Eli snorts, unsure how else to react.

Sitting on the bed in just their underwear and t-shirts, half a meter apart, and having such serious conversations feels absurd. It's strange, awkward, and a bit cold. And maybe, if Eli crawled back under the blanket and pulled Qi Yi along with him, it would at least be warmer. Qi Yi would probably let him, too. And Eli desperately wants to embrace him again, to accept all this undeserved care, but... but.

"You were right last night," he admits begrudgingly, "when you said we shouldn't... that we'd both regret it in the morning. But not for the reason you thought."

Qi Yi looks at him, expression unreadable, and Eli wonders if he's preparing himself for a polite "you're not my type" or "thanks for the help, but don't call me again." It's not like Eli ever responded to his confession, other than letting himself be comforted and clinging to Qi Yi for all he was worth.

It is weird — unfamiliar! — to be on the other side of this "I like you" equation for once. Eli desperately wants to throw caution to the wind and let Qi Yi take care of him, to let himself lean on him, to maybe even fall in love with him. But he remembers all too well how easily Silver shattered his resolve the night before, stripping away any illusions that Eli had moved on. He's all too aware of the void inside and the unhealthy desire to fill it at any cost.

"I like you too," he says, "obviously. But I'm not in a place where I can jump into a new relationship. Also obvious," he adds with a sad smile, absentmindedly rubbing the bruise on his thigh that turned green overnight. "It wouldn't be fair. I don't want to use you. I need to learn how to be okay. I need time. I'm sorry."

Qi Yi shakes his head:

"Don't apologize. And don't rush. I'm not in any hurry either."

The promise hidden in that simple statement takes Eli's breath away and nearly shatters his resolve to keep his distance from Qi Yi, to avoid burdening him with his troubles.

"We could... I mean, if you don't mind, no pressure, and I'll understand if you don't want to or if it's too much... and I probably shouldn't even be suggesting it, but I already said I'm not that great a person and right now I just... and I really do like you, so..."

"Eli," Qi Yi's calm voice, interrupting his rambling, carries a hint of a smile.

"Could we be friends?" Eli breathes out, "For now?"

Qi Yi nods, smiling for real this time — with his whole face, his whole body — and that wide, genuine smile almost makes Eli throw all his thoughts about healthy relationships and decisions out the window and crawl onto Qi Yi's lap, just to taste the shape of that wonderful smile. But he holds back.

"Yes," Qi Yi says. "Yes, let's do that."