What's the Point of Living, when the best is Sleeping? [BL]

26

As soon as Ye Ming turns right out of the school corridor, leaving the three men, the pitiful facade that he's wearing immediately fades away. His cerulean blue eyes gleamed, coupled with the darkness of the unlit hallway.

A lamb, in their eyes, is a wolf, pretending to be the type of animal that they would not expect it to be, is a good game that can manipulate their perception, making them think he's genuinely grateful for their existence in his life... when he's actually directing them to leave.

He's not a damsel in distress that needs to be bridal carried or whatsoever— then he suddenly paused, thinking that he had almost forgotten the very main reason, the sole purpose of his existence in this world. It's not about being some passerby; it's about him wanting to sleep and be free from the responsibilities that the world imposed on him, just because it evolves.

Ye Ming pushed the skin of his left cheek inside with his tongue, quickly sat down on the cold floor, and took his phone out. His finger slides unfamiliarly, navigating the contact info with barely in it, scrolling patiently before he taps the familiar one... he knows his face but not his name.

He let the call ring first and then, all of a sudden, ended the call. He then tilted his body, leaning against the cold wall, before he counted the sheep he's been missing for months now. The moment he imagined the fluffy wool of those sheep, his lips tingled, and he remembered his backpack that he casually tossed inside his locker... There is a pillow inside his bag... his yellow throw pillow that he stole from his mother's sofa.

The man arrives, his imposing body build really is suitable for carrying an adult person like a sack of rice, immediately lifting the now dossing off young man who is mumbling about incomprehensible something yellow.

Muchen who finally saw his young master's original lifestyle once again, just shrugged his shoulders and decided to leave the school while supporting (?) his young master to the awaiting car.

The car rolled up the driveway without sound, its engine dulled by years of careful maintenance. Muchen stepped out first, one hand balancing Ye Ming's weight as if it were second nature, the other closing the door with quiet precision. The young man was slumped against him, his head tilted to the side, strands of hair catching the dim porch light. He wasn't completely asleep, but close—hovering in that space where his body gave in while his mind still wandered faintly.

They entered the house without much noise, though the faint shuffle of shoes against the polished floor was enough to draw the attention of the man in the living room. He sat at the far end of the couch, legs crossed, a mug of coffee resting in one hand while his other flipped through paperwork stacked on the glass table before him. His dark eyes lifted as the door clicked shut.

The front door opened with a soft creak, letting in the muted light of dusk. Muchen, carrying most of Ye Ming's weight with patience, stepped inside first, his steady gait betraying the weight in his arms. The scene that greeted him wasn't unfamiliar. Ye Ming's head lolled slightly against his shoulder, his hair brushing against the fabric of Muchen's coat. He looked as if he had been scooped straight out of a dream, still mumbling fragments that made little sense.

"Again?" his voice carried, calm but edged with amusement.

Muchen inclined his head in a small bow, polite as always. "Young master was already dozing off when I found him." His tone was pleasant, light, as though this habit was no burden but routine.

Ye Chuan leaned back against the couch, papers momentarily forgotten. His gaze lingered on Ye Ming, whose arm had slipped loosely around Muchen's shoulder, fingers twitching faintly as though grasping at a dream. "He's going to grow roots in his sleep one day," he muttered, sipping his coffee again, even the living room now smells the same.

Ye Ming stirred faintly at the words, lids fluttering half-open. He made no effort to straighten himself, instead letting out a muffled sound, somewhere between a hum and a word, before whispering, "Not... true." His voice was hoarse, soft, and carried little weight, five syllables strung together before he sank back into silence.

Muchen's lips curved faintly at the rare protest. "At least he heard you," he remarked, shifting his hold so that Ye Ming rested more comfortably against him.

The brother chuckled under his breath, shaking his head as he leaned forward to gather his papers into a neat pile. "It seems being called a sleep addict finally offended him." His tone wasn't sharp, more like a private joke shared at the expense of his sibling's fragile pride.

With quiet steps, Muchen carried Ye Ming past the living room, the faint rustle of fabric trailing in their wake. The brother's gaze followed, softened not with pity but with a kind of measured concern... something he rarely voiced out loud.

"Don't forget the pillow, Uncle Muchen," he called, his eyes narrowing knowingly.

The older man gave a small nod, already aware. "Yes, yes... The yellow one."

At that, Ye Ming made a faint shift, his brow furrowing almost imperceptibly. The mention of the pillow stirred something in him, enough to make him mumble again, "Yellow..." before drifting back into silence, face buried into Muchen's shoulder.

Ye Chuan watched them disappear up the stairs, coffee cooling in his cup before he finally, once again, took a sip. His paperwork sat untouched for the moment, forgotten as his thoughts lingered elsewhere. A tired smile played across his lips, a smile that was not mocking, not entirely affectionate either, but something balanced in between. He took one more sip, eyes lowering back to the stack of responsibilities in front of him, yet the faint sound of Muchen's steady steps carrying Ye Ming upstairs remained in his ears longer than he expected.

ochi: see? i did not forget you guys */sweating... off topic, my left shift key is not working for days now.