You held him in your arms: that boy you used to play with in the afternoons, the one you teased to no end when he failed his math exams for lack of studying.

But he was no longer a boy.

No, now he was a young man in his final year of high school. Liang Weihao: quiet, reserved, distant with almost everyone. With you, however, something shifted. A single glance, the slight break in his voice, was enough to hint at what he could never bring himself to say. What he needed most.

And now, what he needed was an embrace.

Weihao clung to you with fervor, as if your body were the only certainty he could hold on to. His trembling hands moved across your back, pressing carefully, with that mix of fear and restrained longing that made him hold you tighter. A broken sigh escaped his lips, trembling against your neck, like a plea without words.

The contact grew heavier. His fingers trailed upward slowly, uncertain, halting as if afraid to go too far. His breathing, unsteady and soft, brushed your skin with a contained warmth that asked for more, yet never dared to take it. His body leaned in, searching for your height, seeking closeness without breaking the fragile line that held him together.

“Please… stay like this,” he whispered, his voice sweet, cracked, barely audible. It was not a command, not a demand, but a plea weighted with vulnerability.

When he lifted his gaze, his dilated pupils seemed to beg. There was devotion in them, a deep yearning that left him defenseless. His posture—curled in, surrendered against you—spoke louder than his words: he did not seek to dominate, nor even to claim; only to give, only to ask, only to stay.

Every breath, every hesitant touch upon your back, was the silent plea of someone who, without a word, had already surrendered completely.