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When Long Jia moved into the new dorm, he had an inkling that this roommate was a fragile person.
He had heard from a friend during the preliminary selection that SPF had likely already reserved a few spots, leaving only two or three actual spots available.
Luckily, the competitors from Class A were not particularly outstanding, so he didn’t remember too many names.
After several assessments, taking first place had become the norm, and tying for first with that classmate had also become routine.
Sometimes, while the teacher was lecturing, Long Jia would glance over at Bo Jue.
His hair is so long, and his profile so handsome.
Those in the know were aware early on that a former championship contestant had joined their class and might even be there to secretly pick teammates.
Bo Jue was striking in appearance and cool in speech, so ordinary people who approached him with flattery didn’t fare well and only dared to complain about his bad temper behind his back.
Long Jia, having grown up attending social gatherings with his parents, was quite astute in reading people from a young age, a kind of worldly wisdom typical of his family.
When he first moved in, he spoke little and did little.
First, he watched as four or five people attempted to cozy up and were rebuffed, then he spent a long time in the piano and dance rooms, occasionally listening to the fluent piano playing next door.
Bo Jue always appeared aloof, moving alone, occasionally sparring verbally with Xie Lianyun, who would come to visit.
Long Jia, facing away, would work on his music theory homework and couldn’t help but laugh after hearing a few words.
He found this roommate to be simple, cautious, and very endearing.
Their first real interaction was during class when they were grouped together as partners.
Bo Jue looked unusually unsettled.
A group dance could at least hide weaknesses by positioning, but a solo dance would expose all flaws.
Long Jia tried to make eye contact with him, but the other kept his head down and practiced silently all afternoon as if he had suddenly lost his spark.
“…That’s not how you dance.” Long Jia didn’t hold his arm but maintained a distance as if dealing with a skittish animal: “Step left on the first beat, then shift your weight to the left, and turn right on the second count.”
Bo Jue quickly responded and missed a step the next second.
“Hisss.”
“Sorry,” he said, becoming flustered in an area he wasn’t good at, a bit frustrated: “I’ll practice on my own, it’s getting late, thanks.”
“It’s much better already,” Long Jia said gently: “Try again, focus on your center of gravity.”
They practiced for that performance from the afternoon until 8:30 in the evening, by which time the cafeteria had closed, so they had to return to the dorm to eat instant noodles.
Long Jia’s instruction was meticulous, and both of their performances aligned considerably; before leaving, he even smiled and praised his quick progress.
Bo Jue tried to maintain his expression, and as they walked back to the dorm together, his eyes were smiling all the way.
They gradually became familiar with each other.
Initially, their conversations were limited to homework and assessments, later expanding to include their favorite bands and picking up water for each other on the way.
A few days later, taking turns teaching Huo Ren to play the piano seemed to become a routine break between classes.
Huo Huo’s memory was unbelievably good; he remembered every nuance of finger position and pressure at once, never repeating the same mistake twice.
Bo Jue rarely smiled so warmly, sitting in the piano room all day long, progressing through three Carl Czerny books in a week, feeling a great sense of achievement.
Long Jia liked people who were clean and pure, naturally feeling a strong affection for both of them.
He had many friends, daily lavishing him with a variety of snacks and small gifts, and in class, a group always vied to practice with him.
Others feared Bo Jue’s cold demeanor and tended to keep their distance, making him seem somewhat out of place.
“It’s okay, I’ll hang out with my roommate; you guys go have fun.”
“A duet, huh? I already have plans, maybe next time~”
Bo Jue breathed a sigh of relief, grateful that he didn’t have to force himself to approach Xie Lianyun again.
He was perceptive, aware that his friend was discreetly helping him out. He would politely make excuses, suggesting he could find another partner.
Long Jia, with a lollipop in his mouth, stayed to practice the moves with him and showed no signs of leaving, laughing without saying a word.
Bo Jue wasn’t unsociable, just allergic to mediocrity.
With too much pride held within, he often seemed out of place.
Awkwardly accepting this kindness, Bo Jue gradually began to trust him.
This was evident in the increasing number of personal items in their dorm room.
A row of succulents in ceramic pots, large bunches of multicolored bellflowers in crystal vases at the corner of the desk, and even an aroma diffuser by the bed— the room was arranged with a real sense of life.
Their playful bickering grew more frequent, and long-suppressed preferences and dislikes tentatively emerged like the cautious tendrils of a sea anemone.
“Long Jia, could you chew your chips a little quieter?!”
“Teacher Bo, come try one; they’re really tasty—”
“—Are you even listening to me?!”
“Please, you’ve been in the shower for almost an hour; what are you doing in there, applying chick-shaped patches?”
“It’s hard to wash long hair! If it’s urgent, go find Huo Huo!”
“How about I come in and help you comb it?”
“No, don’t come in! I’m not dressed yet!”
During that time, Long Jia often went home and rarely slept in the dorm, maybe two or three times a week.
Sometimes, after Bo Jue had showered, he would sit on the lower bunk, tilting his head as he combed his hair, casually chatting.
The air was warm and fragrant, as if from his long hair to his pajamas, a pleasant mist was emanating.
The young man inexplicably found it hard to concentrate.
Their conversation was brief, and his cheeks flushed lightly.
Teacher Bo smells so good.
Although he always smelled nice, right after his shower, he seemed even softer…
“So, about that chord progression, it shouldn’t have been changed,” Bo Jue murmured his complaint: “Don’t you think?”
Long Jia blinked, took another sniff.
Then he quietly moved a bit farther away.
Don’t hug people randomly; it could be misunderstood.
After a few months, they moved to the seventeenth floor.
Six boys lived together like a family, their lives seamlessly intertwined.
Long Jia and Bo Jue’s bedrooms were directly across from each other, separated by a reasonably spacious corridor.
The good thing was that it made collaborating on songs convenient; the downside was the high probability of awkward encounters.
Like Xie Lianyun, Long Jia, fresh from the shower in just a robe, would stride around, going in and out to grab fruits or move a guitar, his clothes seldom fully on, his abs and chest all exposed for the sake of staying cool.
He was carefree and unbothered, while someone else had to forcibly avert his gaze to the computer screen, once twisting his neck until it hurt.
Bo Jue was usually calm and collected, but he was grumpy in the mornings, loving to linger in bed.
Every time Long Jia knocked on his door to wake him or came to discuss something with documents in hand, he would see a bleary-eyed, long-haired fool.
Either he looked as if someone was mistreating him, or he would nod absently, having not taken in a word.
Sometimes, annoyed by the nagging, he would frown and hum several times in agreement, leaning on the door frame, rubbing his eyes.
His long hair cascaded down his waist, like a curtain of disheveled black feathers.
Long Jia thought to himself how even in displeasure, the other seemed even more adorable, later taking it upon himself to routinely wake Huo Ren in the mornings.
After living together for two years, what seemed like a typical teammate relationship quietly took a turn.
At the Crown Café, it wouldn’t have crossed Long Jia’s mind if Xie Lianyun hadn’t mentioned it.
He had never pondered his own sexual orientation, thinking at seventeen or eighteen, despite hormonal surges, he wouldn’t stumble over this issue.
But once he thought about it, comparing their interactions to fanfiction, he realized something was off in every detail.
Investigating this felt like self-diagnosing on the internet.
There was nothing at first, but the more he looked, the more he couldn’t help but see the signs.
Many things he’d ignored were actually vivid in his memory, now lining up clearly in his mind, practically shining with the words:
Ironclad proof.
Apple and pear soup is delicious, playing the piano looks beautiful, even scolding when angry isn’t harsh.
Actually afraid of being alone, yet always stubborn, with a soft and warmth-seeking heart.
Always taking care of everyone without seeking credit, even secretly hiding what he had done.
The more Long Jia thought about it, the more his heart raced.
His feelings for Teacher Bo were more than just a crush; they were especially intense.
The young master Long Jia was usually very confident, his self-esteem almost overflowing, never doubting his own charm.
However, after a few concerts and major performances, he’d experience a second or two of doubt.
Bo Jue and Xie Lianyun would go to play the guqin, piano, and organ, accompanying the concert from the waterside as they performed a sword dance, the fans screaming chaotically below.
Long Jia didn’t look much, just drank his water quietly.
How come he felt he had no advantages?
Bo Jue and Huo Ren would organize schedules together, marking manuals and a stack of documents clearly, able to explain key information in just a few words, then laughing as they took notes.
Long Jia would bring them milk, wondering if his emotional intelligence was lacking.
Too close, and he couldn’t help but act spoiled; too far, and the relationship grew distant.
He circled around this delicate balance like a large dog, only daring to hold more in his dreams.
Sometimes, it was a bit heartbreaking.
But seeing Bo Jue laugh made him inexplicably happy for a long time, even if he didn’t know what the laughter was about.
Long Jia shared these thoughts with Xie Lianyun, who looked at him with pity.
“You’re hopeless.”
The two had a subtle understanding.
Knowing the other was infatuated, they could sense every secret glance.
Like two children playing a game of tag, hiding everything yet wanting to show everything to each other.
The first time they kissed, it felt so warm it almost melted.
So soft, wanting to kiss more.
Finally holding him, finally able to confess his love, repeatedly.
Their faces flushed as they tried a deep kiss, not pulling away even when a younger brother walked in on them.
Long Jia quietly held his hand, his heart joyously tumbling inside.
Little Jue really likes me too.
That’s great, he likes me too.
Kyaaahh