Chapter 8: His Notes

Having something to look forward to made studying feel far less unbearable.

Thinking back carefully, nothing sudden or dramatic had happened between him and Ethan to trigger a sudden leap in their relationship; the two of them were more like sugar cubes dropped into coffee, melting together naturally and harmoniously without either of them even noticing. The amount of time Lucas spent dozing off decreased by a noticeable margin. He walked to and from school with Ethan, and they ate lunch together; occasionally during class breaks, he would even bring questions he couldn't understand to Ethan for an explanation.

Ethan didn't treat him with any obvious favoritism, always answering in his deep voice before adding a casual, "What do you want to eat for lunch?"

When Ethan played basketball, Lucas would sit by the court clutching the notes Ethan had organized for him. Whenever he grew sleepy and started nodding off, it wouldn't be long before Ethan would press a cold bottle of mineral water against his face, jolting him awake.

"Dozing off like that in winter will make you catch a cold."

"My body is super healthy."

After going back and forth through slightly comical exchanges like this a few times, Ethan stopped trying to persuade him. Whenever he caught Lucas dozing off again, he would casually drape his jacket—which he had taken off and set aside—over Lucas, then throw himself back onto the court to burn off his energy.

"I just can't figure it out... Why are you so close with Lucas Tong...?" On Friday afternoon, while a few of the guys were playing ball, Ethan and Leo rotated off the court to buy water at the store. Leo suddenly brought it up, "Isn't it awkward for him sitting over there? Why not invite him to play with us next time...?"

Paying for his own bottle, Ethan opened his mineral water and tilted his head back to take a sip: "He and I should get along pretty well."

"Huh?"

"Neither of us likes to talk much," Ethan said.

Leo squeezed his brows into a deep frown, pondering for a moment before saying, "Guess that makes sense. It's just that Lucas is so hard to get along with."

"Is he?"

The two turned back shoulder-to-shoulder, walking toward the basketball court. Leo began offering his own assessment of Lucas, which differed little from what everyone else thought: "He just hates paying attention to people. He always looks half-asleep, and if you talk to him, he ignores eight out of ten sentences. Back at the start of the semester, I asked him if he wanted to play ball together or hit the net cafe on the weekend to play games, and he just shook his head without uttering a single word. Mark sits right in front of him, and he hates Lucas too, saying the guy is just putting on an act..."

As Leo rambled on, he naturally looked over at Ethan, as if waiting for his agreement.

Ethan was indeed looking back at him, though his expression wasn't particularly friendly—looking a few degrees colder than his usual poker face.

Leo was instantly struck silent, drawing out an awkward "Uh..." He really shouldn't have said those things right in front of Ethan; even a fool could see that Lucas was on good terms with him. After a brief pause, Ethan shifted his gaze away, landing on Lucas, who was sitting not far away dozing off: "...He just doesn't talk much, and I don't talk much either."

"Well, you're obviously different, Bro Ethan! Your grades are great, and you help anyone who asks..."

However, Ethan didn't seem to hear a word of it. He quickened his pace toward Lucas, tossing a nonchalant "I'm heading back first" to Leo. Unsure if his words had offended Ethan, Leo stood rooted on the spot with an awkward, flustered expression—he genuinely enjoyed hanging out with Ethan, not to mention Ethan had great grades and often let him copy homework.

He watched Ethan walk up to the bench, lowering his hand to press the cold water bottle against Lucas's face. The lazy slacker—who knew nothing but sleeping all day and had no friends—was instantly jolted awake by the chill. He then very naturally picked up the jacket draped over himself, handing it back to Ethan while looking up, his lips curving into a smile as he said something.

Truth be told, Lucas was actually pretty handsome; even Leo, as another guy, had to admit that.

But precisely because he was handsome, ignoring people made him look like even more of a pretentious snob, so it was no wonder few guys hung out with him.

—

"Heading home?" Lucas squinted, handing the padded jacket back to Ethan. "I want ice cream..."

Ethan looked down at him, taking the coat and slipping it on briskly: "Then we'll take a detour later."

When Lucas first discovered Ethan's jacket draped over him, he had been slightly startled. But when Ethan took the jacket back without making a fuss—not even saying a word of nonsense—Lucas's nervous flutter and anxiety gradually faded away. As the saying goes, distance fades with familiarity. With frequent contact, those moments that used to make his heart race settled into a comforting daily routine.

Yet, it was still utterly sweet.

Everyone else had grown accustomed to the sight; Ethan often left early, walking home with Lucas.

The noise on the basketball court continued. Unbothered by how he looked, Lucas slouched slightly, shoving his hands into his pockets as he asked sluggishly, "Tomorrow's Saturday."

"Yeah."

"Are you going to your granddad's house, or coming to pick me up, or...?"

"Come to my place," Ethan said with a rare trace of self-consciousness, shooting him a quick glance. "It's right near the convenience store at that intersection. Wait for me there tomorrow at 1:30? Or 2:00?"

"1:30 then... Are your parents home?"

"No, but my little brother is."

"You have a little brother...?" Lucas asked in surprise. "How old?"

"Five. His name is Sam."

"Different last name from you?"

"Yeah, different fathers," Ethan said. "Don't you have a sister too?"

"Huh, how do you know that?"

"Saw her that day. She came out of the stairwell and stood behind you," Ethan said. "You two look a lot alike. She's very pretty."

"She is pretty good-looking, but she has a boyfriend."

When teenage high school boys talked about "pretty women," their thoughts easily drifted toward romance, to the point where Lucas completely failed to pick up on the fact that Ethan's compliment was a roundabout way of saying *he* was handsome. Lucas simply felt a sudden surge of rivalry even regarding his own sister—Ethan was naturally quite mature, looking distinctly mature compared to their classmates. Could he actually prefer older women?

Before Ethan could reply, Lucas pressed on: "You don't happen to like my sister's type, do you? Because I won't help you out."

—*Of course he wouldn't help the guy he liked chase someone else; that would be way too painful.*

"You're overthinking."

"Oh, really? Well, she has a boyfriend anyway—just announced it recently."

Today was no different from any other day. Chatting idly, they took a detour to McDonald's, bought a buy-one-get-one-half-off ice cream, and ate as they walked home. Whenever he was with Ethan, Lucas could feel himself becoming dense; every time he recalled their casual conversations, he could spot several instances where he sounded like a total idiot.

It was only at night, after showering and lying in bed while holding Ethan's physics notes, that his heart began to pound in delayed reaction.

Tomorrow, he was going to Ethan's house to spend an entire afternoon.

"...Could there be any progress?" He abruptly set down the notebook, placing it right over his chest. Even through the paper, he could feel his rapid heartbeat. "Or should I just confess directly...? It's better to confess before leaving, right? Otherwise, if it gets awkward, the whole afternoon together is ruined... Forget it, if I confess now, we might not even talk to each other before graduation."

Lucas lay on his back, talking to himself for a while, then curled up in the soft bedding while clutching the notebook to his side.

This was bad—once his thoughts started down this path, the images in his mind kept playing on loop without pause. The sight of Ethan looking down while reading mesmerized him most, especially those long eyelashes that seemed slightly out of place with his cold exterior. But that slight mismatch didn't diminish his charm; it was like discovering a hunting leopard in the forest stretching lazily like a house cat, making him seem all the more endearing.

As the recalled images grew richer and more vividly realistic, Lucas closed his eyes.

It felt as if a switch had been flipped inside his body, a surge of youthful restlessness coursing wildly through his blood, guiding his senses toward a direction that made him blush yet proved impossible to resist.

He curled up tighter under the covers, untying the drawstring of his pajama pants. Still holding onto Ethan's notebook, he caught a subtle trace of Ethan's scent amidst his deliberately restrained breathing.

—

The next afternoon, the weather warmed up slightly for a change. Lucas stood at the entrance of the convenience store wearing earphones.

Following Ethan's habit, he had been listening to English audio passages the entire way over, his lips opening and closing occasionally as he mouthed the words silently. In his hand, he held a translucent white plastic bag filled to the brim with snacks and drinks.

When Ethan walked over, tall and upright in the distance, Lucas was just switching the bag to his other hand because his fingers hurt from the weight. Catching sight of him, Lucas instinctively popped out one earbud and jogged up to meet him: "You're so punctual!"

"It's alright. Have you been waiting long?" Ethan said, reaching out to take the heavy bag from his hands.

Lucas wasn't shy about it—he genuinely disliked carrying heavy things—so he handed it over directly, pulling out a popsicle from the bag along the way: "Nah, only like five minutes?"

"This way," Ethan said. He suddenly reached out toward Lucas's chest, taking hold of the dangling earbud, and imitated what Lucas had done before by tilting his head to slip it into his own ear. "...Hmm, you've made progress."

"...I'm very smart, you know," Lucas said, curving his lips into a smile.

"I know, I can tell," Ethan said. "What do you plan to do about the physical education exam? Failing every single event is going to be trouble."

"...Even if you kill me, I won't pass."

"Starting next week, play basketball with me. It'll help a little."

"Do I really have to? I almost never play..."

Lucas bit into his popsicle while Ethan carried the bag, leading him toward his house.

Ethan's house wasn't as far as he had imagined. Walking from their meeting spot took less than ten minutes; going to school from here probably took about the same time as from his own place. Following behind Ethan, he watched him unlock the front door. Before Lucas could even peek inside, a loud crashing noise echoed from within, as if something had shattered on the floor.

"Sam?" Ethan called out gently.

Lucas leaned past Ethan's side to look into the apartment, only to see a red-faced, flustered young boy running out, wobbling as he threw himself against Ethan's legs: "Brother..."

"What did you do?"

"...Broke a bowl..." The troublemaking child spoke with a mixture of guilt and distress, only then noticing another head poking out from behind his brother's shoulder. "Who is that?"

Ethan supported his shoulders to nudge him aside slightly before stepping inside to take off his shoes: "Brother's classmate... Go play, I'll clean it up."

Lucas looked curiously at the boy, then at Ethan. The wonder in his eyes was like discovering a brand-new continent—Ethan was so gentle, possessing a soft side that was completely unnoticeable in his day-to-day life.

"Come on in," Ethan said, completely unaware of Lucas's thoughts. He set out guest slippers and turned back to tell him, "I'll go clean up inside first. Pull the door shut behind you."

"Okay."

Chapter 9: His Room

An extremely ordinary living room, with extremely ordinary decor.

Lucas had tried to picture what Ethan's house would look like, but no matter how he imagined it, he couldn't deviate from Ethan's vibe—he always assumed it would be just like the guy himself, washed in cool tones

Chapter 10: His Silhouette

*Pulp Fiction* was a movie Lucas had stumbled upon back in middle school. Once exposed to it, there was no stopping him; he ended up watching practically all of Quentin Tarantino's works. On his middle school graduation classmate memory books, under "Favorite Movie," he h