Rong Ye wanted to kill Caelan.
Because Caelan kept banging on the damn bathroom door. Once, twice, three times. Always with that insistent rhythm. The sound was dry, irritating, and each bang made his head pound, worsening the fever already burning behind his eyes.
If it weren't for his weakness, if it weren't for that sticky heat pressing him to the ground, Rong Ye would have already opened the door just to cut off his hands. To make sure he never persisted like that again.
But instead, he huddled closer to the toilet, his arms wrapped tightly around his knees, as if he could disappear into his own body.
Caelan didn't understand his silence or his refusals.
Rong Ye didn't want to go out.
He didn't want to talk.
And, of course, he didn't want to see him.
"You'll have to leave at some point," Caelan snapped from the other side of the door.
Rong Ye closed his eyes tightly.
"Is it because we left you alone?" Caelan asked.
Rong Ye did not reply.
