I barely slept a night ago. Too much coffee during the day left me buzzing by evening, so I scrolled on my phone until who knows when—I finally dozed off without noticing. Half-asleep, the alarm’s shrill beep jolted me awake. Lying in bed, I stared into the dim room as my mind slowly cleared.
The alarm’s LED glow read 7:30 AM. Yesterday, Long Ge interviewed at that internet cafe. When she got back, I asked if she’d join me visiting the old man today—she agreed without hesitation. I yawned, dragged myself up to silence the alarm, and sat upright.
Outside, dawn barely touched the sky. Sparrows chirped faintly. I sighed, threw on a shirt, washed up, and headed to the kitchen.
Long Ge was still asleep—never a morning person. Good thing I’d nudged her to sleep early last night; we had the hospital visit today. She knew about the old man too, and when I mentioned going together, she didn’t hesitate.
I left the lights off. The living room stayed shadowy, lit only by the stove’s glow. Oil sizzled thinly in the pan, frying the sunny-side-up egg golden and crisp.
That cafe sat near the department store—a busy street. The job’d be tough.
She probably felt she was burdening me. I’m barely past twenty: high school grad, heading to college soon, living on generous parental allowance. Honestly? I didn’t mind her staying forever. But she did.
Pride ran deep in her. Comfortable as being waited on hand and foot was, she wanted to earn her keep—just like when she managed an internet cafe before.
Plus, the new gig offered room and board. Unless it was a holiday, I’d rarely see her. Long Ge’s stubborn. I’d argued—*“Normal costs? No problem for me.”*
I’m not fussy. We’ve known each other forever; rent never crossed my mind. I didn’t want her moving out—but she’d just shake her head, mute, eyes locked on her screen.
She usually listens… but her refusal tactic’s childish. Whenever I said *“Don’t go,”* she’d pretend total game focus, ignoring me like I was just rambling static.
After a few tries, I gave in—reluctantly—and asked about pay. That cafe’s new. I know the spot. Old Shen used to log hours there…
I slid the egg onto a plate and sighed.
*Another expense.*
Day after tomorrow, she starts. I’ll drop by daily for an hour—just to check. Can’t shake the worry.
I’m no gamer. At cafes, I only play League—habit from high school with Old Shen. At least I’ll have *something* to do while watching her. Won’t end up playing Candy Crush like a newbie.
I knew her old net-manager gig: cigarette dangling, glued to her screen, barely glancing up when customers came. Log-ins, quick clean-ups—easy work.
But this? More server than manager. Fetch snacks for Machine 3, deliver drinks… You’d need saint-level patience dealing with orders.
And Long Ge? Petite, curvy, soft-looking… practically inviting trouble. Some clueless jerk tries anything? I already see it: one roundhouse kick later. She’s gentle with me—but feisty with others. Last time? Nearly sent me to the ICU.
I checked the clock—almost 8 AM. Time to eat. I plated breakfast and went to wake her.
Her room was dark, curtains drawn. Gray morning light seeped through blue fabric, outlining a small figure on the bed. I sat beside her. Long Ge lay sprawled, eyes closed, long lashes trembling slightly.
She still wore my white tee, one hand resting on her stomach—almost poetic… if not for the other hand tucked into her underwear, occasionally scratching her butt.
Her bleached-white hair was a messy halo. Bangs hid half her face. Gently, I brushed the strands aside.
In the gloom, her skin glowed faintly luminous.
I sighed, stood, flipped the light. “Rise and shine! What time d’you think it is?”
She groaned, arm flung over her eyes. I watched helplessly as she squinted one gem-red eye at me, drowsy.
She blinked slowly, yawned, glanced at the bedside clock. “What time…? Aren’t we going at ten…?”
I sighed. “Yeah, but skipping breakfast? Waking this late *and* skipping meals? Your stomach’ll revolt when you’re older.”
She smiled sleepily. “Since when did you turn into a mother hen…?”
Hands on hips, I grinned. “Yep. Mother hen. Up. Eat.”
Sprawled, clothes askew, she shielded one eye from the ceiling. After a pause: “Turn the light off… my eyes hurt. The hospital’s close—we’ll make it. Cold food’s fine; we’ve got a microwave.”
I hesitated, sighed, switched it off. Darkness returned.
“You sleeping more?”
In the dim, I saw her turn toward me, a soft “Mm” escaping her lips.
*Sigh.* Sunny-side-up’s best fresh. Microwaved? Tough, rubbery. But she wouldn’t budge. No choice. I turned to leave.
“Old Lu.”
I glanced back.
In the shadows, she clutched the quilt, pale leg draped over it. Half-lidded eyes, lazy yet bright, held mine.
My hand on the doorknob: “Yeah?”
She studied me, then whispered: “Come here.”
Wary: “Why? What now?”
She stretched an arm, smiling. “Just hold me while I nap.”
I froze. “You serious?”
She waved me closer, exasperated. “What’re you scared of? I’ll conk out and won’t wake up. Be my pillow. I’ll hug you. Wake me when it’s time.”
I remembered tidying her room yesterday. After a night gaming, the desk was chaos—even in dim light, I saw the mess…
I opened my mouth to refuse.
Then it hit me: in two days, she moves out. This room will never be messy again. Just… tidy. Forever.
I stood frozen. Then, as if pulled by strings, I shuffled over and sat on the edge.
*Damn it. We’ve done way more intimate stuff before. A hug? Big deal.*
In the dark, she smiled, half-prone, arm tucked under her cheek. She patted the pillow. “Lie down.”
I sighed, lifted the quilt, slid in beside her with a wry smile. “Every time I enter your room, you demand a hug. Addicted or what?”
She didn’t answer. Shifted closer. Her soft hand rested on my chest. Warm curves pressed gently against my back.
Heat crept up my face in the dark.
Her leg draped over mine. Small. Soft. Our bodies fitted close.
After a long silence, she drew a slow breath. Whispered:
“Addicted.”
My heart skipped a beat.
