The Fake Son Wants to Live [BL]
Chapter 191 - Subtle touches

Chapter 191: Chapter 191 - Subtle touches

The second spacecraft touched down with a soft thud beside the first, its metal frame hissing slightly as the hatch opened. Almost immediately, Eren leapt down with a loud whoop, the heels of his boots kicking up dust as he landed on the dirt road.

"So how long do you think we’ll be deployed here?" he asked loudly, stretching his arms above his head until his back popped. The sunlight spilled over his face, eyes closed as he tilted his head upward to bask in the warmth. "Not bad. Earth’s got a nice sun. Warm. Dry. I like it."

Varon stepped down behind him more quietly, his boots making less noise as he descended. He didn’t say a word. His eyes, calm and unreadable, settled on Eren’s animated face for a long moment. The look wasn’t one of annoyance or amusement—just that same steady, watchful expression that made it impossible to tell what he was really thinking.

But if one looked closely, they might notice the way his gaze lingered just a second too long on the curve of Eren’s jaw, the way his fingers flexed slightly at his sides before stilling again.

"Dunno," Eren finally answered himself, shrugging. "I like it here, though. Earth is kinda great without the humans, you know?" He turned around, walking backward, hands behind his head. "Peaceful. Quiet. No dumb noise. Just nature, and fruits, and—hey!"

He spun back around, frowning as he looked up at the shuttle still idling quietly, the hatch door still open. "What are you still lingering inside for? You reading the manual or something?"

Inside, Li Wang stood silently by the door, one hand gently resting on the curved surface of the ship. His fingertips brushed against the metal with a strange sort of interest, eyes thoughtful. The grooves, the residue of atmospheric re-entry, the subtle vibration still humming in the frame—all of it seemed to fascinate him in a quiet way.

But when Eren shouted, he blinked and stepped down without a word. He didn’t respond. Just calmly walked down the ramp and landed on the soft mud road with ease, his hands tucked behind his back.

Eren, by then, had already darted into the orchard.

The branches here were low and heavy with fruit. Plump peaches, ripe lychees, early persimmons—the air smelled sweet and summery. Eren wasted no time. He reached up, plucked a peach from the nearest branch, wiped it on his sleeve, and took a big bite.

His eyes lit up instantly.

"Varon!" he shouted through a mouthful of fruit, spinning around with juice already dripping down his chin. "Varon, try this! Oh my god, this is so delicious!"

Behind him, Varon walked forward slowly. His eyes weren’t on the fruit. They were still on Eren—on the way his lips glistened with juice, the way his throat worked as he swallowed, the way his fingers curled around the peach with careless enthusiasm.

Eren didn’t seem to notice the weight of that gaze. Or maybe he did, and simply chose to ignore it.

Li Wang, for his part, trailed behind them, gaze flitting briefly across the trees surrounding them.

Eren was already halfway up a tree, reaching for another bunch of fruit. It was like the man was enjoying a picnic, completely unbothered by the gravity of their mission.

"Seriously, Varon," Eren said again through bites, juice glistening on his lips. "You’re missing out. You gotta try one before they’re all gone."

Varon approached him finally and accepted the fruit silently. His fingers brushed Eren’s just briefly—a fleeting touch, warm and deliberate—before pulling away.

Eren didn’t react. Or at least, he pretended not to.

But the corner of Varon’s mouth twitched, just slightly, as if he knew.

Li Wang followed silently behind Eren and Varon, his expression unreadable, his dark eyes flickering with something indecipherable. The three of them soon reached the others—Jian, Nansich, and the remaining members of their unit—gathered in a small, overgrown clearing.

The air was heavy.

The others were bowing before a weathered grave, its marker cracked with age, the earth around it freshly disturbed. A young human—small, trembling—stood among them, silent tears streaking down their face.

Eren, who had been practically bouncing with energy moments before, stilled. His usual grin faded. He shifted awkwardly, glancing at Varon, then at the grave, then back again. He nudged Varon with his elbow, voice dropping to a whisper.

"Who is this...?"

Varon didn’t look at him. "I don’t know," he muttered back, voice low.

Eren exhaled through his nose, leaning in closer. "Our prince really had a habit of picking up stray humans, huh?"

Varon nudged him again, sharper this time—a silent command to shut up. When Eren opened his mouth to protest, Varon’s hand pressed firmly against his back, forcing him to straighten his posture. His palm lingered there for a moment longer than necessary, fingers pressing lightly into the fabric of Eren’s jacket before finally pulling away.

Eren pouted but obeyed, falling into line beside the others.

Jian gently guided Nansich away from the grave, murmuring something too soft for the rest to hear. Nansich nodded weakly, shoulders shaking, and allowed themselves to be led back toward the nearby house. The others followed, footsteps quiet against the dry earth.

Li Wang lingered at the back, his gaze distant. Then, just as they reached the threshold of the house, he spoke up.

"C-Can I borrow a phone, please...?"

His voice was quiet, hesitant—uncharacteristically so.

Nansich, still sniffling, barely glanced up. "It’s in the kitchen... on the counter," he managed, voice rough from crying.

Li Wang nodded once, a small, almost apologetic gesture, then slipped inside. The house was dim, the air thick with the scent of old wood and something faintly herbal. He moved quickly, his fingers brushing over the phone left on the kitchen counter. He snatched it up without hesitation.

Then, without another word, he stepped back outside.

He didn’t stop walking until he was far enough that no one could hear him. Only then did he lift the phone, dialing a number with quick, precise movements.

His hands didn’t shake.

But his voice, when he finally spoke, was barely above a whisper.

"It’s me. I found him."