"You're still doing the... what, angry cooking? Anxiety cooking? 'Glad to see your ex' cooking?" He waved to the general direction of the mess in the kitchen.

Whew, he went straight to the jugular.

But he knew Yibo would do that when he's angry, he's not the type who's skirting around any uncomfortable topic. And yes, he deserved that.

"Yes." He gave a vague answer, not willing to let Yibo knows about his true feelings. "I made spicy beef noodles. Which happened to be your favorite, if it still is.." he picked up the knife, and washed it before using it to cut the coriander.

Yibo did not respond. He just went over to the tv and checking out the game console, before turned it on.
 
And just like that, it became the familiar scene from his old life, where he cooked for both of them when he had a chance, and Yibo, banned from the kitchen, waited for him while playing games on his phone or tv, before they'd have meal together, talking about their days, their jobs, whining and bitching about everything, and then... and then...
 
No, he would not allow his mind to go there. He would not even touching that with 10 feet pole.
 
Breathe in... breathe out... calm your mind... breathe in... breathe out...
 
After a while, he regained his composure, and continued cooking.
 

He put two bowls of noodles on the table. One with extra vinegar, just as how Yibo liked it. 

He was just about to call him, but Yibo's already there, bringing two bottles of cold beer, and put one in front of Xiao Zhan. And without any words, he started to eat.
 
They didn't say anything at all for the duration of the meal. Just 2 people who used to be more than friends, now strangers with nothing to say.

At least, he had nothing to say.
 
They finished their meal, and he took the bowl to the sink, and Yibo lets him, unlike back when he was the one who washed when the other's cooked routine.

Simple things that reminded him of how different their situations back then and now.
 

He was very aware of the other's presence. Just like the air that he breathe, he never knew how much he needed it until it was too late. 

Same goes with this man. 

He never knew how much he needed him... until it was too late. 
 

He felt his hands trembled so hard he had to grab the sink before he breaks anything. But before he can compose himself, he feels that he was hugged from behind by a familiar body he used to know so well.
They have always fit each other perfectly, like 2 parts of the puzzle, just like this.
 
It took a while until his trembling ceased, and both of them said nothing, although he can feel that the other's lips were touching the back of his neck, just like he used to do.

Inhaling the other's scent.
 
But the question was still there, hung in the air, and no one dared to say it out loud. Afraid that this fragile moments between them will end too soon.
 
He felt a single tear was running down his cheek, and he made no move to wipe it away. He just doesn't care anymore.

His heart died the day that he left, just as he left his soul behind, and he had no right to come back to that again. And he was nothing if not right.
 
Just when he was about to push the other away, he was let go rather abruptly. He moaned at the loss of the warmth, but bite it back, knowing that he. Had. No. Right.

And when he turned around, ready to apologize, he was already alone.