The Fake Son Wants to Live [BL]-Chapter 154 - Sleeping arrangement

Nansich quickly brushed the dust and bits of hay off the jar, inspecting it for cracks. Miraculously, it hadn’t shattered—just a small dent on the lid. He popped it open with a soft pop, dipping a curious finger inside. The jam clung thick and sticky to his skin, deep red and shining even in the low light.

He licked it.

"Wow... it’s beetroot jam," he mumbled, surprised, smacking his lips. "It’s so sweet. So damn good."

He looked up at Zia, still standing close—watching him. Those glowing golden eyes reflected the dim light like a cat’s, unblinking and unreadable.

"Here, try it," Nansich said, holding the open jar up toward the man’s face.

Zia didn’t move. Just gazed down at the offering... then at Nansich’s face. His head tilted ever so slightly, the same way he had earlier, as if studying a new animal, or trying to decipher the tone of his voice.

Nansich blinked, lips quirking into a small frown. "Seriously? It’s not poison. Look."

He scooped a bit more onto his finger and held it up between them. "Here. Just eat this."

Honestly, he meant to hand it over.

Then his hands froze. He cant just feed it to him. Currently he did not have a spoon or anything with him. If he had the bread he could have scooped some on it and gave it to him.

’can I just smear on some piece of hay? Would that even be sanitary?’ he looked around trying to find something to use as a spoon

But before he could even think of a workaround, Zia leaned forward.

And without hesitation... sucked it right off his finger.

Nansich’s breath caught in his throat.

Warm lips closed around his fingertip, and a soft tongue followed the jam’s path, licking slowly, carefully, like it was tasting more than just food.

His body froze, finger still held up, trapped in Zia’s mouth. The slow drag of the tongue against his skin made his chest tighten.

Then Zia pulled back, lips releasing him with a faint wet sound.

Nansich’s hand dropped a little, fingers still curled from the sensation. "You..."

He cleared his throat, face heating. He was definitely blushing for sure. And he had no way to hide it. "Uh. So you liked it, huh?" he said awkwardly looking away.

Zia tilted his head again and softly murmured, "Flik’tah."

The word rolled out of his mouth like a purr. Foreign and thick in accent, but the tone—the warmth in his voice—made his heart jump.

Nansich blinked, trying to keep his voice from cracking. "Is that... is that your word for ’delicious’?"

Zia nodded slowly. "Flik’tah..."

He chuckled under his breath, still shaken. He had no idea how something so small could make his whole arm tingle. "Well, yeah. It is flik’tah. You got that right."

He met Zia’s eyes again. Golden. Bright. So focused on him. They weren’t threatening anymore—they hadn’t been for a while—but now they looked... soft. Like he was looking at something precious.

"Are you always this intense?" he muttered, laughing awkwardly.

Zia didn’t respond, but a small expression tugged at the corner of his lips. Something between a smirk and curiosity. A flicker of emotion passed over his features that almost looked... bashful.

"I guess I should start getting used to you doing weird shit," Nansich murmured, dipping another finger into the jam. "You’re not really from around here, after all."

He hesitated this time, holding it up again.

Zia leaned forward more slowly this time. His lips brushed against Nansich’s knuckle before taking the finger into his mouth. This time, Nansich didn’t even pretend to be composed.

He inhaled sharply.

Zia’s tongue moved gently, again licking the jam away—but this time, he lingered. His mouth stayed around the finger a beat longer. Just long enough to feel deliberate.

Nansich stared at him. At the way his lips looked when they closed around his skin. At how close their faces were now.

"Okay, wow," he whispered, blinking fast. "You really... you really like jam."

Zia pulled back slowly, then softly spoke again. "G’orenzia."

The word was low and full of something warm—like reverence. It sounded close to what he’d said earlier, when Nansich had asked his name.

He pointed lightly to his own chest. "Zia," he said with a small nod. Then his eyes drifted over Nansich’s face again—lingering on his lips, on his blush, on his still-trembling hand—and he murmured, softer this time, "G’orenzia."

Nansich’s breath hitched.

His voice was barely audible when he said, "What does that one mean...?"

Zei pointed to him with a small smile on his face. "G’orenzia."

"it... its not your name is it...."

Zia looked at him like he was looking through him.

It didn’t need translating.

Not really.

Because Nansich already felt it in his chest.

Like he’d been called beautiful by someone who didn’t even have words to say.

G’orenzia.

He didn’t know what to do with that.

One single word made his chest feel like it had turned to jelly.

"I, uh..." He rubbed his palms against his pants, trying to clear off the sticky sweetness, but it didn’t help much. With an awkward cough, he stepped to the corner, found the small basin of water they’d been using to rinse tools and hands, and started washing up properly. He kept his back turned, taking slow breaths.

The cool water helped. freewēbnoveℓ.com

Maybe.

He didn’t glance back until he was drying his hands on his shirt, eyes flicking toward Zia again. The man hadn’t moved. He was still standing there, watching him with the same unreadable softness in his expression.

Nansich cleared his throat again and walked over to the hay pile in the far corner, the one they’d layered with a few spare blankets and a half-torn tarp for insulation. The barn was still chilly at night, and after everything that had happened—the chase, the fear, the goddamn chicken rescue—he felt bone-deep tired.

He flopped down onto the hay with a sigh and curled onto his side.

He just needed sleep.

A moment later, he heard quiet footsteps approaching behind him. The soft rustle of hay being shifted.

Then he felt it.

Zia lay down right behind him—close. So close his warmth immediately pressed against Nansich’s back. Before he could say a word, he felt arms slowly, gently wrap around his waist. A careful pull that drew him into the man’s chest.

His heart skipped.

"Hey..." Nansich whispered, his voice small, muffled into the hay. "You... you don’t have to sleep right up against me. There’s room, you know. You can take your own space..."

He waited for a response, but none came.

Zia didn’t even twitch.

He just tucked his face lightly into the crook of Nansich’s shoulder, breath warm against his skin, arms gently but firmly holding him in place. And then... nothing. The man’s breathing evened out, slow and steady.

He’d fallen asleep.

Just like that.

Nansich lay there, wide-eyed, unsure of what to do. Every nerve in his body was aware of the solid warmth behind him. The steady rhythm of a heartbeat he could almost feel through the thin layers of their clothes. He could feel the weight of Zia’s arm across his stomach, the way his long legs curled up behind him.

"Okay," Nansich whispered to himself, barely audible. "I guess this is happening."