An Old Sweet Story About Rebirth

Everything in Tyler’s vision blurred to black, again and again.
But even through the haze, he could feel it — the instant he lost his footing, Shane had caught him. Held him tight, arms locked around him like steel.

He could hear Shane’s voice, too — calling his name, over and over. Urgent. Frantic. Asking what was wrong, saying he was taking him to the hospital, now.
The hospital?
No.

Hospitals were expensive.
Tyler couldn’t open his eyes. His breath came in shallow gulps, uneven and ragged, but he still tried to shake his head, weakly murmuring:
“Don’t go… Don’t need the hospital…”

“It’s just low blood sugar… it’ll pass…”
Apparently, those three words — low blood sugar — were enough to convince Shane.
Tyler felt himself being lifted — cradled, his legs dangling. Shane carried him swiftly into the living room and laid him gently down on the long couch.

Tyler tried to sit up on his own. He couldn’t.
His limbs felt hollow, boneless. Nothing responded.
A couple minutes passed in silence.
Then Shane returned and sat beside him, helping him sit up and lean against his chest. He pressed the edge of a warm ceramic bowl to Tyler’s lips.

“Drink.”
Eyes still shut, Tyler obediently swallowed the sugar water in greedy gulps.
Just like always, it worked.

Within moments, the cold sweat was gone. The black spots faded. His heart stopped pounding.
That’s when he realized — he was still leaning against Shane’s chest.
He immediately stiffened, trying to pull away, trying to get to his feet.

But Shane snapped — sharp and stern — “What do you think you’re doing?”
Tyler froze. “...Making breakfast,” he said softly.
Uncle Liu had mentioned yesterday that they could request a housekeeper through the building to handle meals and chores, that Tyler didn’t have to do everything himself anymore.
But Tyler wasn’t used to being taken care of. He’d turned it down without hesitation.

He certainly hadn’t expected this: first night in the new place, and he’d already passed out from staying up late reading manga and trying to make breakfast too early.
And Shane had walked in at exactly the wrong moment.
Shane said, “Stay where you are. I brought breakfast. You and Emily can eat together in a bit.”

Tyler blinked. “You brought breakfast?”
Wasn’t Shane supposed to be busy? What was he {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} doing showing up first thing in the morning with food?
Shane didn’t answer. Instead, he asked, “Has this happened before? The low blood sugar.”

Tyler lowered his head. “A little… Not serious.”
“I just… I got caught up in the manga. Lost track of time…”
The more he spoke, the smaller his voice became.

The contract had been clear — maintain good physical health was one of the basic terms. And here he was, crashing from blood sugar after binge-reading comics all night.
Shane was quiet for a moment, then said, low and steady, “You need to tell me when something like this happens.”
“And what do you mean, ‘lost track of time’?”

Tyler swallowed.
Was it just his imagination… or did Shane sound angry?
 

****
And Shane was angry.
But not at Tyler.

At himself.
Angry for giving Tyler a whole room full of manga at once, instead of thinking to introduce them slowly, a few at a time.
He knew Tyler would love them — of course he would. And yet he’d tossed him into the middle of it like a squirrel into a sack of walnuts. No wonder the kid had gorged himself until he nearly passed out.

And more than that… he was angry that, in their previous life, he’d never realized Tyler had low blood sugar.
That thought stung the most.
The first time Shane ever heard of Tyler — in any life — was through his cousin, Lin Zhiyao.

It had been a chaotic afternoon. Lin Zhiyao, whose default setting was somewhere between melodramatic and outright mystical, had called out of the blue, bubbling with excitement.
She claimed she’d met a young man — twenty-something, heartbreakingly beautiful, soft-spoken, magnetic in a way that hit Shane’s “type” dead center.
Shane stared at the caller ID and replied dryly, “Do you have a point, or can I hang up now?”

“You’re going to be an uncle, and that’s how you talk to a pregnant woman?” Zhiyao snapped.
“…What?”
She took advantage of his confusion to launch into a breathless explanation: how she’d gone out for a morning run, how she’d suddenly felt dizzy and weak and couldn’t get up from the sidewalk.

She’d never experienced low blood sugar before — had no idea it was pregnancy-related — and she’d panicked. Badly.
And then, out of nowhere, a young man had approached her, handed her a sports drink, and stayed with her until she could stand again, until her hands stopped shaking and she could call someone to take her to the hospital.
“He had the face of an angel,” she insisted. “And a voice like water — cool, clear, absolutely gorgeous.”

But she hadn’t gotten his name. Hadn’t even had the chance to ask.
Shane had sighed. “Congratulations. Get some rest.”
“No, listen to me,” she shouted. “I swear — the moment you see this guy, you’re going to get it. You’ll fall head over heels. It’ll be love at first sight, you’ll change your whole personality, I’m not kidding—”

“I don’t believe in love at first sight,” Shane muttered, and hung up.
That had been the first time he’d heard Tyler’s name.
And now, looking back, it all made sense — of course Tyler had recognized her symptoms. He’d been through it himself. That’s why he knew what to do.

So why… in all that time they spent together before, had Shane never noticed?
Why had he been so careless?
Sighing, he stepped into the kitchen and began to unpack the breakfast he’d brought, warming it on the stove.

Thank god he’d found out now.
This time — this life — he was going to do it right.
He would take care of this tiny, overworked, sleep-deprived squirrel until he was fed, rested, and never again undone by hunger or exhaustion.

He would make sure Tyler never had to ask to be looked after again.
 
****

Tyler sat at the table, staring blankly at the breakfast in front of him.
Delicate steam curled from a bamboo basket of soup dumplings, paired with a still-warm bottle of soy milk — rich and fragrant.
It was the simplest kind of breakfast. Comfort food.

Why had Shane brought this over himself, so early in the morning?
Emily, of course, had no such doubts. She gave an excited “Wow!” and eagerly grabbed a pair of chopsticks. She plucked a dumpling from the basket and dropped it into Tyler’s plate.
“Come on, eat up!”
Tyler hadn’t moved yet, but Emily had already taken a big bite. “Mmm… so good!”

Halfway through chewing, her eyes lit up in surprise.
“This taste… I think I’ve had it before!”
Had it before?
Tyler picked up a dumpling, took a bite.

Savory, rich — and something else. A clean, aromatic undertone.
A certain piney fragrance had soaked through the dough, infusing the meat inside with something unmistakable…
He flipped the dumpling over.
Yes — faint vertical marks along the bottom.

Steam marks, left by pine needles used instead of cloth.
Emily was right. They had had these before.
Six years ago. A summer afternoon.

Their mom had taken them to the amusement park on the far side of Greenville. It had been a rare treat, a perfect day. When they left the park, both kids were starving — stomachs rumbling, whining for food.
So their mom had walked them to a tiny roadside stall nearby. A hole-in-the-wall dumpling shop run out of a rickety building under an old arcade awning.
The dumplings there — steamed over pine needles instead of cloth — had smelled just like this.

Emily had eaten an entire basket herself. Tyler and their mom had shared two more. Each of them had gulped down a bowl of fresh-ground soy milk.
Afterward, grinning and wiping the grease from their mouths with the backs of their hands, they’d declared them the best dumplings in the world.
That crisp, unforgettable taste. The smell of pine and steam and summer.

That memory — that evening of giggles and laughter — Tyler had never forgotten.
He looked down again at the dumplings on his plate.
The flavor was exactly the same.

But that old shop… it had been across town, near the amusement park.
Almost halfway across Greenville from here.
And it wasn’t fancy. Not the kind of place someone like Shane — someone with black sedans and tailored suits — would ever be caught near.
Just as the thought crossed his mind, Shane — now sitting casually at the kitchen bar, sipping soda from the fridge — said offhandedly:

“I was out for a morning run. Passed a dumpling place near the complex. Figured you two hadn’t eaten, so I grabbed some.”
Ah.
So pine-needle dumplings weren’t exclusive to that one little shop, after all.

Emily had already polished off half a basket. She put her chopsticks down, stood up, and offered Shane a clear, cheerful:
“Thanks! It was really good.”
Then she carried her bowl and chopsticks to the sink, washed them neatly, and darted back to her room with Alice in Wonderland under her arm.
Just like that, the wide-open kitchen felt quiet again.
Just Shane and Tyler now.

Morning light streamed through the windows, casting soft gold on the countertops. The sky outside was impossibly blue — almost transparent — with gentle, feathery clouds drifting by.
Tyler stared at the sky for a few moments before putting down his chopsticks. He made an effort to sound casual, like Emily had:
“…Thanks.”
Shane replied evenly, “Don’t mention it. I said — I just picked it up on the way.”

Tyler bit his lip. His voice dropped a little:
“I meant… for the sugar water this morning.”
Shane gave a quiet “Mm.”
But even in that small sound, Tyler could hear something tight. Irritated.

He hesitated, then finally let the words he’d been holding back tumble out:
“And… sorry.”
Shane looked up, faintly surprised.
“Why are you apologizing?”

Tyler’s fingers slipped beneath the table, tugging at the hem of his T-shirt.
“I was supposed to take care of my health. It’s in the agreement.”
“You even said yesterday not to get too carried away…”

“But I…” His voice grew softer with each word. “I couldn’t stop myself…”
Tyler wasn’t the type to bow his head easily.
But this time, he did feel like he’d genuinely messed up.
By the end of it, he was barely whispering:
“I… I didn’t break the contract, did I?”

His head drooped.
Sunlight from the kitchen window landed on the back of his neck — summer sunlight, warm and kind.
That pale nape, smooth and slender in the morning light.
Above it, the soft crown of short, clean hair.
Below, the sharp line of a back that was too thin, too bony.

Shane didn’t speak for a long time.
Eventually, he exhaled.
“Not quite a breach.”
“But you are supposed to stay in character. Always.”

“If you’re passed out on the floor, people are just going to say I can’t even take care of my own boyfriend.”
He stood up.
His voice shifted — firm, no room for argument.

“From now on, your meals will be handled by a professional cook.”
“This — you don’t get to say no to.”