He ignores the words spilling over her lips as he stirs the food simmering slowly on the stove, turning away from her tone of voice and the look she's giving him, which he can't see, but he knows because he's been the subject of that look so many times before.
She looks at him with those eyes, those piercing green eyes, and when she stares him down like that he thinks they're the ugliest shade he's ever seen and his hands clench and he remembers why he shouldn't cross the room and close her eyes the way he really wants too.
He has to remember—Bai. Bai.
So he stirs the food and when it's done, he brings it to her and she winces as it burns her tongue, and then those eyes close just as he's wanted, and he has to not think about how much more satisfying his way would be—because he loves her, or maybe just what she's going to bring to him.
Hei knows it's useless to think about which of those that he really cares about, because once he finds out the answer he'll be stuck in places he doesn't want to be. So he feeds her and maybe when she smiles at him, he's imagining that bit of warmth that rushes through him, but it's not worth thinking about.
He wonders sometimes if she really does care about him, and if she thinks he really does care about her. But thinking about those things, it's not in his best interest.
It's not until when her hand drops off his face for the last time that he finally realizes how he had know what he really cared about all along. Because in that moment, he's not thinking about how he'll have to find another way to get to Bai—
He's thinking that he'd like to taste that food with her one last time.
But she was never in his best interest either way.