Since That Evening
[📘 Content Warning:
This story contains Boys’ Love (BL) themes. Reader discretion is advised. Please read the disclaimers mentioned in the Instagram post.]
It felt good to laugh, even just a little.
The sound of the river lapping against the edge below them filled the space between breaths.
A bicycle bell rang faintly in the distance, followed by the crunch of gravel as someone jogged past.
“You always do that.”
Zhan said after a while, quieter now.
“Do what?”
“Make me feel lighter. Even when everything’s a mess.”
Yibo didn’t answer immediately.
He looked out across the water, the reflection of the streetlights rippling like molten gold.
Then he leaned back on his palms, eyes following a single paper lantern floating lazily near the far bank.
“You carry too much on your own, Zhan-ge.”
The words were simple.
Not dramatic, not heavy—just true.
Zhan didn’t respond, but his silence said enough.
He tilted his head back, eyes closed for a moment, letting the breeze move through his hair.
His mind was buzzing with too many things—deadlines, revisions, the uncomfortable energy Su Mian brought into the bookstore.
But here, in this sliver of calm with Yibo beside him, it all quieted.
The weight didn’t disappear, but it shifted.
Just enough to breathe.
“I’m trying.”
Zhan murmured.
“I thought I could handle everything, like always. But this project… it’s bigger than I thought. And she—Su Mian—she’s making things complicated in ways I didn’t sign up for.”
Yibo’s voice came steady, like it always did when Zhan was unravelling.
“Then stop pretending you have to do it alone. Delegate what you can.”
“And if she starts pushing boundaries, I’ll be around more. Subtle backup.”
Zhan smiled, eyes still closed.
“You’re the least subtle person I know.”
Yibo smirked.
“True. But I’m loyal.”
For a moment, nothing moved.
Zhan finally opened his eyes, glancing sideways.
“You don’t have to do all this Yibo.”
“I know.”
Yibo looked at him.
“Doesn’t mean I won’t.”
Zhan stared at him for a long second, the words caught in his throat.
His chest ached—not painfully, but with that soft pressure that builds when something inside you shifts without asking permission.
“…Let’s stay a little longer.”
He said finally.
Yibo nodded, kicking his legs out, the toe of his shoe skimming a stray pebble into the dark.
They’d been sitting in comfortable silence for a while.
The soft hush of the river and the occasional clink of distant bicycle chains filling the space between them.
The lights had dimmed further now, painting their surroundings in amber and shadow, and the breeze had cooled just enough to make Zhan tuck his hands into his sleeves.
Yibo glanced sideways at Zhan, who was quietly staring at the river, his expression unreadable.
He sat like that for a moment, as if something was on his mind, before shifting slightly beside Zhan and resting his arms on his knees.
“Zhan-ge…”
He said, voice low.
“Why do you feel uncomfortable around Su Mian?”
Zhan blinked at the question, caught off guard.
He didn’t answer right away, gaze fixed on the inky water.
Yibo’s eyes lingered on him, saying nothing.
Zhan finally exhaled.
“I… I don’t really know. It’s not something I can easily name. She’s not rude, she doesn’t do anything… extreme. But something about the way she looks at me, talks to me—it’s just…”
He paused, searching for the right word.
“It’s disturbing, I guess. Or maybe just… irritating. There’s this tension, like she wants something I can’t give. And I don’t know how to deal with it.”
Yibo nodded slowly.
“So… you don’t like her?”
Zhan shook his head.
“I don’t dislike her. She’s fine. But liking someone like that… it never comes naturally to me.”
He hesitated, then smiled faintly, his voice quieter now.
“Ma always asks why I never bring home a girl, why I don’t go on dates. Every year, same question, same concern. And I just… I never had any interest. Never felt the pull, you know?”
Yibo didn’t speak.
He watched Zhan quietly, something unreadable flickering in his gaze.
He was still, too still.
Zhan glanced at him, feeling suddenly vulnerable.
“And if I’ve never felt that—never even wanted to try—then how can I see a girl the way people expect me to?”
The words lingered in the air like breath on a mirror, fogging the space between them.
Yibo’s gaze hadn’t left Zhan once.
His eyes were soft, unreadable, but steady—watchful, as if he’d waited a long time to hear this.
Zhan eventually turned, nudged him lightly.
“What about you? You tell me—why don’t you have a girlfriend yet, huh?”
That was when Yibo looked away.
For the first time that night, he broke eye contact.
A beat passed before he answered, voice even but quiet.
“I’m not interested in girls, Zhan-ge.”
Zhan blinked.
Then blinked again.
And then—
He let out a short, startled laugh.
“Wait, what? If you’re not interested in girls, then what—don’t tell me you’re into boys or something?”
He grinned, expecting a quip, a roll of the eyes, a shove on the shoulder from Yibo.
But none came.
Instead, Yibo turned to him, slowly, and looked straight at him.
His gaze held Zhan for a moment, heavy with things unsaid.
His expression was completely serious.
Calm. Clear.
And suddenly, Zhan’s laugh died in his throat.
His smile faded, eyes darting nervously between Yibo’s.
He knew that look.
It wasn’t a joke.
It wasn’t a tease.
It was the kind of silence that said more than words ever could.
Zhan froze.
The weight of Yibo’s gaze pressed against him, and Zhan had to look away, his chest tightening.
Then, Yibo spoke—quiet, steady, but unmistakably sharp beneath the calm.
“Is that a crime, ge?”
There was no humor in Yibo’s eyes now.
Just a raw honesty, laid bare under the streetlights.
His voice hadn’t been loud, but it landed like a stone in Zhan’s chest.
Zhan froze.
“I… I didn’t mean to make fun of you.”
He murmured, voice unsteady.
“I didn’t know, Yibo. I swear, I didn’t know.”
Yibo let out a quiet breath—half sigh, half something heavier.
He looked down at his hands.
“It’s okay Zhan-ge.”
He said after a moment.
“I guess… I’m just a little sad that… you still didn’t get it.”
Zhan’s heart thudded in his ears.
He turned slowly to look at Yibo again—but Yibo wasn’t looking back anymore.
His face was unreadable now, closed off in a way Zhan hadn’t seen before.
Like a door quietly pulled shut.
The silence between them now was different.
Heavier. Not like before.
“I’m sorry.”
Zhan said again, this time softer, rawer.
Yibo didn’t answer.
He stayed quiet, eyes fixed ahead, but a strange ache bloomed in his chest—sharp, like splinters.
And somehow, hearing those two words from Zhan only made it hurt more.
The river beside them kept moving, silent and constant.
And for the first time, Zhan couldn’t hear it.
They sat like that until the lights along the path dimmed one by one and the world quieted even more.
Not many words were said after that—but none were really needed.
———————————————
It was a lazy Sunday morning when Zhan finally rolled out of bed, sunlight spilling through the curtains in long golden streaks.
But even the warmth of the morning couldn’t quite chase away the heaviness clinging to him.
His thoughts wandered back to the riverbank—Yibo’s silence, the way he’d shut down.
He hadn’t meant to hurt him.
But today… maybe he could try to make up for it.
He rubbed his eyes and reached for his phone, tapping Yibo’s contact and hitting ‘call’ before even brushing his hair.
“Hello?”
Yibo’s voice came through, low and slightly groggy.
Zhan grinned.
“Still in bed?”
A pause.
“No.”
Zhan laughed.
“Liar. Anyway, get up. I want you to come over today. You’re free, right? Not going to the garage lately with exams and all…”
There was a silence, then a hesitant reply.
“You want me to come to your house?”
“Yeah. My parents would love to meet you.”
Zhan said, sitting up and pushing the blanket off.
“And I’ll come pick you up from the station, don’t worry.”
Yibo hesitated.
Then said.
“Alright… I’ll come by evening.”
“Good. I’ll be there.”
Zhan smiled, already feeling a little lighter.
He freshen up and padded into the kitchen, where his mother Liu Fang was slicing vegetables.
“Ma…”
He began, grabbing an apple from the counter.
“I invited Yibo over today. He’s coming in the evening.”
Liu Fang turned with a warm smile.
“Oh? That’s wonderful. It’s about time he visited.”
From behind his newspaper, Xiao Guoqiang peered over the top and nodded.
“I’ll go get some snacks and cookies for the evening tea. What does he like? Sweet or spicy?”
“Both.”
Zhan chuckled.
“But don’t go overboard, Ba.”
“Don’t worry.”
Xiao Guoqiang said with a huff, already getting up to grab his keys.
Just then, Yue came bouncing in from the hallway, holding her phone.
Zhan raised an eyebrow at her.
“And you—behave. Don’t embarrass me in front of my friend.”
Yue made an exaggerated face.
“Oh come on, I’m always charming. He should be honored to meet me.”
“Sure.”
Zhan said dryly, biting into his apple.
“Just don’t interrogate him like you do with my college friends.”
“I make no promises.”
She replied with a mischievous wink.
————————————————–
By early evening, Zhan revved up his father’s old scooter and zipped through the light traffic to the metro station.
He spotted Yibo waiting under one of the soft orange streetlamps.
Wearing a loose gray t-shirt, faded jeans, and worn-out sneakers that somehow still looked effortlessly cool on him.
“Hey.”
Zhan said, pulling up beside him.
Yibo gave a small smile.
“Nice ride.”
“Get on.”
Zhan said with a grin.
“Don’t make my family wait.”
When they arrived at the house, Yibo was a little stiff at first, but the warmth of Zhan’s home quickly softened him.
Liu Fang met him at the door with a smile that could melt stone.
“You must be Yibo.”
She said, ushering him in.
“We’ve heard so much about you.”
Yibo bowed politely.
“Thank you for having me, Auntie.”
Xiao Guoqiang shook his hand with a firm grip.
“Make yourself at home, son.”
And Yue popped up behind them, grinning.
“You’re Bo-ge, right? I’m Xiao Yue. Welcome to the madhouse.”
Yibo blinked at the sudden nickname but smiled.
“Nice to meet you… Yue.”
“Oh! he’s polite and cute.”
Yue teased, elbowing Zhan as he groaned.
They all sat down for tea and snacks in the living room—store-bought butter cookies, a plate of warm roasted peanuts, and Liu Fang’s homemade almond cake.
The smell of oolong tea filled the room as Zhan poured it into delicate porcelain cups.
Zhan’s parents asked all the usual questions: his family, his studies, how he met Zhan.
And Yibo, as always, was respectful and honest.
It didn’t take long for them to warm up to him completely.
Later, Zhan took him to his room.
It was exactly what Yibo expected—neat, filled with rows of books.
Stacks of sketchbooks, colorful canvases leaning against the wall.
And tiny sticky notes marking ideas pinned to a corkboard.
“You live in a bookstore and still hoard this many books.”
Yibo muttered, scanning the titles.
Zhan shrugged.
“There’s no such thing as too many books. They make the room feel less lonely.”
Yibo smiled, and something about that quiet moment in the room—so personal, so intimate—made it stick in his chest.
—————————————————
By nightfall, Zhan dropped Yibo back at the metro station.
They stood near the platform, the station lights casting a white-yellow glow over them.
Zhan looked at Yibo for a long moment, then quietly said.
“Yibo…”
Yibo turned to him, eyebrows lifting slightly.
“Yeah?”
His tone was calm, open—like he already knew something was coming.
Zhan hesitated, eyes flicking down for a second.
“I… I’ve been meaning to say this. I’m really sorry for what happened that evening—at the river.”
He swallowed.
“I didn’t mean to make fun of you or hurt you in any way. I just… I didn’t realize, and I’ve been feeling awful since.”
There was a short pause.
Then Yibo gave a small smile, soft but certain.
“Ge, we already talked about it, didn’t we?”
He looked at Zhan, voice steady.
“It’s okay. I knew it wasn’t intentional. I let it go that day.”
Zhan met his eyes, searching for any trace of lingering hurt, but found only calm.
He exhaled, the tension easing from his shoulders.
“Okay…”
He said quietly, nodding with a faint smile.
“By the way…”
Zhan said, leaning against the railing.
“Su Mian called twice today.”
Yibo looked at him, waiting.
“I didn’t pick up.”
Zhan added.
“I’m sure it wasn’t about the bookstore. She just wants to talk. For no reason.”
He sighed, a flicker of irritation in his voice.
“It’s becoming annoying—texts at odd hours, weekend calls… like she doesn’t understand boundaries.”
Yibo didn’t say anything but something in him recoiled, his brows drawing together slightly—just enough for Zhan to know he’d heard him.
He glanced at the incoming train, then back at him.
“Thanks for today, ge.”
Zhan smiled a little more now.
“Thanks for coming.”
Zhan pushed his hands into his pockets.
“Anyway. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
“Yeah.”
Yibo nodded, stepping toward the door as the train slowed to a halt.
“Goodnight, Zhan-ge.”
“Goodnight. Text me once you reach home.”
Zhan said, smiling softly.
Yibo gave a small nod, his eyes lingering on Zhan.
“I will.”
Then he turned and stepped onto the train.
Zhan watched him go, and for the first time since that evening by the river, something in his chest loosened.
A quiet breath escaped his lips.
The heaviness from that day began to lift, and the unspoken tension between them finally seemed to melt away.
Yibo had smiled—and somehow, that was enough for Zhan.
And as the train rolled forward, Yibo sat by the window, arms folded, watching the dark blur of the city slip by.
But his thoughts weren’t on the view.
They were on her.
Su Mian.
Something about her didn’t sit right.
And it wasn’t just about jealousy, or discomfort—it was about Zhan.
The way he tensed when she looked at him.
The way his voice changed when he spoke about her.
It was subtle, but Yibo could feel it.
Zhan didn’t feel safe around her.
And that was enough.
He tapped his fingers against his knee, thinking.
This isn’t good.
He already sensed it.
“I need to do something… before she crosses a line.”
[To be continued…]
The Red Ribbon 