The Missing Piece
[📘 Content Warning:
This story contains Boys’ Love (BL) themes. Reader discretion is advised. Please read the disclaimers mentioned in the Instagram post.]
The sky had turned a brooding shade of steel blue, heavy clouds bunching up over the slow, dark current of the river.
The air had that hushed stillness before a rain… cool, quiet, and pressing.
It was almost 8 p.m.
Zhan and Yibo had left the restaurant and found their way to their usual spot by the river, a small ledge of stone tucked near a half-broken lamppost.
Not many people were around; the breeze had picked up and carried the scent of wet earth, distant rain, and riverweed.
But none of that mattered.
They had too much to say – conversations held back, thoughts for each other buried for weeks.
They talked. And talked.
About the mess, about the bookstore and college, about everything that had fallen apart and now slowly, painfully, was being put back together.
Laughter came in short, quiet bursts.
Pauses came with sighs that felt years old.
Time passed like water.
They didn’t notice.
Then Yibo glanced up at the sky.
“It’s gonna rain, I think.”
Zhan leaned back slightly, watching a faint flash of lightning blink across the far horizon.
“Feels like it.”
He said.
“I want something warm.”
“Hmm?”
Yibo turned his head.
“Hot chocolate. And fries. Crispy ones.”
Yibo grinned, pushing himself up from the ledge.
“Got it. One heart-healing combo coming up. I’ll grab some for myself too.”
Zhan nodded with a smile as Yibo dropped his phone and bag beside him before heading back toward the restaurant.
Zhan stayed seated, pulling his jacket tighter as the wind tugged at his hair.
The river shimmered under the faint lights from the opposite bank, dancing softly in shades of silver and ink.
Even at night, it looked beautiful… still, mysterious, like it held too many secrets in its depths.
He reached for his phone, thinking of playing some music.
Then his eyes drifted to the phone Yibo had left beside him.
A small smirk formed.
“Yibo always has better taste in music anyway.”
He picked it up, unlocked it without a thought as he already knew the passcode, and swiped through the folders.
Music. Videos. Downloads.
As he casually scrolled through the Music folder, something caught his eyes – a thumbnail.
Blank. Un-named.
Just a dull black square.
Curiosity tugged.
“Maybe a new MV?”
He thought and tapped it.
At first, the screen shook, blurry and chaotic as if someone had placed the phone down in a rush.
Muffled voices, faint movement.
Then the frame steadied.
Crooked, angled from somewhere low, like it was recording from a table.
The lighting was dim, golden, and familiar.
Then he saw it.
Two figures.
Tangled in half-shadow.
One of them shirtless.
The other pinned beneath.
Zhan froze… it was him!
Him. Shirtless. Straddling Yibo.
His hands wrapped tightly around Yibo’s wrists, pinning them above his head.
Then Zhan leaned in slightly, his lips moving, he was saying something, but the audio was too faint to catch.
Yibo was pinned beneath him, unmoving… just staring up at Zhan, eyes locked.
His expression unreadable… but intense.
He said something back, lips barely moving.
Then, without warning, Zhan closed the distance between them… and kissed him.
Hard. Desperate.
Yibo had tried, softly, to stop him at first… mumbling something against Zhan’s lips, tense and unsure… but then, slowly, his mouth softened, and he kissed back.
His lips moved back, tentatively, then hungrily.
Zhan in the video moved lower, kissing along Yibo’s neck, fingers curling under his T-shirt, spreading across his bare chest.
Then—
Zhan’s hand moving slowly, his fingertips grazing Yibo’s bare skin until it reached the waistband of his shorts.
With barely a breath, he slipped his hand under, trailing lower…
Zhan’s heart stopped!
His hand jerked back.
He slammed the phone down, breath catching in his throat.
He was huffing like someone had sucker-punched him.
And behind him, hurried footsteps came to a sudden stop.
Yibo stood there.
Tray in hand, carrying two steaming mugs and a paper boat of fries.
His chest rising and falling rapidly.
He was still catching his breath.
He had literally run back after realizing too late that he’d left his phone with Zhan while picking up their order.
But his feet had stopped moving the moment he caught sight of what Zhan was holding.
His phone.
In Zhan’s hand.
That video is playing.
His breath caught.
The tray in his hands trembled slightly, mugs clinking.
Yibo closed his eyes for a brief second, a flicker of helplessness crossing his face.
It was too late.
He hadn’t expected Zhan to find it.
Not so soon.
Not like this.
Not now.
Zhan didn’t notice Yibo standing behind him at first.
He was too frozen, too stunned, his eyes wide and locked on the screen.
His breath had quickened, lips slightly parted as if the air had turned too thick to swallow.
Yibo said nothing.
He couldn’t.
His throat had gone dry.
He took a step forward and slowly set the tray down beside them on the stone ledge, the soft clink of ceramic and crinkle of paper the only sounds between them.
Zhan didn’t look at him at first.
Then finally turned his head… face pale, eyes wide.
And in that moment, Yibo saw it all – the confusion, the betrayal, the fear.
Zhan’s voice was quiet but sharp, cut through the silence.
Low and unsteady.
“Wh… what did I just see, Yibo?”
His eyes searched Yibo’s face like he was staring at a stranger.
“And… and… why don’t I remember any of it?”
Yibo looked down, chest rising and falling, visibly trying to steady himself.
His hands trembled faintly, just once, before he shoved them into his jacket pockets.
He knew this moment would come.
But not like this.
Not under a gray sky, with the wind howling against them and Zhan’s voice breaking with the weight of what he’d just seen.
The rain hadn’t started yet… and the sky felt like it was holding its breath.
————————————-
The two cups of hot chocolate sat untouched on the bench.
The fries had gone limp, the paper boat growing damp beneath them.
Neither Zhan nor Yibo moved.
Zhan hadn’t looked up once.
He couldn’t.
His pulse was hammering too hard, his thoughts in a chaotic spin.
The image… the memory…refused to leave his mind.
That video. That moment. That kiss.
His fingers trembled as they tightened around the edge of the stone bench beneath him, knuckles pale.
Yibo sitting next to him, silent.
Finally, with a long sigh, Yibo’s voice broke through the thick, painful quiet.
“It happened the night of my birthday, ge.”
Zhan said nothing.
His breath was shallow.
He wasn’t even sure he was breathing right.
Yibo turned slightly toward him… slow, cautious.
“You were high… not just on drinks. That white pill Lele gave you… you took it, remember?”
The memory struck Zhan like a slap… sharp, sudden.
That stupid pill.
That moment in the restaurant.
He’d laughed it off, popped it onto his tongue without a second thought.
His voice came out hoarse.
“I don’t remember anything from that night. After the pill… it’s all blank.”
Yibo nodded slowly.
“I know.”
A beat passed.
Zhan still didn’t look at him.
Then Yibo exhaled and began to speak softly and carefully, as if unfolding a truth he’d kept buried too long.
And just like that, the story pulled them back into that night.
[Flashback: Yibo’s Birthday Night]
Yibo had just pulled the blanket over Zhan’s shoulders when he finally asleep.
He looked peaceful then: soft features slack in sleep, lips parted just slightly.
Yibo chuckled quietly to himself and padded into the bathroom to change.
He returned in a plain black T-shirt and shorts, rubbing his towel-damp hair.
But when he walked out, Zhan was no longer asleep.
He was sitting up, eyes half-lidded, humming some out-of-tune melody.
“Yiboooo…”
He mumbled, giggling at nothing in particular.
Yibo grinned.
“Zhan-ge, what the hell are you doing?”
“You — hic — look like… like a piglet.”
Zhan said, slurring.
Yibo picked up his phone, unlocked it, started recording, and walked toward the bed.
“Oh, I have to show you this tomorrow. I want to see your face when I play this.”
He barely sat down before Zhan lunged forward.
“Yibo! Nooo… give it to me!”
Yibo laughed as they struggled over the phone, the camera bouncing wildly in his hand.
Zhan pinned him down with shocking strength, straddling his waist and gripping his wrists tightly above his head.
The phone slipped from Yibo’s hand and landed on the bedside table, still recording.
But tilted just enough to catch the scene unfolding.
Zhan’s face was only inches away, their noses almost touching, breath mingling in the space between them.
Their laughs faded quietly, completely, as their eyes locked.
Something deeper settled between them.
Heavy. Unspoken. Magnetic.
“Zhan-ge…”
Yibo’s voice came out a little breathless, nervousness flickering across his face.
“I… I think… maybe you should sleep now.”
But Zhan didn’t move.
His gaze dropped to Yibo’s mouth.
Zhan’s voice came out lower, huskier.
Touched by alcohol, yes… but also by something deeper.
Something raw.
He looked into Yibo’s eyes, a faint smile playing on his lips.
“You know… I once dreamed I kissed you. Right by the riverside.”
Yibo blinked, eyes wide.
“Wh-What…? Ge…”
But he didn’t get to finish.
Zhan leaned in, slow and deliberate, and pressed their lips together.
Not soft. Not unsure.
But deep. Certain.
Like a dream finally catching up to reality.
Yibo froze, his body stiff with shock.
“Zha… Zhan-ge… you’re not in your senses.”
His breath hitched between words, lips brushing but never quite pulling away.
“This… isn’t right… not like this.”
Another kiss slipped between the words.
“N-not when you don’t… don’t even know what you’re doing.”
But Zhan kissed him again — harder, needier.
As if Yibo’s words never reached him… or he simply didn’t want to hear them…. or he just didn’t care.
Yibo tried to stop him again, but the effort was weak.
Half-hearted, trembling.
“God, ge… stop. Please… if you keep doing this, I… I won’t be able to stop myself.”
He was breathless.
Then Zhan’s voice came, low and rough.
“Then don’t hold back… and don’t stop me.”
And something in Yibo snapped.
He stopped thinking.
Stopped resisting.
He pulled his wrists free from Zhan’s grip — not to push him away, but to pull him closer.
He grabbed Zhan’s face, dragged him closer, and kissed him back… hungry, breathless, like he’d been holding it in for far too long.
Then Zhan’s mouth traveled to Yibo’s neck.
His hands slid beneath Yibo’s tee, skimming over warm skin, then drifted lower, to the waistband of his shorts.
Everything after that blurred.
There were no more words.
No second thoughts.
Only want. Only heat.
[Back to the Present]
Yibo sighed.
His shoulders slumped, the weight of the memory pressing down on him.
“From one kiss to the next… things got out of control. Neither of us stopped. Maybe I didn’t want to. Maybe you couldn’t.”
Zhan hadn’t moved an inch.
He closed his eyes for a moment.
Just one moment.
As if trying to make sense of it.
As if everything inside him had gone still.
His fingers still clutched the bench like it was the only thing anchoring him to earth.
“I knew… I should’ve stopped.”
Yibo went on.
“But that night, Zhan-ge… I wanted it. And you… maybe you did too. Not with your mind, maybe. But something in you did. I saw it.”
His voice broke slightly, then steadied.
“The next morning, you didn’t remember a thing. I thought you were joking at first, but then I saw your face. It wasn’t there. Not even a trace.”
Zhan finally blinked, throat tight.
“Then why didn’t you tell me?”
Yibo looked at him.
“Because I can remind you of something you forgot. But I can’t bring back something that never even formed in your memory. It felt wrong, like forcing a ghost on you.”
He swallowed hard.
“And later, in college, even Lele and Chen told me that pill you took… it messes with your memory. You can talk, act, even laugh like normal, but you won’t remember a damn thing after. Not a single word.”
He took a breath, slow and heavy.
“Still… I hoped. I kept hoping maybe some part of it would come back to you. Some glimpse. But it never did. And I… I couldn’t forget. Not even a second.”
Zhan’s eyes stared straight ahead, wide and hollow.
He didn’t even know what he was feeling.
He wasn’t angry.
He wasn’t heartbroken.
It was something deeper.
A numb ache that left him weightless.
Yibo continued, quieter now.
“I swear, I deleted that video the same day I realized it had recorded on my phone. But a few days ago, I went to my friend’s phone repair shop and had it recovered.”
“Just in case. Because if Su Mian denied everything, that video was my last card. To prove that you’re not into her. That what she’s saying is a lie.”
Zhan slowly turned his head.
“Is that why you asked me that day… why I don’t like her? Su Mian?”
Yibo gave a faint, broken smile.
“Yeah. And when I told you I wasn’t into girls, you laughed. I was trying to tell you something. I was trying to make you see it too, ge.”
Zhan opened his mouth.
Then closed it.
Zhan’s voice was quiet, but it cut through the silence.
“So you remembered… all of it?”
His eyes searched Yibo’s face.
“Every time you saw me, talked to me… you carried this?”
Yibo didn’t look at him.
He nodded slowly, his gaze fixed on the river in front of them.
“It’s not that I didn’t try to forget, ge… but it’s not easy.”
Zhan didn’t respond.
The air between them felt heavier with every breath.
Yibo swallowed hard.
“Still… I gathered the courage to tell you.”
“I was just waiting for my exams to get over. I was going to tell you.”
His voice cracked slightly.
“But you know what happened after that.”
Zhan took a long breath, as if trying to shield himself from the weight of it.
He didn’t say a word.
It was too much.
Yibo hesitated, his voice softer now.
“And now… one more person knows.”
Zhan turned to him, eyes narrowing slightly.
“Who?”
Yibo’s jaw tightened.
“Su Mian.”
Zhan’s brows drew together.
“What? How?”
Yibo let out a bitter breath.
“I think… you said something that night when you were drugged. At her place. It’s strange how you suddenly remember… but not when you were sober.”
He finally looked at Zhan, pain flickering in his eyes.
“She figured it out. Tried to use it against me. Threatened to tell you.”
A pause.
“But I handled it. Because if you were ever going to hear this… I wanted it to come from me. Not from anyone else.”
Zhan looked at him, voice low.
“So this is why you were so confident I didn’t… do anything that night with her? Even when I couldn’t remember a thing?”
Yibo gave a quiet nod.
“Yeah.”
Zhan asked again.
“That day at the platform… when you almost said something but suddenly stopped — was it this?”
Yibo nodded again.
Zhan’s thoughts stirred.
That’s why… the next day after that birthday night, he’d felt it.
Something off… something he couldn’t name.
There was a strange ache, a heaviness… like a memory etched into skin, even if the mind refused to hold it.
A feeling he couldn’t explain, only carry.
And now, it all made sense.
A long silence passed.
Then, barely a whisper, Zhan said.
“I think… I need to go.”
Yibo’s heart skipped.
“Are you angry?”
Zhan shook his head, eyes unreadable.
“No. I’m not. I just… I can’t… I need to leave.”
He hesitated, his voice softer now.
“Ge, it’s not like… something big happened that night. I mean… we didn’t…”
He trailed off, the words catching in his throat.
“It was just…”
He looked away, jaw clenched, unable to finish.
Zhan looked at him, but said nothing.
His gaze lingered for a moment, then dropped — like he wanted to look at Yibo but couldn’t quite hold it.
Zhan stood up, brushing invisible dust from his clothes.
“Ge, let me drop you.”
“No. I’m good… I’ll go.”
He didn’t look at Yibo.
Not once.
And just like that, he walked away… his steps steady but distant, like his soul was lagging behind.
No smile. No goodbye.
Just… absence.
Two untouched cups sat on the bench, turned cold.
Yibo didn’t move.
Didn’t call out.
He just stood there, staring at the empty space beside him.
Trying to figure out if this silence meant an ending… or a beginning.
And then, like a bruise pressed too hard, her voice echoed in his mind again…
Sharp and unshakable.
“…but did you ever stop to wonder if he’ll forgive you, Yibo?”
And as Zhan turned and walked away, he realized…
Maybe his mind wasn’t ready to remember, but the truth found him anyway.
And from this point on, everything changed.
He could already feel it… in the silence, in his steps, and in the way his eyes no longer saw Yibo the way they used to.
Whatever they were before, whatever he believed, it had already changed.
And no amount of forgetting would bring it back.
It wasn’t just friendship anymore… and nothing between them would ever be the same.
Not when… that line between friendship and something more had already been crossed.
Something between them had changed — quietly, permanently.
There was no going back.
Not when something deeper had already begun.
And the truth was… it scared him.
[To be continued…]
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Author’s Note:
Heyyy, you made it to the end of the chapter! 😄
Hope you enjoyed it — and if you did, please don’t forget to like & comment on my Insta post. 💖
Think of it as your way of telling me, “Hey, I’m here, and I loved it!” — it means the world to me and truly keeps me inspired to write more for you! ✨
The Red Ribbon 