Thinking About You
[📘 Content Warning:
This story contains Boys’ Love (BL) themes. Reader discretion is advised. Please read the disclaimers mentioned in the Instagram post.]
The rain had stopped sometime in the night, leaving only the soft dripping of water from the awning outside.
Dawn crept slowly into the small room, pale gold light slipping through the thin curtains, brushing over tangled limbs and crumpled clothes on the floor.
Zhan stirred first.
His entire body ached.
A deep, unmistakable soreness that pulsed through his muscles and bones, raw and tender from how hard he’d clung to Yibo, how breathlessly he’d arched beneath him.
His hips throbbed, tight and bruised from friction, thighs still trembling with strain, and his lips were swollen, bruised from the way they’d kissed like they were starving.
His skin felt over-sensitized, flushed and burning in places where fingers had gripped too hard, where Yibo’s mouth had lingered, bitten, claimed.
Even in the cool morning air, his body burned.
He was marked by Yibo in ways that went deeper than skin.
Zhan didn’t move at first.
Just breathed.
Then he shifted slightly, feeling the heat of Yibo’s body still pressed close.
The blanket had slipped down during the night, baring the smooth plane of Yibo’s back to the cool morning light.
His eyes fell on the faint red lines clawed down Yibo’s skin… thin, raw, unmistakably his.
Scratch marks.
From his own nails.
Zhan blinked.
He lightly brushed his fingers over one of the deeper ones.
The skin was warm, rising slightly under his touch.
He could see where he’d dragged his nails down during those breathless wild moments, when Yibo had been buried deep inside him and the world had narrowed down to nothing but touch and sound and heat.
“Need to cut my damn nails today.”
He muttered under his breath, lips quirking wryly.
Behind the soft rise and fall of Yibo’s breath, there was a quiet stir.
“Mmm… you think I didn’t enjoy every scratch?”
Yibo’s voice came out low, still heavy with sleep but edged with a grin.
Zhan’s eyes darted up.
Yibo was awake now, half-turned, cheek smushed into the pillow, that stupidly gorgeous post-sleep smile curling his lips.
“You heard that?”
Zhan asked, a little embarrassed.
“Mm-hm. Heard you mumbling to yourself… and touching me like I was some fragile thing you broke last night.”
Yibo smirked, but his voice held a trace of something softer beneath the teasing.
“Seeing these nail scratches, it looks like someone definitely lost control last night.”
Zhan laughed softly, smug and satisfied.
“Oh, didn’t realize I went that hard, ge.”
“You did.”
Yibo stretched slowly, face dipping into the pillow as a low groan escaped him.
“And I loved every fucking second. I can’t move, and I still want more.”
Zhan rolled his eyes, blushing.
“Horny brat!”
“Your horny brat…!”
Yibo mumbled, then turned to face him fully.
“I’m sore.”
Zhan murmured, voice cracked from sleep and something else.
Yibo made a sleepy grunt.
“Mmm… not my fault. You were way too tempting to stop.”
He dragged his fingers down Zhan’s spine with a satisfied hum, then raised a brow, amused.
“And let’s be honest, you didn’t exactly say ‘stop’ either.”
Zhan gave a low laugh, barely a huff.
“You said you’d be gentle.”
“I was…”
Yibo protested, eyes closed.
“For like… the three five minutes!”
He smirked, cracking one eye open.
“And who was it moaning ‘harder,’ sounding so desperate like you’d die if I stopped?”
He chuckled softly.
Zhan’s cheeks flushed instantly.
“Ugh! shut up.”
He mumbled, swatting lightly at Yibo’s chest, trying and failing to hide his grin.
He groaned and pulled the blanket over his head, hiding like a sulky kid caught doing something naughty, trying to escape both the morning light and Yibo’s smugness.
Yibo chuckled, stretching lazily.
“Didn’t think a softie like you would ask to be taken that hard.”
Zhan smirked, eyes glinting as he peeked out from beneath the blanket.
“And I didn’t think a guy like you, all rough and growly, would start off so gentle.”
Yibo leaned in, lips brushing Zhan’s ear.
“Being gentle was just a warm-up… until the softie begged for it rough.”
Zhan’s lips curled into a sly smile as he met Yibo’s gaze.
“I begged so the beast in you could finally come out, Mr. Rough-and-Touch. Looked like he was desperate for a reason.”
Suddenly, Yibo’s expression shifted, and Zhan caught that wild gleam returning to his eyes… the same fierce hunger from last night.
Yibo leaned in slowly, to kiss Zhan’s lips.
But Zhan raised a finger, pressing it gently against Yibo’s lips to stop him.
“Nuh-uh. Easy, tiger. I’m still sore from your little rampage last night. My poor body needs a break, so round two is off the table for now. Don’t even think about it.”
Yibo pouted, rolling his eyes with a playful sigh, then turned away and stretched out flat.
“Fine!”
He muttered, a hint of disappointment in his voice.
Then Zhan turned, slowly, body protesting.
Yibo’s expression softened as their eyes met.
He reached up and brushed Zhan’s cheek with the backs of his fingers.
“We’re really doing this, huh?”
Zhan leaned in, pressing a kiss to the corner of Yibo’s mouth.
“Yeah…”
He whispered.
“We are.”
Zhan’s fingers found Yibo’s hand under the blanket, laced with his.
Their legs tangled further, and Yibo blinked, lids heavy, strands of hair flopping over his forehead.
Then his gaze dropped to the bite mark on Zhan’s shoulder, red and slightly deep.
It was the one he’d made when he lost control in the heat of being buried deep inside him, unable to hold back.
He reached out and brushed his fingers over it, careful and slow.
His touch lingered, gentle, almost guilty.
His eyes trailed upward, catching sight of a few faint marks scattered along Zhan’s neck; hickeys, dark and blooming, his doing.
“You okay, ge?”
Yibo asked softly, voice low, like he was half proud, half apologetic beneath the sleep in his voice.
Zhan nodded, brushing his thumb against Yibo’s cheek.
“Yeah. I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck. But a really sexy one.”
Yibo smirked, stretching like a cat.
“You’re terrible.”
“And you love it.”
“Maybe I do.”
They lay in silence for a moment longer, eyes tracing each other’s faces, the air between them thick with everything unsaid, but no longer uncomfortable.
The silence felt earned.
Intimate.
Zhan reached up, pushing Yibo’s messy hair off his forehead.
“I don’t want to move.”
“Don’t.”
Yibo whispered.
“Not yet.”
And so they stayed like that.
In a sun-drenched hush.
Two hearts still racing under the skin.
——————————————-
Zhan returned home around nine in the morning, walking in with slow, quiet steps.
The soreness in his body clung to every movement – his shoulders, his hips, even the ache in his thighs, but instead of wincing, he found himself smiling.
It was a good kind of sore.
A memory pressed into his skin.
He went straight to the bathroom.
The warm water hit him like a balm, steam curling around him as he stood under the stream, letting it wash over his body.
As he ran his hands across his skin, he could still feel Yibo’s touch ghosting over every inch.
The way Yibo had whispered his name.
The way they moved together like the world didn’t exist.
His gaze drifted down to the faint red marks blooming along his hips and collarbone, reminders of Yibo’s hands, his mouth, his need.
He tilted his head back, eyes fluttering shut as a small, private smile spread on his lips.
“God….”
He thought and laughed under his breath, low and breathless.
“What did you do to me, Mr. Wang Yibo?”
Freshly showered and dressed in clean, soft clothes, he wore a turtleneck tee and cargo pants.
The tee clung to his skin, hiding the bites and bruises blooming across his neck and shoulder.
He had stood in front of the mirror, combing his hair, unusually shy as flashes of last night rushed into his mind, making him smile and bite his lip without meaning to.
His steps were a little stiff, the soreness lingering in his thighs and hips, but he forced himself to walk normal – no limping, no flinching.
No reason to raise suspicion.
Then he walked into the kitchen.
Breakfast was already being set on the table.
The scent of warm soy milk and fried eggs filled the air.
Liu Fang turned from the stove with a plate in hand, her eyes immediately narrowing at the sound of Zhan humming something unusually cheerful.
Her gaze landed on his face, sharp and curious.
“What happened Zhan?”
She asked, setting the plate down.
“You look unusually happy this morning.”
Zhan paused mid-seat, lips twitching.
“Nothing, Ma.”
He said, but the soft blush creeping up his neck gave him away.
Yue was already seated across from him, munching on her toast.
She squinted at him suspiciously, but said nothing, yet.
Just as Zhan reached for his chopsticks, his phone buzzed on the table.
He tapped the screen.
Yibo:
Heading to the garage. See you in the evening, ge.
That was it. Simple. Normal.
And it made Zhan’s heart skip like a stone across a still lake.
A smile bloomed on his face before he could stop it, and his cheeks flushed all over again.
Yue caught it.
“Ge…”
She said slowly, lowering her glass of milk.
“Why are you blushing?”
Zhan’s head snapped up.
“Wh-what?”
“You’re blushing.”
She repeated, narrowing her eyes like a detective closing in on a suspect.
“Me…?!”
Zhan laughed awkwardly, picking up his chopsticks again as if that could distract her.
“Why would I be blushing? You’re imagining things. Eat your breakfast and get to college on time.”
Yue narrowed her eyes even more.
“Why are you wearing that tee? You hate turtlenecks.”
Zhan didn’t miss a beat, still pretending to focus on his bowl.
“I felt like wearing it, so I did. What’s your problem?”
She leaned over the table slightly, lips twitching.
“Mm-hmm. Totally normal behavior. Definitely not hiding anything.”
Then she silently raised two fingers to her eyes and pointed them at Zhan in mock warning.
“I’m watching you.”
Zhan groaned and rolled his eyes.
“You need help.”
—————————————
Meanwhile, at the other end of town, Yibo didn’t talk much, and he sure as hell didn’t walk around smiling like an idiot.
But that morning, he caught himself grinning at nothing while tugging on his sneakers, getting ready to head to the garage.
His body still felt the imprint of last night; the weight of Zhan’s touch, the heat of his skin, the way he’d melted under him.
He didn’t do soft.
But damn, something about Zhan made him feel like he could lose control and still be fine.
Like it was allowed.
It was addictive. Dangerous.
And he was already craving another taste.
Yet, beneath the hunger, the love he already knew he carried had only deepened… quiet, grounding, and impossible to ignore.
Not long after, in the small garage that smelled of grease and gasoline, Yibo moved with a noticeable spring in his step.
He was humming a tune badly, but didn’t care.
He whistled while sorting his tools and tapped his fingers on the workbench as he cleaned a carburetor.
His mood was unusually buoyant, and it didn’t go unnoticed.
The grocery store uncle from next door peeked his head into the open garage door.
“Yibo, today you’re in a very good mood. What happened, ah?”
Yibo blinked, then smiled sheepishly and looked down, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Nothing, Uncle… Just a good day, that’s all.”
The old man grinned.
“Hmph. Young people.”
———————————————
By afternoon, the sun was high and golden as Zhan slipped into his bookstore.
The comforting smell of paper and ink wrapped around him like a familiar hug.
Now that Su Mian was gone, the space felt like his again — calm, quiet, untouched.
His sanctuary.
But more than that, it had become something deeper.
This was where his most intimate memories with Yibo had taken root… their first real kiss, not a brush of lips, but a slow, desperate make-out that had left them both breathless and undone.
The bookstore was no longer just his escape.
It was theirs now.
It was the place where something real had started.
Something unforgettable.
He served his usual stream of customers; mothers with kids, students hunting for textbooks, one old man who liked to talk about poetry and then tucked himself into the back room to focus on the publishing project.
The second phase was nearly done.
He had only a few days left until the deadline, and he was determined to submit it in perfect shape.
The hours passed quickly.
Zhan was deep into editing illustrations, headphones in, fingers flying over his keyboard when the bell above the door jingled.
It was around five in the evening, and the light outside had mellowed into soft amber.
Yibo stepped inside, the late sunlight catching in his hair, a breeze of evening warmth trailing in behind him.
He looked around, heart already speeding up as he spotted Zhan emerging from the back room.
Their eyes met.
Zhan’s face lit up in an instant, his whole body seeming to relax and come alive at once.
He stepped forward, but before he could say anything, Yibo was already there, wrapping him in a tight hug.
Zhan’s breath caught, his hands moving instinctively around Yibo’s waist.
“I missed you.”
Yibo whispered against his ear, lips brushing warm skin before he pressed a soft kiss to Zhan’s cheek.
Zhan smiled into his shoulder.
“I missed you too… Bo.”
They held onto each other for a while, the sounds of the world fading out as if this little bookstore was the only place that mattered.
Yibo pulled back just enough to look at him, fingers still resting lightly at Zhan’s waist.
“Come on.”
He said, a soft smile tugging at his lips.
“Let’s go.”
Zhan only smiled, eyes warm.
“Okay.”
Yibo tilted his head, a little amused.
“You don’t even want to know where we’re going?”
Zhan reached up, brushing a strand of hair from Yibo’s forehead, his touch lingering with quiet affection.
“No.”
He said with a small shake of his head.
“Wherever you want me to come with you… I’ll come.”
Yibo’s expression softened completely, something unspoken passing between them.
Zhan turned back toward the counter.
“Give me two minutes to close the shop.”
He slipped into the small back room to lock things up, his mind brushing past the unfinished project files, the deadlines waiting for him.
But none of it mattered right now.
Nothing was more important than him.
————————————–
The riverside was quiet this time of day, the sun already dipping low, scattering golden flecks across the gentle current.
Trees on either side rustled softly in the breeze, their leaves whispering secrets only the wind could hear.
Zhan stood with his arms crossed, leaning against the railing, his face glowing faintly in the amber light.
Yibo came up behind him and bumped their shoulders together, wordlessly.
He didn’t need to ask if Zhan was okay, not yet.
They walked side by side for a while, letting the gravel crunch beneath their steps, letting the calm do the talking.
Then Yibo looked at Zhan for a moment longer and said.
“Zhan-ge…”
“Hmm?”
“What happened last night… meant more to me than just what we did.”
Zhan’s heart thudded.
He stopped walking and met Yibo’s gaze.
The warmth in his gaze settled something deep in Zhan’s chest.
“Me neither.”
Zhan said quietly with a smile.
“It felt like… more. Like I’ve been trying to breathe for years, and suddenly… last night, I could.”
Yibo smiled softly, his heart warming with relief that Zhan had finally embraced who he truly was… no longer confused, but fully himself.
They kept walking for a few more steps, then quietly settled near a large rock by the riverside, shoulders touching as they sat side by side.
This time, a little closer than before.
The river shimmered in front of them, quiet and endless, and for a while, they just watched it in silence, breathing in the peace together.
After a stretch of silence, Zhan spoke up, his voice low but clear.
“I… got a call from the immigration consultancy today.”
He said, eyes still on the horizon.
“They might schedule an interview next week… for that editorial post.”
Yibo glanced over, his voice softer now.
“Which country?”
Zhan hesitated.
“Netherlands.”
Yibo nodded slowly.
“That’s good. You should go.”
“…Yeah.”
But something in the air shifted.
The breeze cooled.
The sky dimmed just a little.
Zhan didn’t look at him.
He didn’t say he was excited.
He didn’t smile.
And Yibo didn’t ask why.
Instead, he shoved his hands in his jacket pocket and said.
“I’m thinking of applying too… to some big auto firms. Real ones. Maybe in Shanghai. One more semester and then I should be ready. If I get something stable, it’d be a help for Ma and Ba.”
Zhan finally turned to look at him, face unreadable.
He nodded.
“You should. You’re really good, Bo.”
Yibo gave a small smile.
“You think so?”
Zhan’s voice softened.
“I know so.”
Their words fell away after that.
But they didn’t need them.
They sat on the stone bench under the tree, shoulder to shoulder, watching the fading light dance over the water.
The silence wasn’t heavy but underneath, thoughts were spinning.
Questions neither dared to ask just yet.
“Will you leave?”
“Will you ask me to stay?”
“Are we strong enough for this?”
None of it made it to their lips.
When they parted that evening, Zhan walked home slowly, his phone already in hand.
The moment he got home, he was already texting Yibo about random things, like what he ate, how the sky looked, and some ridiculous pigeon that looked too full to fly.
And Yibo replied to every single one – instantly.
Later that night, as Zhan curled into bed, a quiet ache settled in his chest.
He instantly wished Yibo was there beside him, like last night, close enough to touch, close enough to breathe in.
Then his phone buzzed.
“Bo-Di” lit up on the screen, and Zhan’s face lit up, eyes bright as he scrambled to answer.
They talked for hours, about everything and nothing.
They had been friends for over a year, speaking nearly every day.
But now, every word felt different, more tender.
It was like they were quietly relearning each other, seeing things through a new lens.
There was more to say, more to share, more quiet reasons to stay on the line.
It felt like gravity, steady and constant, drawing them even closer.
It was ordinary.
It was everything.
And when Zhan finally fell asleep, phone still by his ear, Yibo’s voice still lingered in his dreams.
Their love wasn’t loud.
But it was growing… steady, rooted, quietly blooming into something real.
———————————————
Time passed by just like that and so did their love, growing steady and deep, like roots weaving quietly beneath the surface.
Yibo’s college semester had resumed, and their daily routine fell back into its familiar rhythm.
Every morning, sharp at 7:45, they’d board the same metro, Zhan from Hangzhou, Yibo from Linping and meeting somewhere in the middle, shoulder to shoulder, sleep still clinging to their eyes, warmth blooming in their smiles.
After classes, Yibo would head to Deqing for his delivery shifts.
On most days, he’d swing by the bookstore.
If customers were browsing, he’d drop off a snack or a cold drink for Zhan, exchange a few soft words, and slip out unnoticed.
But if the coast was clear, if the shop was quiet and the bell above the door had long stopped ringing then Zhan would pull him by the hand into the back room, where time blurred in the heat of tangled limbs, whispered moans, and kisses too urgent to wait.
Evenings were theirs too… Yibo’s scooter rumbling up outside, Zhan waiting with a bag slung over his shoulder, hair a little tousled from the day.
They’d ride to the station, wind rushing past their ears, laughter spilling into the dusk.
Life, for once was gentle.
[To be continued…]
——————————————-
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 