Holding The Silence
[📘 Content Warning:
This story contains Boys’ Love (BL) themes. Reader discretion is advised. Please read the disclaimers mentioned in the Instagram post.]
It was raining heavily.
The kind that turned roads into mirrors and made the world blur into itself.
Late that night, after the house had finally fallen silent, the only light in Zhan’s room came from the soft amber glow of his bedside lamp, casting long shadows on the wall.
The air was thick, damp with the scent of rain, and filled with that strange stillness that only settled after midnight, when thoughts grew louder and everything felt closer than it should.
He had just shut his laptop after finishing the last round of proofreading, the screen going dark with a quiet click.
For a moment, he stayed seated in the chair, fingers idle in his lap, thinking about his visit to Yibo’s house earlier that evening… and the way that kiss had happened, sudden and electric, right in his room, like it had been waiting to happen all along.
Then, quietly, he pushed himself up and walked over to his bed.
That’s when his phone lit up.
Bo-Di calling.
A small, involuntary smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
Just seeing that name… it made his heart both slow down and race at the same time.
He answered instantly, barely a second of hesitation.
“Bo? What’s up?”
There was silence on the line.
But not the usual kind.
Not the soft, comfortable kind they often shared breathing each other in through quiet.
This was different.
Tense. Pressed down.
Zhan’s smile faded.
He sat up straighter, his back pressing against the cold wall behind his bed, brows knitting in concern.
“Bo…? What’s wrong? All okay?”
On the other end, Yibo finally spoke.
His voice was low.
Strained.
Like it had been holding back everything for hours.
“…No, ge. Nothing is okay now.”
Zhan’s chest pulled tight, a sharp ache blooming under his ribs.
“Yibo… what happened?”
A pause.
Then,
“Ma… she found out.”
Zhan’s breath hitched, the air catching in his throat.
“…What?!”
Another pause.
“She saw us…”
Yibo’s voice dropped to barely a whisper.
“In my room. When we were…”
He didn’t finish.
He didn’t have to.
Zhan shut his eyes hard.
The memory hit him like a wave, Yibo’s hands on his waist, the way their mouths had fit so naturally, how the air between them had crackled with quiet, stolen want.
Now that warmth twisted into cold dread.
He pressed a hand over his mouth, stunned.
His fingers were trembling.
“I told you…”
He muttered through his palm.
“I told you not to do anything stupid…”
“I know.”
Yibo said, and though his voice was calm, it held a worn edge.
“But how long were we going to keep hiding? One day I’d have to face it. Guess the day just came sooner than we expected.”
Zhan exhaled sharply and rubbed at his temple, as if trying to push the pressure back in.
The ache in his chest was growing deeper, heavier.
“What… what did she say?”
A pause.
Then, Yibo’s voice again, frayed at the edges now.
“She’s scared. About Ba. About what’ll happen if he even gets a hint. And the usual… the world, the people… society.”
Zhan let out a heavy breath, his gaze fixed on the ceiling.
The words weren’t new.
Just echoes of what they’d been silently fearing for months, lurking at the edges of every laugh, every touch, every kiss stolen behind closed doors.
“And what did you say, Bo?”
Another pause.
When Yibo answered, his voice was quieter.
But truer.
“I told her that… I love you. And that’s the truth, whether she can accept it or not.”
Zhan pressed his lips tightly together, his throat thick.
His eyes burned, and he leaned his head back against the wall, letting it hold the weight of everything pressing in on him.
For a moment, he couldn’t speak.
His chest felt full of worry, of love, of a fear so sharp it felt almost solid.
“…Bo.”
He finally whispered.
“Listen to me.”
On the other end, Yibo said nothing, but his breath was there… soft, shaky, waiting.
“You sleep now, alright?”
Zhan said gently, trying to keep his voice steady for both of them.
“We’ll talk tomorrow. We’ll figure things out. Okay?”
“But, ge…”
“No buts.”
Zhan cut in, firmer this time.
Trying to hold the pieces together even as they threatened to fall apart.
“I’m here. You’re not alone. We’ll face this together.”
There was a long pause.
Then a soft exhale from Yibo’s side.
A sound like surrender.
Like release.
“…Okay, Zhan-ge.”
Zhan closed his eyes, a tired smile brushing his lips despite the heaviness.
“Sleep well… baobei.”
He murmured.
“Call me if you can’t, okay?”
“Mm.”
The call ended.
Zhan stared at the dark screen for a long moment before placing the phone gently on the nightstand.
He lay back, blanket forgotten, eyes wide open in the amber half-light.
His heart wasn’t pounding.
It was heavy.
Anchored.
Weighted by quiet dread… and a love so deep it almost hurt to hold.
They were standing on the edge of something dangerous now.
A line they couldn’t uncross.
But he wasn’t letting go.
Not of Yibo.
Not even for the world.
Not ever.
——————————————–
The sun was dipping low behind the hills when Zhan arrived at the riverbank.
The breeze was cool and tinged with the scent of damp earth and fading sunlight.
The sky above them stretched wide and bruised with soft purples and streaks of amber.
It was quiet, only the slow gurgle of the water and the rustle of the leaves overhead broke the stillness.
Yibo was already there, sitting on the stone ledge near the water.
His hoodie sleeves were pushed up to his elbows, fingers fidgeting with a pebble that he occasionally tossed from palm to palm, like he couldn’t sit still.
When he heard Zhan’s footsteps, he didn’t turn around, but Zhan knew he was listening.
Without a word Zhan sat beside him.
Their shoulders brushed faintly.
For a while, neither of them said anything.
Just sat there, staring at the lazy current of the river like it held answers.
Zhan exhaled, his voice low and even.
“You didn’t sleep much last night, did you?”
Yibo shrugged.
“Did you?”
Zhan gave a small scoff.
“Didn’t even try.”
The pebble slipped from Yibo’s fingers and plunked into the water.
He watched the ripples fade before speaking again.
“I was so scared yesterday.”
Yibo admitted, voice smaller now.
“When she asked me…. My heart just, stopped.”
Zhan glanced at him slowly.
“But you didn’t lie.”
Yibo shook his head.
“I couldn’t. Not about you.”
There was a pause.
A bird chirped somewhere in the distance, the wind playing softly between them.
“And then I realized…”
Yibo whispered, his eyes fixed on Zhan, gaze steady despite the storm behind it.
“If this is love… and I have to hide it forever, like a dirty secret… what’s the point, ge?”
Zhan pressed his lips together.
The ache in his chest was dull and deep.
He swallowed hard, then said.
“It’s not that I want to keep us a secret, Bo. I just…”
Zhan looked down, his fingers curling, knuckles pale with the pressure.
“I was waiting for the right time. When you’ve got something stable in your hands, and I’ve got something solid lined up abroad.”
He exhaled, voice softer now, almost like he was explaining it to himself too.
“I thought… when we’d have something steady – jobs, a plan… something solid to stand on before we ever faced our families.”
He looked over at Yibo, eyes lingering on him for a long moment.
“Because, we’ll never be accepted easily, Bo…”
He murmured.
“Not here. Not now. Maybe not ever.”
Yibo’s hands curled into fists on his lap.
“I don’t care.”
He said.
“I don’t care if the world never accepts us… or if no one understands. As long as I have you by my side, Zhan-ge… I’ll survive.”
Zhan reached over and placed his hand over Yibo’s slowly.
Their fingers didn’t intertwine… just rested, warm and quiet.
“But I don’t want you to lose anyone.”
He said softly.
“Not like this. Not because of me. That should be our last option, when there’s truly no other way left… but not now.”
Zhan whispered.
“I want you to live freely. Proudly. I want you to be happy, not just with me but in every part of your life.”
Yibo turned to him, eyes glassy.
“Then don’t give up on us, ge.”
He said, voice trembling.
“No matter how hard it gets. Promise me that.”
Zhan looked straight at him.
“I won’t. Ever.”
His voice cracked.
“Even if the world turns its back… I won’t.”
Yibo let out a shaky breath.
Something heavy in his chest loosened, just a little.
The wind picked up, brushing past their hair like a quiet blessing.
The river moved on, steady and indifferent, carrying their silence with it.
Yibo leaned sideways, resting his head lightly on Zhan’s shoulder.
And Zhan didn’t care if anyone was watching.
If Yibo needed his shoulder to feel safe, then that was all that mattered… that comfort came first above fear, above caution, above everything.
Neither of them spoke.
They didn’t need to.
But as the last sliver of sunlight dipped behind the water, Zhan whispered against the breeze.
“We’ll figure it out, Bo. One step at a time.”
And Yibo, eyes closed, holding on to the only thing that felt safe, breathed back.
“Hmm… as long as that step is with you, ge.”
———————————————
A few more days passed, blurred at the edges like smudged ink on damp paper.
The routine held firm for them.
But something had shifted in the atmosphere around Yibo, something too subtle to touch but too heavy to ignore.
Zhang Meilan hadn’t said more than a handful of words to him since that night.
No scoldings.
No teasing nicknames.
No “Eat more, Bobo,” with that soft nudge to his bowl.
Not even the gentle nagging she used to offer about his laundry or his odd sleeping hours.
Just silence.
Thick, echoing silence that settled around their meals like an unwelcome guest.
She would set the rice on the table without looking at him, the clink of chopsticks louder than usual in the void between them.
That night, after dinner, once the house had gone quiet, Yibo finally stood up from his room and walked softly into the kitchen.
His grandmother had already gone to bed.
The house was still, the only sound was the splash of water as Meilan rinsed a plate at the sink.
Yibo leaned against the doorway for a moment, watching her from behind.
Then, he walked closer, slowly, until he was standing beside her.
His voice was low.
Careful.
“Ma… how long is it gonna be like this?”
Her hands didn’t stop moving.
She kept rinsing, stacking the clean plate to the side.
Only her voice answered.
Quiet, flat.
“Until you come out of your delusions, Bobo.”
Yibo let out a slow breath, more hurt than surprised.
He stepped closer.
“Ma, I’m not delusional. And I’m not ignoring reality, either. I know this is hard for you.”
He paused, trying to form the words right.
“But it’s…”
She turned to him sharply, cutting through his sentence like a blade.
“…It’s nothing, Bobo.”
Her voice cracked.
“You’re walking a path where, eventually, you’re going to end up hurt. Heartbroken. Alone.”
Yibo blinked, startled by the sharpness in her tone.
“And I don’t know if Zhan will have to watch it happen to you… but I will.”
She continued, voice trembling now.
“I’ll be the one watching my son break. Picking up the pieces when the world decides it has a problem with who he loves.”
She blinked fast, like holding back tears was the only control she had left.
“I’ll be the one forced to watch my son fall apart when the world starts tearing you down.”
Her hand was still wet, dripping water onto the tiled floor.
There was a beat of silence before her face twisted and she looked away, her eyes filling fast.
“I raised you to be strong.”
She whispered.
“But I didn’t want your strength to come from surviving pain.”
The air between them was thick.
And in that moment, Yibo didn’t know what to say.
Didn’t know how to bridge the gap between her fear and his truth.
He swallowed hard.
His voice dropped, softer than before.
“I’m not asking you to be okay with it overnight.”
“Then what are you asking, Bobo?”
She asked, wiping her cheek with the back of her hand.
Yibo took a step forward.
“Just don’t turn your face away from me like this, Ma.”
His voice cracked slightly.
“You’ve always seen me. All my life, you’ve seen me. Please… don’t stop now.”
Zhang Meilan turned to him.
Her eyes were already wet, the pain etched into her face not sharp like anger, but soft like quiet surrender.
She raised her hand, still damp from the dishes, and cupped his cheek.
Her touch was trembling.
Her voice trembled, cracking under the weight of everything she couldn’t bear to feel.
“Bobo… please…”
She whispered.
“Please… leave him.”
A pause.
Her breath hitched like something inside her was splintering.
“This won’t end well. You know it, don’t you?”
She swallowed hard.
Her thumb trembled against his skin.
“I’m not asking because I don’t care. I’m asking because I do.”
She blinked rapidly, trying to hold back the flood.
“Set everything else aside for a second, Bobo… just imagine, if your Ba finds out.”
Her voice cracked.
“You know how he is. What he’ll say. What he’ll do. You really think he’ll sit down and talk? No… he’ll flip this house upside down.”
“And you… he won’t stop until he breaks you down. And in the end, you’ll be the one left carrying all the damage.”
Another shuddered breath.
“You think love will be enough, but in the real world… love isn’t always enough.”
She shook her head slowly, as if trying to wake him from a dream.
“It’ll hurt. God, I know it will. But pain…”
She paused, voice catching.
“Pain fades, my boy. It leaves scars, but at least you’ll still be whole.”
Her eyes searched his face with a desperate tenderness.
“But this?”
She whispered.
“This will take you apart, piece by piece. I can already see it happening. And I…”
Her voice broke again, barely audible.
“And I… I can’t watch you destroy yourself for something the world will never let you have.”
She drew in a shaky breath, then added softly, pleadingly.
“If you must… talk to Zhan. Say what you need to say. But Bobo, please…”
“Please end it. Before it’s too late.”
Yibo’s chest rose and fell, uneven.
He reached up and placed his hand over hers, still cradling his face.
He closed his eyes for a moment.
Just breathing.
Then, he opened them, glassy with tears.
His fingers curled tighter around hers.
When he spoke, his voice was low… not because he was hiding, but because it was all he could manage through the thickness in his throat.
“I’m sorry, Ma…”
He breathed.
“…but I can’t.”
He blinked slowly, and a tear finally slipped down his cheek.
“I’ve tried to imagine it.”
He whispered, his voice trembling.
“A life without him. I can’t even breathe when I think about it.”
A painful pause.
His jaw tightened.
“You’re asking me to let go of the one person who makes all of this… this whole life feel like it’s worth something.”
He swallowed, hard.
“I know it won’t be easy. I know people will talk. I know Ba might never accept it. But Ma…”
He looked at her then, straight in the eyes, his own full of quiet defiance and aching truth.
“I’d rather be hated by the world than live a lie. I’d rather be hurt holding on to him… than empty letting him go.”
Another tear fell.
He didn’t wipe it away.
“So no… I can’t.”
A long pause.
“Because I don’t know how to be alive without him anymore.”
Zhang Meilan stared into his eyes.
For a long, still moment.
And there it was something she hadn’t wanted to see.
Not just the grief or confusion.
But the quiet fire.
The stubbornness.
The kind of love that doesn’t ask for approval.
The kind of love that chooses its person, even if the world doesn’t.
Her own tears spilled freely now.
She didn’t try to hide them.
Didn’t wipe them away.
She swallowed hard, her voice low and fragile.
“… As you wish, Bobo.”
She took her hand back gently.
Her eyes flickered, and she looked away.
“If you choose this path… don’t expect me to walk it with you.”
There was a finality to her words.
Zhang Meilan turned back to the sink.
Her shoulders were drawn tight.
She didn’t speak anymore.
She just picked up another plate and began to wash it slowly.
As if keeping her hands busy was the only way to stop her heart from breaking louder.
Then, quietly, without anger, just a tired kind of truth Yibo said.
“You’re my mother, but you still judge me for my choices. You’re so scared of the world outside, you don’t even want to look at what I want.”
He paused, eyes on her back.
“But Zhan-ge… he never judged me. He never once feared the world… only ever cared about what makes me happy. What matters to me.”
Another pause, this one deeper.
“Maybe that’s the difference, Ma… that’s why I can’t let go of him.”
She didn’t turn around.
Just kept scrubbing the plate, slower now.
“Say those words again, Bobo… when one day, your heart finally breaks and you’re the one crying.”
Her voice was quiet, but not soft.
“When the world shows you exactly why I was scared… maybe then you’ll understand what I was trying to protect you from.”
She paused, the sound of water running filling the silence between them.
Then, with a calm that felt heavier than anger, like something in her had quietly given up.
“I guess we’re done talking.”
It sounded like a quiet door closing between them… one that might not open again so easily.
Yibo stood there for a few seconds longer.
Then, without another word, he turned and walked back to his room.
His chest felt tight, like her words had carved out a space inside him — hollow and aching.
It wasn’t anger. Not fully.
It was that bitter sting of realizing the person who’s supposed to protect you, love you unconditionally… had just drawn a line.
Not with fire, but with quiet fear.
And in her silence, in that soft “we’re done talking,” he heard something worse than rejection.
He heard something heavier than disapproval… a quiet refusal to accept him for who he truly was.
And there was no comfort big enough to cover that kind of wound.
Behind him, the sound of running water kept echoing soft, relentless, like quiet grief spilling into a sink.
After that night, Yibo didn’t complain.
Not once.
But it hurt in ways he didn’t know how to admit.
He bore it the way he’d borne everything else in life… jaw set, shoulders squared, like the silence was another weight he could carry without flinching.
And Zhan… Zhan noticed.
Every time they met, Zhan’s gaze lingered a second longer on Yibo’s tired eyes, his slower steps, the way he would sometimes drift off mid-thought… like someone slowly forgetting what happiness felt like.
Zhan never pushed, but he didn’t stay silent either.
“She’s still your mom, Yibo. She loves you. She’s just… dealing with it her own way.”
Yibo didn’t reply to that.
He just nodded once and stared at the metro map like it might re-arrange and give him a new destination.
Zhan would reach over sometimes, barely a brush of fingers across his wrist, a fleeting squeeze on his hand.
A quiet re-assurance: I’m here. You’re not alone. Nothing will go wrong.
And even though Yibo never said it out loud, that single touch each day kept him from unraveling.
In a world that kept asking him to choose between himself and the ones he loved, he chose silence… because that was the only way left to protect what little of himself he had left.
And Zhan didn’t say it out loud, but it was ripping him apart inside… watching Yibo shrink into silence, carrying a weight he couldn’t lift.
He would have done anything, anything at all, just to bring back that smile… the one that used to light up his world like dawn breaking after a thousand nights of storm.
[To be continued…]
——————————————
Author’s Note:
Heyyy, you made it to the end of the chapter! 😄
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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 