Five Days Apart
[📘 Content Warning:
This story contains Boys’ Love (BL) themes. Reader discretion is advised. Please read the disclaimers mentioned in the Instagram post.]
It had been five days since that night.
Five days since Zhan last slept, ate, or breathed without pain squeezing his chest.
Five days since he’d seen the sky beyond his curtains.
Five days since he last stepped into his beloved bookstore, the place that once gave him peace.
When his parents asked why, he simply whispered.
“Not feeling well.”
But in truth, he was breaking.
Quietly. Completely.
Because no matter how many times he replayed Yibo’s sobs in his head, he couldn’t unhear them.
No matter how tightly he closed his eyes, he couldn’t forget the silence that followed.
The sound of someone being hurt and knowing he couldn’t stop it… that was what haunted him.
Not being there for Yibo, not being able to pull him out of that house… not being enough.
Meanwhile, shut inside the house like a prisoner, Yibo lived beneath his father’s constant control and cold silence.
His father hadn’t left the house since the confrontation.
The tension in that household was a lit fuse.
Zhang Meilan had been trying, pleading, arguing in hushed tones and begging Wang Jinfa not to act on impulse.
Even Yibo’s grandmother, Jinfa’s own mother, had spoken gently, urging him not to be so harsh with a son who was no longer a child.
She had tried to reason with him, to soften the fire in his eyes.
But it only made things worse.
Jinfa lashed out at them both, accusing the two women of spoiling Yibo in his absence, blaming them for letting things “go this far.”
In his mind, they had fed Yibo’s “confusion,” and now, he saw himself as the only one left to “fix” his son.
Meilan had barely slept, constantly watching her husband, constantly trying to delay that one dreaded phone call to the girl’s family.
But time was running short.
And since that night, Yibo had barely left his room.
He ate little, spoke even less.
He stopped responding to Meilan, never once looked at Jinfa, and only exchanged a few quiet words with his Nainai, only when his father wasn’t around.
The rest of the time, he sat in silence.
Most nights ended in silence, his face turned to the wall, tears slipping quietly down his cheeks.
No sobs. No sounds.
Just silent tears… shed alone, never seen, never spoken of.
But his mind never stopped screaming.
Not at the memory of his father’s hand, but at the ache of being torn away from Zhan.
That hurt more than anything.
Not being able to see him, or feel the warmth of his arms after the worst night of his life.
Like he was drifting further from the only person who ever made him feel safe.
He kept his phone hidden beneath the floorboard under his bed, wrapped in an old sock, afraid that even a beep might alert his father and end their only line of connection.
Only after midnight, when the house finally fell into reluctant slumber, did he dare to call Zhan — his voice low, broken, filled with pauses.
The phone buzzed once.
Zhan answered before the second ring.
“Bo…?”
His voice cracked, frantic.
“Are you alright? Talk to me… I’m here, okay? I’m right here.”
There was only silence for a breath.
Then, barely audible—
“…Ge.”
That one word… shattered him.
Zhan’s hand tightened around the phone as he fought to steady his voice.
“Don’t scare me like this, Bo… Please. Say something. Did he hurt you again? Are you safe right now?”
Silence again.
Then a shaky breath from the other end.
Zhan blinked back tears.
“I wait the whole day… just for this. Just to hear your voice. Just to know you’re safe.”
Another quiet inhale.
No words. Just pain.
“I hate this, Bo. I hate not being able to hold you. Not being able to take you away from that place.”
His voice broke.
“If I could, I’d never let him touch you again.”
Still nothing.
But the silence was heavy… aching.
“It’s ok, you don’t have to speak.”
Zhan whispered.
“Just listen. I love you. I love you so much, I can’t breathe without you. And no matter what happens, I’m not going anywhere. Do you hear me?”
There was the sound of a choked breath.
Then another.
“I miss you…”
Yibo murmured.
“Everything hurts without you, ge.”
Zhan swallowed hard, his voice shaking.
“I miss you too, baobei… so much it’s killing me.”
He wiped at his face, even though the tears kept falling.
“I hate this… I hate knowing you’re hurting and I can’t do anything.”
Another silence, then a cracked confession.
“Sometimes I wish I could just disappear, ge.”
Yibo whispered.
“So no one has to fix me anymore.”
Zhan’s breath hitched.
“Don’t say that. Please… don’t ever say that.”
He was already crying.
“You don’t need to be fixed, Bo. You just need to be loved. And I love you… with everything I have.”
Yibo didn’t speak again, but Zhan could hear his soft, shaking breaths.
And finally… a soft, broken sob.
So Zhan just stayed… whispering small things.
“I’m with you”, “You’re not alone”, “We’ll make it through.”
…until the line fell quiet again.
And each time the call ended, Zhan felt like a part of him was being peeled away, raw and bleeding.
By the fifth day night, Liu Fang had had enough.
She stood by the hallway for a long while, watching the soft sliver of light escaping from under Zhan’s door.
He hadn’t come out for dinner.
Barely responded to knocks.
So she stepped in.
Zhan was curled up on his side, facing the wall, eyes closed.
But she could see the faint shimmer of tears on his cheek, the damp patches on the pillow.
Liu Fang sat gently on the edge of the bed, her hand slowly moving through his hair — careful, comforting, hesitant.
Zhan flinched slightly at first, startled, then opened his swollen, red-rimmed eyes.
Upon seeing her, he sat up slowly, wiping at his face in vain.
She looked at him, her heart sinking.
“Zhanu… what happened?”
In the quiet living room, Xiao Guoqiang paused mid-page with the newspaper in his hands, ears tuning in.
In the opposite room, Yue’s pen halted against her notebook.
Zhan couldn’t form the words.
His throat tightened.
But his fingers clutched his mother’s hand desperately — like it was the only thing anchoring him to this world.
And then, the tears came harder.
Wordless.
He leaned forward and buried his face in her shoulder, sobbing silently, breath hitching.
“Zhanu…”
Liu Fang whispered, trying to keep calm though her hands trembled.
“Tell me, my boy. What is it? Please…”
Zhan opened his mouth, but the words came out in broken pieces, cracked by emotion.
“Ma… I don’t know what to do… he’s hurting… his family… they’re not listening… his father—”
He couldn’t finish.
His throat closed up, and he began to shake.
“—his father… he slapped him, Ma. More than once. And now… now he wants to marry him off to a girl. But… but… he doesn’t want that, Ma. He’s scared. I… I don’t want that either. I can’t—”
Zhan’s voice shook harder, fury and helplessness lacing every word.
“His father thinks there’s something wrong with him. Says it’s some kind of sickness in his head.”
He gasped, chest heaving, barely holding himself together.
“But he’s not sick, Ma. And I—”
Zhan’s voice cracked as his hands curled into fists.
“I’m not able to do anything…”
His words broke apart with a sob.
Liu Fang held him tighter, her brows furrowing in pure confusion.
“Zhan… who are you talking about?”
She asked gently, her voice careful but puzzled.
“Who hit whom? And why are you so scared of this marriage?”
Her arms stayed wrapped around him, firm and warm, even as her mind raced to make sense of his broken words.
But Zhan just kept talking, as if he hadn’t heard her at all.
“I want to save him. I want to pull him out of there. Because I’m scared… scared that his father might hurt him again, maybe worse this time.”
His shoulders shook as he whispered, voice cracking beneath the weight of fear and desperation.
“I feel so helpless, Ma… and he’s all I have. I can’t watch him go through this.”
His voice cracked again.
“I can’t lose him… I can’t. I… I can’t live without him… Ma.”
And with those words, he shattered.
Still buried in her shoulder, Zhan’s silent sobs turned loud, raw, and uncontrollable.
His body trembled against hers as the dam finally broke.
It wasn’t just heartbreak.
It was fear. Helplessness. Grief.
And for the first time since that night, he let himself fall apart… completely, hopelessly, in his mother’s arms.
The truth didn’t just fall into the room.
It shattered it… like glass breaking without sound, leaving behind a silence that felt almost sacred… or terrifying.
Liu Fang’s entire body went still, her hand frozen mid-air, eyes wide and unreadable.
And then slowly, achingly realization began to dawn in her eyes.
Her son… wasn’t just talking about a friend.
He is in love…. with a boy.
Everything suddenly made sense and yet it knocked the breath out of her.
In the living room, Xiao Guoqiang’s grip on the newspaper tightened until it crumpled softly in his hands, forgotten.
Across the room, Yue’s pen slipped from her fingers and dropped to the floor with a small clink, the only sound in the heavy stillness.
Neither of them spoke.
But the truth hit… undeniable and clear.
And now, just like Liu Fang, they understood.
The silence felt like the air had shifted, like the world had tilted slightly… and they were all trying to make sense of it.
Only Zhan’s quiet sobs filled the space, muffled against his mother’s shoulder.
Liu Fang finally spoke.
Her voice came out low, almost afraid to disturb the fragile stillness.
“Is… is it Yibo? You… you’re in love with him, Zhan?”
Zhan nodded, eyes closed.
And in a whisper so fragile it nearly broke with breath, he said.
“Yes. They found out. His father laid hands on him. Badly. He’s been locked up since. I haven’t even been able to speak to him properly. Ma… I want to save him, but I don’t know how. I just want him safe. That’s all…”
Liu Fang took a slow breath, blinking away her own tears.
Then she pulled him closer, wrapping her arms around him tight.
“Zhanu…”
She whispered, stroking his back.
“Crying won’t help, love. I know it hurts, I know it does… but if we just cry, nothing will change. We have to think. We’ll figure something out, okay?”
Zhan nodded against her shoulder, too tired to speak, too desperate to argue.
Liu Fang tilted his face gently, wiping his tears with her thumbs.
“Look at me. We’ll do something. I don’t know what… yet, but we will. Don’t worry.”
Zhan closed his eyes again, breathing her in, letting her steady warmth settle over his crumbling pieces.
When Liu Fang finally stepped out of the room, her eyes looked distant, almost hollow.
She met Xiao Guoqiang’s gaze for just a second.
Neither of them spoke.
There was a flicker… something between shock, worry, and a quiet ache that passed across his face.
Without a word, she turned away and walked toward the kitchen.
Xiao Guoqiang watched her go.
The newspaper in his hands had long gone limp.
He just sat there, eyes fixed on nothing, still and silent, like a man trying to understand something that didn’t fit into the world he thought he knew.
Not angry. Not cruel.
Just… lost.
And in her room, Yue wiped her own tears quietly, staring at the closed door to her Ge’s room.
She had always sensed something unspoken between Zhan and Yibo… quiet glances, lingering silences, the way her brother’s voice softened when he said his name.
But, it was the first time in her life she had heard Zhan cry like that — not as a brother, not as a man… but as someone in love, and in unbearable pain.
Late that night, when the whole house had quieted, Yue padded softly across the hall and knocked gently on Zhan’s door.
“Ge…?”
She whispered.
“I’m coming in.”
No answer.
She opened the door slowly.
Zhan was on the floor, back against the wall, arms around his knees, eyes empty but wet.
He didn’t look at her when she walked in.
Just stared at the nothingness in front of him.
Yue didn’t speak at first.
She sat down on the floor across from him, mirroring his posture.
The silence was fragile, stretching like glass between them.
Then, softly, she reached out and touched his arm.
“Ge…”
She said gently.
“Do you… want to see Bo-ge?”
Zhan’s head snapped up — sharply, with the raw, dazed hope of someone dying of thirst being offered water.
He looked at her like he couldn’t believe what she just said.
She smiled faintly, her voice barely more than a whisper.
“I can help you.”
——————————————
It was Sunday night, a little after eight.
The air outside Wang’s house was quiet.
The doorbell rang unexpectedly, sharp against the silence.
Wang Jinfa opened the door with a frown etched into his face.
He was already on edge these days, as if each knock or ring might bring scandal right to his doorstep.
He looked out and saw a girl, barely more than a teenager, standing there.
Hands clasped nervously in front of her, her ponytail slightly messy, dust clinging to the hem of her jeans.
“Is this… Yibo-ge’s house?”
She asked, slightly breathless.
He narrowed his eyes.
“Yes. Who are you?”
She gave a sheepish smile.
“Uncle, I’m coming from Deqing. My scooter broke down a little ahead… someone said there’s a garage here, but it was closed. Then I heard about Yibo-ge, so… I came here. Sorry to bother you.”
“The garage is shut for maintenance. Not opening anytime soon.”
Jinfa said flatly.
“But uncle, it’s late already… and there’s no other garage around. I can’t leave the scooter and go all the way back to Deqing alone at this time. Please, it’s just a puncture. Just a little help…”
Zhang Meilan came out, drying her hands on a kitchen towel.
“Who is it?”
“She’s asking for Bobo.”
Jinfa muttered.
“Says her scooter’s busted and she’s stranded.”
He sighed heavily, then turned to her and said.
“Go, call him.”
Zhang Meilan hesitated, then walked toward Yibo’s room.
He was lying on his bed, earphones in but nothing playing.
Just silence and shadows.
His damp hair clung slightly to his forehead, a fresh shower doing little to wash away the tension in his face.
He stared at the ceiling, lost in thought, not even noticing her at the door.
“Your baba is calling you.”
Yibo didn’t even glance at her.
“Ma, leave me alone.”
“It’s some girl. She needs help. Her scooter’s broken. Please, Bobo… it’s dark outside and she is alone.”
Yibo exhaled sharply, then sat up with a groan, dragging a hoodie over his T-shirt and running a hand through his hair.
His body felt heavy like wet cloth.
He shuffled into the living room, tugging his hoodie sleeves down over his hands and then stopped cold when he saw who was standing near the door.
…Yue?
The girl standing at the door gave him a sheepish nod, lips twitching like she was trying hard not to grin.
“Are you Yibo-ge?”
His eyebrows lifted slightly, startled, but he caught himself quickly.
“Yeah. That’s me.”
He glanced briefly at his parents, then back at her.
“Yibo-ge…”
she said in a light voice.
“Please help me? Just a puncture.”
Before he could reply, Jinfa’s voice came sharp behind him.
“Fix it quick and come straight back. No delays.”
Yibo didn’t respond.
Just followed Yue out into the warm night.
As soon as they turned the corner past the gate, and the night air wrapped around them like a thin veil of secrecy, Yibo hissed under his breath.
“Yue, what the hell are you doing here?”
Yue, totally unbothered, just grabbed his sleeve.
“Come on, Bo-ge. Don’t waste time, I’ll explain on the way.”
They turned left toward the garage.
Yibo’s heart had started racing now, stomach twisting with some strange hope he was too scared to name.
At the final turn before the garage, Yue slowed down.
“Zhan-ge’s waiting behind the garage. You know that place, right?”
Yibo’s eyes widened… hope cracked through his dull shell of exhaustion.
“He… he’s here? Right now?”
He whispered.
Yue nodded.
“Yeah. Go. I’ll stay here. If uncle comes, I’ll call him. Just go.”
Yibo didn’t wait.
His legs moved before his brain did, sneakers hitting pavement in quick strides.
Behind the garage, the world was silent.
Just the buzz of distant streetlights and the soft rustle of wind through the trees.
The dim light cast long shadows across the cracked pavement.
Yibo turned the corner and stopped.
Zhan was there, leaning against the wall, arms folded across his chest, head bowed and lost in thought.
His silhouette was both familiar and heartbreakingly distant.
Then, as if sensing him, Zhan slowly looked up… and their eyes met.
And in that second, it felt like the air shifted.
Like color returned to a grayscale world.
Zhan straightened.
His eyes widened.
A breath hitched in his chest.
“Bo…”
Yibo didn’t wait.
He walked fast, then broke into a run and then he was there, wrapping his arms around Zhan like he might vanish if he let go.
Yibo buried his face in Zhan’s shoulder, clinging to him with everything he had.
Zhan held him just as tightly, his hand gently cupping the back of Yibo’s head, as if to say…
I’m here. I’ve got you.
“Oh god… Bo… now I can breathe.”
His voice came out hoarse, broken.
“I couldn’t breathe without you, ge.”
Yibo whispered, voice frayed.
“Everything just hurt…”
His arms tightened around Zhan.
“Let me hold you… I need to feel like I’m still alive.”
Yibo murmured.
Zhan’s breath hitched, eyes shut tight as he pulled him impossibly closer.
They stood like that for a long moment.
No words.
Just the sound of their hearts remembering how to beat.
When they finally pulled apart, Zhan cupped Yibo’s face.
He gasped softly, fingertips brushing over his bruised cheek, the faint purplish imprint of a hand still visible.
Fresh. New.
Zhan’s heart clenched.
“Bo…”
His voice cracked.
“He hit you again?!”
Yibo didn’t answer.
He just closed his eyes, leaned into Zhan’s palm like it was the only warmth left in the world.
Tears welled in Zhan’s eyes.
“Bo, come with me.”
Yibo opened his eyes.
“Where?”
“I don’t know.”
Zhan whispered.
“Anywhere. I just don’t want you to go back in there.”
Yibo gave a shaky laugh, laced with pain.
“If I leave now… Ma will be the one who suffers. He’ll take it out on her. And I can’t let that happen, ge.”
Zhan’s face twisted.
“Then what am I supposed to do? Just walk away and pretend you’re okay? I can’t. I can’t leave you here like this, Bo.”
Yibo touched his forehead to Zhan’s.
“You risked everything just to come here. That’s more than enough.”
“No…”
Zhan said firmly.
“No… It’s not enough. He’ll get worse, Bo. He’ll do something reckless.”
Yibo’s eyes went glassy.
“Then maybe he’ll only stop when I’m dead.”
“Bo!”
Zhan grabbed him, voice shaking.
“Don’t say that. Don’t even let it cross your mind.”
His breath hitched, eyes brimming.
“If you say it again… I don’t know what I’ll do next. I don’t want this life, or anything, anyone, any future… if you’re not with me.”
Yibo looked into his eyes, gaze soft but heavy with emotion.
“I’m still breathing only for you, ge.”
He swallowed hard, voice barely above a whisper.
“Because in my father’s eyes… I’m not even human anymore. I’m just a problem he needs to fix.”
“And my mother… she wants to help, I know she does. But she can’t do much now. It’s like even her voice doesn’t reach him anymore.”
He looked away, eyes dark with pain.
“I’ve started to hate what I see in the mirror, ge. It feels like I’ve become someone I don’t even recognize… someone they’re ashamed of.”
Zhan didn’t speak right away.
Instead, he reached out, gently cupping Yibo’s face in both hands… thumbs brushing away the tears he didn’t even realize had fallen.
His touch was firm, grounding… like he was trying to hold Yibo together piece by piece.
“Look at me, Bo.”
His voice trembled, but his eyes never left Yibo’s.
“You’re not something broken. You’re not a problem.”
“You’re the bravest person I know. And I’m proud of you… every part of you.”
He leaned forward, pressing his forehead gently to Yibo’s.
“If they can’t see your worth, that’s their failure… not yours. You belong with me. Always.”
Zhan was staring at him like trying to memorize every detail of his face.
Then he said, soft but firm.
“You’re my strength, Bo. My everything. I don’t know how to walk away from you.”
Yibo gave him a sad smile.
“You have to. Just for now. Let it settle. We’ll figure something out, you said that. So, let’s do it. I’ll handle Ba. Just… give it time.”
Zhan didn’t move.
His hands were still on Yibo’s face.
“Even if I go, I want you to know this—”
He leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to Yibo’s lips.
Tender. Lingering.
Tears slid down both their faces.
“I love you.”
Zhan said.
“And I’ll be waiting. No matter how long it takes.”
Yibo nodded slowly, holding onto his hand.
“I know, ge… and your love is the only thing keeping me alive.”
Just then, Yibo’s phone buzzed.
He glanced at the screen.
His father.
He picked up.
“Yes?”
“What’s taking so long?”
Came Wang Jinfa’s sharp voice.
“Come back. Now!”
“…Hmm.”
Yibo ended the call, eyes still on Zhan.
“You should go.”
He said quietly.
“Yue’s waiting alone. Don’t worry about me, ge… I’ll manage.”
They hugged one last time, longer than before.
Like neither wanted to let go first.
Zhan whispered.
“Please stay safe, baobei.”
Yibo’s voice trembled.
“I will. For you…”
Zhan hesitated, then leaned in close, voice barely above a breath.
“And if it ever gets too much… if you can’t take it anymore, don’t stay. Just come out. I’ll be there. We’ll leave. Find someplace that’s ours. Somewhere… they can’t touch us.”
Yibo nodded, their foreheads touched for a second, the silence heavy, hearts louder than words.
Zhan let his hand lingered at the side of Yibo’s neck, thumb brushing just beneath his jaw, then slowly stepped back, like it physically hurt to pull away.
His steps were slow, each one heavier than the last… like he was pulling himself away from the only place he wanted to stay.
Then, as Zhan walked away, he turned once at the corner… just as Yibo looked up.
Their eyes met.
So many words unsaid.
So many promises unspoken.
Yibo gave a tiny nod.
Zhan got on the scooter behind Yue.
The engine hummed to life, and they pulled away.
Left behind, Yibo stood still, heart heavier than ever.
Like he’d seen a sliver of sunlight in the dark… only to watch it vanish again.
[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 