The First Hold
[📘 Content Warning:
This story contains Boys’ Love (BL) themes. Reader discretion is advised. Please read the disclaimers mentioned in the Instagram post.]
When they reached the car, the chaos came into view.
A tall metal shelf, stacked high with old tires, rusty tools, and tangled cables, had toppled onto Zhan’s car.
The impact rocked it hard, a heavy cart slamming into the rear fender before the vehicle flipped upside down.
One of the windows cracked from the force, sharp slivers trembling in the frame.
And inside—
Zeyu.
Strapped in by the seat belt, his tiny body hung upside down, motionless.
A faint bruise marked his temple, proof of where his head had struck the window when the car jolted.
His breaths were shallow, but the belt had held him secure, sparing him from worse.
And when Zhan saw his son hanging limp in the seat belt, he let out a sound that wasn’t quite human… half sob, half scream.
“ZEYU!! oh my god, baobei!!”
He dropped hard to his knees beside the wreck, fumbling at the car door with hands that shook uncontrollably.
“Open, open… dammit !!”
He choked, fingers slipping.
“Zhan-ge!”
Yibo’s voice cut through, firm but shaken.
He caught Zhan’s arm, his own chest heaving.
“Stay back, you’ll hurt yourself. Let me.”
Zhan’s wild eyes snapped to him, panic blinding, but his trembling hands fell still.
Yibo crouched low beside the overturned car.
For a second, the sight of the tiny boy hanging limp in the seat belt punched the air out of him, his heart twisting violently.
Zhan-ge’s son.
Then he saw Zhan… frozen, broken, tears streaming… and he didn’t hesitate anymore.
One hard pull and the bent door resisted for a moment before screeching open, metal grinding.
The jagged frame scraped the side of Yibo’s hand as it gave way.
A sharp slice of pain bloomed across his palm, warm blood rising fast.
But Yibo didn’t flinch.
Didn’t even look at it.
He leaned in quickly, the sting in his hand forgotten as he fumbled with the seat belt.
The buckle finally clicked free, and Zeyu’s small body sagged forward.
Yibo caught him instantly, pulling the boy into his arms, cradling him against his chest.
His other arm rose instinctively, steadying the child’s limp head with a tenderness that needed no words.
Beside him, Zhan was already on his knees, eyes wide, chest heaving, his trembling hands hovering helplessly in the air.
Yibo looked at him… at the shaking fingers, the broken voice, the raw terror etched across his face and something inside him ached so fiercely it nearly stole his breath.
Then his gaze fell to Zeyu.
The boy’s tiny face, far too pale, rested limp against his chest.
Yibo’s arm tightened around him before he even realized it, holding him as if the world itself might try to take him away.
And without a word, Yibo stayed by Zhan’s side, Zeyu resting limp but safe in his arms.
Their fear and silence binding them tighter than anything else ever had, letting their knees touch, closing the distance between grief and comfort.
The weight of Zeyu’s small, unconscious body was nothing compared to the storm twisting in their chests.
Zhan reached up, hands trembling, brushing his son’s cheek as tears spilled freely.
“Baobei… Zeyu, look at Baba… can you hear me? oh god!”
No response.
Just the faint rise and fall of breath against Yibo’s chest.
“Why isn’t he moving?!”
Zhan’s voice cracked, frantic.
“Why won’t he open his eyes?!”
Yibo drew Zeyu closer against his chest, shielding the boy instinctively despite the sting in his bleeding hand.
“He’s breathing, ge…”
“I think he hit his head, but he’s okay. The seat belt held him… it stopped him from being thrown out.”
Yibo murmured again, quieter this time.
“He just needs help.”
Zhan’s fingers slid down to feel Zeyu’s pulse for himself, needing to feel that small flutter of life.
When he did, he let out a choked sound, part relief, part anguish and leaned into Yibo’s shoulder, forehead resting against Zeyu’s tiny form.
A low sob escaped Zhan’s lips.
“I shouldn’t have left you. I shouldn’t have—”
Then Yibo whispered, urgent but gentle.
“Zhan-ge…”
He said, eyes fierce, protective.
“We don’t have time to blame right now. Let’s move.”
Zhan nodded, tears streaking down his cheeks as he stood.
Yibo lifted Zeyu into his arms with a gentleness that made Zhan’s knees weak, like he was holding something precious, breakable, sacred.
The security guard, pale and sweating, stammered an explanation through the rush.
“I… I just stepped away for a second… someone called me, just outside the lot… I swear, he was fine, then this noise and I saw the shelf fall… he must have hit his head when the car jolted.”
Zhan didn’t yell.
Didn’t scream.
He just looked at the man with shattered eyes and said, barely above a whisper.
“It’s okay… thank you for staying with him. We’ll take him to the hospital.”
Yibo shifted Zeyu gently in his arms, the boy’s weight cradled against his chest.
Without a word, he turned and ran toward the bike, boots pounding the concrete.
But something deeper churned beneath the rush.
Zhan-ge has a child… Zhan-ge has a son.
And somehow, it broke something open inside Yibo’s chest… wide and aching.
Zhan caught up, breaths sharp and ragged, and reached for his son.
His hands trembled as Yibo carefully passed the boy into his arms.
Every faint hitch of Zeyu’s breathing sliced deeper than any scream.
Yibo swung one leg over the seat, settled fast, and motioned.
“Get on. Hold him between us, I’ll ride.”
Zhan climbed on behind, his arms trembling as he wrapped them protectively around Zeyu, sandwiching the boy against his own chest.
His lips pressed to his son’s hair, whispering.
“Baba’s here… Baba’s here… ok, don’t worry…”
Yibo didn’t look back.
The engine roared to life.
Tires screeched.
He rode… fast, steady, heart pounding.
And in the wind rushing past them, neither of them could hear the whispered thought that repeated in Yibo’s mind over and over.
“I wasn’t there when you needed me before. But this time… I’m not leaving.”
———————————–
The beeping of the monitors was soft and steady.
Each pulse a quiet reassurance that Zeyu was okay.
He lay on the hospital bed, cheeks flushed from the earlier panic but now peaceful, small chest rising and falling beneath the blanket.
The doctor’s words echoed in Zhan’s ears,
“It’s a minor concussion. He fainted from panic and shock, but he’ll be fine. We just need to monitor him, give him fluids, and let the medicine help him sleep for a while.”
He sat still for a moment after the doctors left, eyes locked on his son’s sleeping face as if afraid to blink.
Relief washed through his body like a quiet tide, making his limbs weak, his throat tight.
Yibo stood by the wall in silence, not wanting to intrude but unable to tear his eyes away either.
He had one hand loosely curled by his side, the other cradling the one that had started to stain darker with blood.
Only when Zhan turned to look at him did he see it.
His breath caught.
“Bo! your hand.”
He said quickly, getting up.
“It’s bleeding.”
Yibo blinked down at it, almost like he’d forgotten.
“Oh…”
He murmured.
“It’s fine, ge. Just a scratch.”
“No, it’s not fine.”
Zhan snapped softly, panic creeping back into his voice.
“That looks deep, why didn’t you say anything?”
Before Yibo could respond, the door creaked open.
A nurse stepped in, carrying a tray of meds.
She gave them a polite nod as she moved across the room.
Zhan turned to her.
“Excuse me, miss… please, can you bandage his hand? It’s bleeding pretty badly.”
The nurse paused mid-step, glancing at Yibo.
“Of course. Sir, please come with me.”
Yibo hesitated, eyes flickering to Zeyu and then to Zhan.
Zhan gave him a small nod.
“Go. Let them treat it.”
With a reluctant sigh, Yibo followed the nurse out, the door clicking shut behind them.
Zhan turned back to his son.
He slowly walked over, the hospital chair squeaking softly as he pulled it closer and sank down beside the bed.
He reached out and gently took Zeyu’s tiny hand in both of his, pressing it against his own forehead, eyes fluttering shut.
A whisper cracked from his throat.
“Sorry… baobei…. I’m so, so sorry.”
His voice broke.
He let the silence settle, the hum of machines and distant footfalls in the hallway the only sounds around them.
Then, brushing a strand of soft hair off Zeyu’s forehead, Zhan whispered again, this time with a trembling smile.
“You know, Baobei… today your Pa saved you. If he hadn’t been there—”
He stopped, voice shaking.
“I don’t even know what I would’ve done. I couldn’t reach you fast enough. But he could. He did.”
His thumb gently caressed Zeyu’s small knuckles as he stared at the boy’s face, heart full, eyes misted.
“Zeyu… you always say your Pa is a hero, right?”
His voice cracked, a tear slipping down his cheek.
“Today, you were right.”
He brushed his son’s tiny hand, his lips trembling.
“When you wake up, just thank him, hmm? Because your Baba’s nothing without you, my baobei… and today, your Pa saved nothing less than my life.”
———————————-
The hospital room was quiet except for the soft hum of the IV machine and Zeyu’s slow, medicated breaths.
Outside, the light had faded into a dusky purple.
Rainclouds gathered like a warning above the city skyline, but in this moment, the storm had already passed inside these four walls.
Zhan sat slumped on the chair beside the hospital bed, body curved toward the side table.
One elbow rested on its surface, his fingers pinched between his eyes in fatigue
His black framed glasses lay folded beside him, forgotten.
The fluorescent light painted faint shadows under his eyes, exhaustion clinging to every line of his face.
The door creaked open.
Zhan blinked.
Slowly, he turned to see Yibo stepping back in.
His T-shirt was a little crumpled, his movements quiet, careful as if afraid to disturb the fragile calm.
Zhan’s eyes instinctively dropped to Yibo’s hand.
The wound was now neatly bandaged, stark white against his tanned skin.
Yibo walked over and pulled a chair closer, sinking into it with a soft sigh.
His gaze landed on the sleeping boy, whose small body barely made a dent in the hospital bed.
Zeyu’s cheeks were flushed from the fever, but peaceful, thanks to the medication.
His small hand rested palm-up by his head, fingers twitching lightly in dreams.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
The silence wasn’t awkward… it was weighted, thoughtful, heavy with all the unsaid things between them.
Then Yibo asked softly, eyes not leaving the child’s face.
“You have a son, ge?”
Zhan looked at him, startled for a second.
The truth trembled in his throat… He’s not just mine.
But he swallowed it down.
Now wasn’t the right time.
He turned back to Zeyu and gave a small nod.
“Yes…”
He said quietly.
“He’s my son.”
Yibo’s jaw flexed slightly, but he didn’t push further.
His eyes dropped to the floor, then slowly found Zhan again.
“Thank you, Bo.”
Zhan whispered, voice rough.
“You have no idea what you saved today for me.”
Yibo inhaled, long and deep.
He didn’t immediately respond.
Instead, he looked at Zeyu again, the crease in his brow softening.
“It’s okay, ge. I saw the panic in your eyes when you ran out… the kind of fear that doesn’t lie. The same pain I saw in your face that last night by the riverside.”
He paused, voice dipping.
“So I knew. I knew he was your whole world. Because I know that feeling… when your world is slipping away and your hands are either tied… or frozen.”
Zhan stared at him, throat tight.
The words reached somewhere deep, too deep.
“You still didn’t answer my questions.”
He said, quiet but firm.
Yibo exhaled slowly and stood.
He walked toward the window, glanced at the stormy sky.
“It’s already evening.”
He said.
“Looks like rain’s coming in fast. And your car… it’s in no condition to make the trip. I told my guys to start fixing it, but it won’t be ready tonight.”
He turned back to Zhan, hesitating.
“Zeyu will be discharged by night, right?”
Zhan nodded faintly.
“Then…”
Yibo’s voice dipped.
“If you’re okay with it, please stay tonight. At my place.”
Zhan blinked.
“Your house?”
Yibo nodded.
“Yeah. It’s small. Just a little place near the garage. The bags from your car, I had my boys send them over there. I didn’t want to leave anything lying around.”
He stepped closer.
“I know you want answers, I’ll give them to you. Just… not here. Please, ge. Come with me. Don’t say no.”
Zhan glanced at Zeyu.
Then turned slowly back to Yibo.
He nodded.
Relief washed over Yibo’s face like sunrise breaking through fog.
They didn’t say much after that.
Yibo moved in and out, arranging the discharge papers, collecting medicines, coordinating with his workers.
Zhan never once left Zeyu’s side.
Holding his hand, brushing back strands of hair from his forehead, eyes never straying.
Around 8’o clock, the doctor signed off the final release.
Zeyu, still groggy from the painkillers, was held close, his small body shielded from the evening chill in his father’s arms.”
Zhan texted his mother a calm lie, telling her that the weather was bad and they were staying at a hotel.
He couldn’t risk her or his sister panicking.
Yibo had one of his workers collect the bike from the hospital lot.
Then he called a taxi.
When it arrived, Zhan carried Zeyu carefully in his arms while Yibo handled the files and medicines.
The ride was quiet.
The windows fogged gently from the rain starting to fall, and the soft glow of streetlights swept across their faces in intervals.
Zeyu’s breathing was steady against Zhan’s chest.
Yibo sat beside him, silent, alert, stealing glances every so often at Zhan, at the boy, at the fragile peace he wasn’t sure he deserved, but desperately wanted to protect.
As the taxi turned toward the narrow lane near the garage, the world outside blurred in mist and drizzle.
And for the first time in years… Zhan didn’t feel entirely alone.
[To be continued…]
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Author’s Note:
Heyyy, you made it to the end of the chapter! 😊
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The Red Ribbon 