A Promise Kept
[📘 Content Warning:
This story contains Boys’ Love (BL) themes. Reader discretion is advised. Please read the disclaimers mentioned in the Instagram post.]
Zeyu was unusually grumpy, his tiny brows drawn low and mouth set in a sulky pout.
The medicine had clearly taken a toll on him, making his body sluggish and his head heavy.
Zhan carried him in his arms, gently rocking him as they moved from the hallway to the kitchen.
“Baba, my head is hurting…”
Zeyu mumbled, voice muffled as he tried to raise his hand to rub at his temple.
Zhan immediately caught the hand mid-air, cradling it with his own.
“No, no, baobei… don’t rub it. Baba will give you medicine, and the pain will go away soon, okay?”
Zeyu nodded and blinked slowly, leaning his head into Zhan’s chest.
His voice was soft and fuzzy.
“Baba… I want cookies.”
Zhan paused, just for a beat, and then tilted his head down to meet Zeyu’s big blue eyes.
“Zeyu… what time is it?”
Zeyu pouted harder, his cheeks puffing up.
“Dinner time.”
Zhan arched a brow.
“Exactly. So it’s not cookie time, right?”
Zeyu sniffled.
“Then… can I have it after dinner?”
Zhan gave a helpless little chuckle.
“Deal.”
He carried Zeyu to the kitchen and set him gently on the kitchen counter, the cool slab steady beneath him.
The light overhead cast a golden warmth across the room, catching in Zeyu’s tousled hair.
Zhan lifted the lid off the still-warm pot of noodle soup, fragrant steam rising as he ladled a serving of broth and noodles into a bowl.
He blew on it before lifting the first bite to Zeyu’s mouth.
“Slowly.”
He said.
“Chew properly, hmm?”
As Zeyu chewed slowly, his feet swinging off the edge of the counter, a quiet shuffling sound came from the hallway.
Yibo stood near the kitchen doorway, one hand tucked into his pocket as he leaned against the side, watching the scene unfold with soft disbelief.
Zeyu hadn’t even noticed him yet.
His attention was entirely on the man spoon-feeding him, the quiet rhythm of comfort.
Zeyu swallowed a bite, then suddenly blinked.
“Baba?”
“Mm?”
Zhan wiped a bit of broth from his chin with his thumb.
“Whose house is this?”
Zhan chuckled lightly and glanced at Yibo, his tone playfully teasing.
“You guess.”
Zeyu tilted his head, lips pressing together as if thinking very hard.
His eyes wandered across the kitchen and then locked onto the figure standing at the kitchen entrance.
He blinked.
Once.
Twice.
His little mouth parted, his legs stopping mid-swing as his wide eyes fixed on the tall man.
His expression shifted, not with confusion but with quiet recognition.
Zhan followed his gaze and turned.
Yibo straightened a little under the weight of those wide blue eyes.
He lifted his hand in a small wave, a gentle smile tugging at his lips.
“Hey…”
But Zeyu didn’t smile back.
His gaze stayed fixed.
Thoughtful.
Familiar.
His eyes remained on Yibo, who now looked genuinely unsettled under the boy’s piercing attention.
Thinking Zeyu might not be comfortable with his presence, Yibo quietly stepped away to the living room.
Zhan frowned slightly and brushed Zeyu’s hair back.
“What’s wrong, baobei?”
But Zeyu didn’t answer.
After finishing the last spoonful of noodles, Zhan washed his mouth, wiped it, and then scooped Zeyu up again.
Together, they made their way to the living room, where Yibo sat, trying to mask the confusion that had been brewing inside him.
Zhan sat beside Yibo on the couch, settling Zeyu on his lap.
But the boy’s eyes didn’t move away from Yibo for even a second, lingering briefly on the bandaged hand before returning to his face.
Yibo tried again, offering him a small smile.
“Zeyu… you feeling better now?”
Zeyu blinked slowly and looked up at Zhan.
His little fingers clutched Zhan’s shirt.
Zhan gave an encouraging nod.
“It’s okay, baobei. You can talk to him.”
Zeyu looked back at Yibo, tilted his head slightly, and said in a quiet certain voice.
“Your hair… it’s long now.”
Yibo froze.
“What?!”
Zeyu turned again to Zhan, seeking confirmation.
“Right, Baba?”
Zhan’s throat tightened as he nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
“Yeah…”
Yibo’s chest rose sharply, his breath catching.
Before either of them could react further, Zeyu carefully climbed down from Zhan’s lap and knelt beside Yibo on the couch.
His little voice came out soft.
“Pa… why you didn’t come to see us?”
Yibo’s heart slammed against his ribs.
“Pa?!”
He blinked rapidly, breath stuttering.
“I… wha-what did you just say—what?!”
Yibo’s wide eyes flicked to Zhan for a brief second before snapping back to Zeyu, his face a storm of shock and confusion.
Zeyu’s eyes didn’t leave his face.
“Are you angry with me and Baba?”
Yibo turned to Zhan again, panic rising, and found tears glistening in Zhan’s eyes as he gave only a soft, small smile… quietly saying:
This is your moment…
Before Yibo could gather his breath to respond, Zeyu stood up and padded over to the corner of the living room where his toy bag had been tucked under a small side table.
He opened it and dug through it with a sense of purpose, as if this moment had been long prepared in his little heart.
Zhan and Yibo watched in silence.
Zeyu began pulling things out—small plushies, a keychain, a green motorcycle, a folded piece of paper, a crumbled snack wrapper.
Then he found what he was looking for, his favorite red toy car and a single chocolate bar.
He walked back over to Yibo and carefully placed both items in front of him on the coffee table.
“Pa, this is my favorite car. But you can take it.”
He said, voice steady but soft.
“And this chocolate… Baba lets me eat only one a day. You can have today’s.”
Yibo’s lips parted.
He stared at the tiny offerings in front of him like they were made of gold.
Then Zeyu held out the folded piece of paper.
“Look, Pa… I made a picture for you. Don’t be angry anymore, okay? Now you can be happy.”
Yibo couldn’t speak.
Couldn’t move.
Zhan’s chest ached as he watched, his throat tightening with a mix of pride and sorrow.
It broke him, seeing his little boy offer up the treasures he had guarded so carefully, just as he had once promised he would, if he ever saw Yibo… all to make his Pa smile.
The innocence of it, the purity, left Zhan’s eyes stinging as he looked on in quiet awe.
With trembling fingers, Yibo took the folded paper and gently unfolded it.
The paper was wrinkled and smudged, but the drawing inside hit him like a train.
Three stick figures with round heads… two tall, one small between them, their stick hands linked in a crooked line, as if they belonged together.
Labeled: ‘Baba’ ‘Zeyu’ ‘Papa’
A sun smiled in the corner, and above it all, a shaky scrawl read:
My Happy Family.
Yibo stared at the paper like it might disappear if he blinked, tears trembling on the verge of falling.
Zeyu looked up at him, blue eyes wide with hope.
“Are you still angry with us, Papa?”
Yibo just stared, unable to breathe.
His lips trembled as the words slipped out in a whisper.
“Zeyu… you… are you… Ro… Rowan?”
The boy’s face lit up.
He giggled, eyes sparkling with excitement, then turned quickly to Zhan.
“Baba, see? Pa knows my name!”
Zhan pressed his lips together, nodding as he fought to hold back the flood of tears.
Zeyu turned back, lifting his little hand proudly to his chest.
“Yes, Pa… I’m Rowan. Rowan Xiao Wang. But Baba calls me Zeyu.”
Yibo gasped, his body jolting as if struck.
He couldn’t take it anymore.
He dropped to his knees and pulled Zeyu into his arms, clutching him as tightly as he dared, as though letting go would make him vanish.
His chest shook, hot tears streaming down his cheeks as he held his son at last.
“Oh my God… I… I’m… am sorry, Zeyu. I’m… so sorry.”
He whispered, his voice breaking apart.
He pulled back just enough to see the boy’s face, then rained frantic kisses across both of Zeyu’s cheeks, over and over, as if trying to make up for every missed day.
His trembling hands cupped the small, warm face, brushing across soft cheeks as if he couldn’t believe they were real.
“Pa didn’t come… not because he didn’t want to. Your Pa just… Pa didn’t know you were waiting. Forgive me, baobei… please… Pa’s here now, okay?”
And then he crushed Zeyu to his chest again, arms trembling as if he would never let go.
His words tumbled out, ragged with love and disbelief.
“God… my Rowan… my son… you’re my Rowan.”
Zeyu’s little arms wrapped around his neck, his small fingers curling in Yibo’s T-shirt.
“We missed you so much, Pa… don’t go away again, please.”
Yibo’s heart clenched.
He held Zeyu tighter, burying his face into the boy’s soft hair.
“No, Baobei…”
He whispered, voice thick.
“I won’t go anywhere now. I promise. Pa should have been with you. I… God, I should have been with you and Baba. I missed it all… I missed everything.”
Zhan wiped at his tears with a shaking hand, his chest so tight it hurt to breathe.
His heart felt split wide open, overflowing with a joy so fierce it ached.
He sank back into the couch cushion, eyes never leaving the two people on the floor.
Finally… finally, Zeyu was in his Pa’s arms… the moment Zhan had promised their son every single day for the last two years.
And maybe… just maybe, Zhan thought with a trembling smile, he had his Yibo back too.
————————————————-
The soft hum of the ceiling fan filled the room, blending with the gentle rhythm of Zeyu’s breathing.
It was past midnight.
The boy had finally fallen asleep again, after endless chatter, wide-eyed smiles, and the thrill of having his Pa beside him.
Zhan sat beside him on the bed, legs folded neatly, gently tucking the blanket around Zeyu’s tiny frame for the third time.
His hand lingered for a moment on the boy’s head, brushing back a few stubborn strands of hair that clung to his forehead.
Zeyu’s lashes were still damp, his face flushed, but the storm had quieted.
He was resting now.
Safe.
Yibo stood quietly by the doorway, arms folded, his presence solid but distant like he still wasn’t sure if he belonged in this quiet, sacred picture.
His gaze stayed fixed on the small body in the bed.
Zhan glanced at him and gave a small nod.
A silent invitation.
Yibo stepped in, careful not to make a sound as he came closer and looked down at Zeyu, eyes softening despite himself.
This small human… had known him all along.
“I still can’t believe it.”
Yibo murmured.
Zhan smiled faintly and finally stood, giving Zeyu one last lingering glance before slipping out.
Yibo followed in silence, and together they walked into the living room.
The soft pad of their footsteps the only sound in the quiet house.
They sat beside each other on the couch.
No words, not for a while.
Just the soft ticking of the old wall clock and the occasional creak of the wooden frame beneath them.
At last, Yibo spoke, his voice breaking the silence.
“Ge… you remembered.”
Zhan’s lips curved faintly, his gaze fixed ahead.
“How could I forget, Bo? It was your dream to have a boy and name him Rowan, wasn’t it? So when I could… I made it come true.”
Yibo turned to look at him, eyes shining… part disbelief, part gratitude, part ache.
Then, after a pause, he asked, voice low.
“And… Zeyu knew me?”
Zhan turned his head slowly and offered a tired, fond smile.
“He does, Bo. To him, you are his Papa. I never taught him the word. But one day, he pointed to your photo and said it himself, ‘Papa.’ Just like that. As if he knew.”
Yibo’s brows lifted slightly, still trying to process it.
Zhan let out a quiet breath, his gaze softening as memories flickered behind his eyes.
“When I first found him, he was barely two years old. Someone had left him at the steps of an orphanage. I used to visit there often, bringing whatever supplies I could. But the first time I saw him… he was in the arms of a nun, so small, so quiet. Just a baby with blue eyes far too big for his tiny face. Too fragile…”
His voice wavered, his gaze dropping as if the memory still weighed on him.
“I don’t know why, Bo, but the moment I looked at him, I felt it… like he was meant to be mine. I couldn’t shake it. So I went back again and again, and every time, my eyes found him first. Because I knew he was alone… and so was I.”
His throat tightened, a faint smile breaking through the ache as his eyes glistened.
“I couldn’t leave him there any longer. So, I signed the papers, adopted him and brought him home. I gave him the name you once wished to give… Rowan. And an identity to the world… not an orphan, but the son of Xiao Zhan and Wang Yibo.”
Yibo’s lips parted, but no words came.
His tears blurred his vision until he had to blink them away.
Zhan looked ahead, a distant sparkle in his eye.
“And as he grew, he called me Baba and you Pa. And he likes you a lot… the way a kid idolizes his superhero.”
He gave a small laugh, light and breathy.
Yibo chuckled too, more like an exhale.
“Me? A superhero?”
Zhan turned his head, smiling fondly.
“Mm-hm. Anyone who’s got a craze for cars and bikes and drives them fast? That’s a superhero in Zeyu’s eyes.”
Yibo raised a brow, intrigued.
Zhan continued, voice warm with amusement.
“He’s seen some old videos I kept… those nights on the street track, you on your bike. Just you, being yourself.”
He laughed a little, eyes glowing with nostalgia.
“He watches them like they’re action movies. Eyes wide, mouth open. Every single time.”
Yibo blinked slowly, stunned.
Zhan added, shaking his head with a little smile.
“And whenever I drive slow, he nags me. Tells me, ‘Pa runs faster than this. Go faster like him!’ Like my driving is too boring for him.”
Yibo gave a soft laugh, full of disbelief and warmth.
“Seriously?”
Zhan nodded, grinning.
“Dead serious. You’ve got fanboy status in our house, Bo.”
Zhan then went quiet for a moment, his voice softer when he spoke again.
“When Zeyu came into my life… I decided that he should know you. Just as much as he knows me.”
He shifted slightly, his fingers absentmindedly brushing over the fabric of the couch.
“Because… you’ve always been part of my life, Bo. No matter what happened. And that meant you’d always be a part of his, too.”
Yibo didn’t speak.
He only listened.
And breathed.
A little heavier now.
Zhan looked down at Yibo’s hand resting beside his.
Then, without a word he placed his hand gently over it.
His thumb rubbed slowly across Yibo’s knuckles, grounding him.
Zhan whispered.
“I made sure he’d know you… because he’s not just mine.”
He turned his head and looked at Yibo, eyes brimming with quiet certainty.
“He’s ours…”
Yibo stared at him, lips pressed tight, a thousand things burning behind his eyes.
Regret. Relief. Love.
Grief for the time lost… and hope for what still remained.
His throat worked, words caught in it.
When he finally spoke, it came out almost voiceless.
“I thought you might hate me… Forget me. Moved on.”
Zhan smiled gently, but his eyes shimmered.
“Bo… I could never forget you.”
Yibo’s jaw clenched faintly.
Zhan’s hand squeezed his.
“Because every time Zeyu smiled at me, or begged to hear your stories again and again, the one where Pa rides a bike faster than anyone in the world, I knew…”
He paused, his thumb resting lightly against Yibo’s wrist, as if holding on.
“…I knew we were never really alone. That no matter where you were, some part of you was still here with us. A small boy who had never even seen you in his life… somehow, unknowingly, he kept that love and hope alive in my heart.”
Zhan’s voice lowered, fingers idly brushing along Yibo’s fingers.
“So, when without even seeing you, Zeyu could love you so much… then me, who was with you and loved you for years, made all my most precious memories are with you…”
“How could I ever forget you, Bo? How could I move on?”
Yibo couldn’t hold back the tears anymore.
He looked away sharply, swiping at his face with the back of his hand.
“Why…”
Yibo breathed out shakily, voice cracking.
“Why do you love me so much, ge?”
Silence stretched, heavy and aching.
Zhan’s throat worked, his lashes wet, but no words came.
Instead, his hand reached out slowly and cupped Yibo’s face with a tenderness that trembled at the edges.
He turned him gently, forcing those stormy eyes to meet his.
For a long heartbeat, they only looked at each other… the weight of years, of pain and love, suspended between them.
Then Zhan leaned in, pressing a soft, deliberate kiss to Yibo’s lips… a kiss that was both answer and vow, carrying everything words could never hold.
A single tear slipped down Yibo’s cheek, warm against Zhan’s thumb as he wiped it away.
Zhan whispered against his lips.
“Because you are my everything. You’re my home. And I’ll love you until my last breath, Bo.”
He leaned back just enough to meet Yibo’s eyes again.
“And now… you’re everything to our son too.”
Yibo smiled through the haze in his eyes, helpless and full.
His fingers reached up and wrapped around Zhan’s wrist, holding it there like an anchor.
That moment didn’t need more words.
The silence between them wasn’t empty.
It was full of history, heartbreak, something tender, fierce and beautiful that had survived it all.
Andin that silence, their foreheads touched, breaths mingling and then… softly, inevitably, they kissed.
Slow. Certain.
Not as if they had found each other again, but as if they had never truly let go.
A kiss that carried years of ache, forgiveness, and love… sealing the truth that they had always been each other’s home.
[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 