One More Time
[📘 Content Warning:
This story contains Boys’ Love (BL) themes. Reader discretion is advised. Please read the disclaimers mentioned in the Instagram post.]
The early sunlight crept in through the half-drawn curtains, painting the walls in streaks of gold and warmth.
They didn’t know when the night ended.
Somewhere between the laughter, the quiet tears, and the whispered memories, sleep had found them, soft and unannounced.
Yibo’s head had gently slumped onto Zhan’s shoulder, breath warm and steady, while Zhan had leaned back against the couch, neck bent awkwardly but too tired to care.
It was Zeyu who woke them.
“Baba… Baba! Wake up, it’s morning.”
Came the tiny voice, accompanied by a small hand shaking Zhan’s arm insistently.
Zhan stirred, his lashes fluttering open, eyes squinting against the light.
A soft hum escaped his throat as he straightened his neck.
Beside him, Yibo blinked awake too, face crumpled in sleepy confusion before he fumbled for his phone.
“8:30 already.”
He mumbled, running a hand through his flattened hair.
Zhan let out a low groan as he stretched his arms, joints popping.
He looked down at Zeyu first, offering a sleepy but warm smile.
“Good morning, Zeyu… How are you feeling now, Baobei?”
Zeyu grinned, full of energy.
“Good morning Baba. I’m okay. No pain!”
Zhan gave a relieved nod and kissed his forehead lightly.
Then Zeyu turned his gaze toward Yibo, his smile even wider.
“Good morning, Pa.”
Yibo’s heart gave a little lurch.
That word again… Pa.
It still didn’t feel real but it also felt… perfect.
“Good morning, Baobei.”
Yibo said, his voice unsteady with joy.
He smiled so wide his cheeks hurt.
Zeyu wasted no time.
He clambered up onto the couch, plopping himself squarely in Yibo’s lap as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
His little hands balanced on Yibo’s chest, and he leaned into the comfort instinctively.
Zhan raised a brow in amused surprise.
“Wow! Already switched teams, huh?”
Yibo chuckled.
“Let him be, ge. He’s been with his Baba all this time… now it’s Pa’s turn, right, Zeyu?”
Zeyu looked up at him with a grin and nodded with full approval.
Zhan smiled fondly, shaking his head.
“Alright, alright. Come on, Zeyu. Let’s brush your teeth, take a bath, and then go for breakfast.”
“I know a good place nearby, ge.”
Yibo chimed in as Zhan gently lifted Zeyu off his lap.
Zhan nodded.
“Sounds good. We’ll get ready first.”
By ten, the trio was dressed and ready.
Zhan had put Zeyu in a soft oatmeal sweater and jeans, his hair neatly combed down.
Yibo’s phone buzzed, an update about Zhan’s car.
“They said it’ll take some more time to repair.”
Yibo reported.
Zhan shrugged.
“No rush.”
They walked together to the restaurant, not far from the house.
It was a cozy, sunlit corner place with big windows and the smell of fresh steamed buns and soy milk floating in the air.
A simple, peaceful morning… Zeyu’s first breakfast with both his dads.
They ordered a quiet, comforting spread.
Steamed dumplings and egg pancakes with hot jasmine tea for Zhan, a plate of pan-fried buns and crisp scallion pancakes with strong coffee for Yibo, and a small plate of fresh fruit slices and a soft steamed egg custard drizzled with light soy alongside a cup of warm almond milk for Zeyu.
Yibo couldn’t take his eyes off him.
Every little movement fascinated him… the way Zeyu sat straight, used his spoon and fork carefully, how he didn’t talk with his mouth full, how he finished everything on his plate.
“You taught him well.”
Yibo murmured, glancing at Zhan.
Zhan smiled, helping Zeyu hold his cup of almond milk.
“He’s a fast learner.”
Yibo leaned forward, playful now.
“So, Zeyu… do you go to school?”
Zeyu lifted his chin from the plate and shook his head.
“No, Pa. I have a home teacher. She teaches me at home.”
Zhan added.
“I’ll send him to school next year. I thought until five, let him enjoy life freely. No rush to grow up.”
Yibo nodded, understanding more than agreeing.
“Makes sense.”
He hesitated for a moment, then asked gently.
“So… what do you want to be when you grow up, Zeyu?”
The little one blinked, lips still wet as Zhan tilted the glass for him to sip again.
Then he looked up at Yibo, eyes bright.
“I want to be you when I grow up, Pa.”
Yibo froze.
Fork halfway to his mouth, he stared.
“Me?”
He managed.
Zeyu nodded eagerly, cheeks puffing as he grinned.
“Yes! When I grow up, I’ll open a biggg garage.”
His little arms stretched wide to show just how big.
“And then I’ll ride bikes and cars soooo fast, just like you.”
He giggled at his own imagination, then looked straight at Yibo.
“Baba said you’ll teach me how to go fast. Will you, Pa?”
Yibo’s throat tightened.
Speechless, he turned to Zhan.
Zhan only smiled, calm as ever, wiping Zeyu’s lips with a napkin.
He didn’t mind Yibo’s silence.
Instead, he glanced at him and said softly.
“Remember? Your future race champion.”
A helpless smile tugged at Yibo’s lips.
“Sure.”
He whispered, reaching over to ruffle Zeyu’s hair.
“Pa will teach you how to ride fast.”
Zeyu’s delighted giggles filled the room as he popped another piece of fruit into his mouth.
For a long moment, Yibo didn’t say anything.
He couldn’t.
The emotion sat too heavy in his chest, pushing up into his throat.
He looked between Zhan and Zeyu and back again.
In their faces, in the quiet ease around this table, the truth settled in him with unshakable clarity.
He had a son.
He had a family.
Not just in some imagined future… but here, right now, in the sunlight, with nothing to chase and nothing to hide from.
Zhan looked down at their son and smoothed a hand over his hair.
Yibo watched, overwhelmed by something sacred he didn’t know he could still receive in this life.
And as Zeyu looked up at both of them with an easy, innocent smile, Yibo finally smiled too… eyes wet, heart full.
Zhan caught the look and raised his brows in quiet question.
Yibo only shook his head with a small smile, as if to say nothing at all.
But inside, the truth unfurled.
He hadn’t been forgotten.
He hadn’t been alone.
Somewhere, all this time, two hearts had been carrying him forward… quietly, lovingly and without pause.
————————————————–
They returned from breakfast with full stomachs and warm hearts, the quiet comfort of dumplings and tea still lingering in the air as they stepped into Yibo’s small but sunlit home.
The morning light slanted across the living room floor in golden beams, pooling at the edges of the rug where little Zeyu was already kneeling in front of the coffee table, completely absorbed in his toys, his tiny cars and building blocks arranged in messy rows.
Zhan had slipped into the bedroom to take a few work calls, his voice low and professional, carrying faintly into the room.
Meanwhile, Yibo sat nearby, lounging on the carpet, one arm propped on the couch as he watched over Zeyu.
The boy made occasional engine sounds under his breath.
His face scrunched in intense concentration as he zoomed a blue car across a pillow ramp.
Yibo found himself smiling.
Babysitting, unexpectedly, didn’t feel like a chore.
It felt… grounding.
Maybe even good.
Maybe even something he could get used to.
“Pa…”
Zeyu asked suddenly, not looking up as he adjusted a toy truck on its side.
“Do you still go for races?”
Yibo blinked, then chuckled.
“No, Zeyu. I don’t have time for all that anymore.”
Zeyu’s small shoulders slumped, disappointed.
“Baba showed me videos of you. You were so cool, riding the bike really fast like…”
“wroom…. wroooom!!”
He made an exaggerated noise.
Yibo laughed, his heart catching at the sound.
He reached forward and scooped Zeyu up from the rug with ease, settling him on his lap.
“You like bikes so much, huh?”
Zeyu nodded enthusiastically.
“Yes, Pa! I love bikes. And cars too. I wanna go fast like you. But Baba drives so slow, especially when I’m there.”
Yibo smirked, eyes softening.
“Mmm… your Baba used to scold me too, you know. For riding too fast.”
They both grinned… one small and innocent, the other shadowed with old memories and affection.
Then Zeyu looked up again, eyes gleaming with hope.
“Pa, will you take me for a ride on your bike?”
Yibo didn’t hesitate.
“Of course, Baobei. Anything for you.”
He hugged Zeyu from behind, holding him tight against his chest, cheek brushing against soft, messy hair.
The boy leaned into it naturally, like he belonged there.
Zhan emerged from the hallway just then, phone no longer in hand.
He paused for a second, taking in the sight on the floor.
Their son nestled into Yibo’s lap, Yibo holding him like he was the most precious thing in the world.
The warmth of the scene hit something deep in Zhan’s chest.
He quietly walked over and sat beside them.
“Baba!”
Zeyu chirped.
“Pa said he’ll take me for a bike ride!”
Zhan smiled, brushing a strand of hair from Zeyu’s forehead.
“Did he now?”
Zeyu nodded proudly, but his joy dimmed as Zhan glanced at the time.
His voice softened.
“Zeyu, we need to go back soon. Nainai and Aunt Yue are waiting. And…”
His gaze shifted to Yibo.
Yibo was already looking away, sadness clouding his face.
Zhan looked back at Zeyu, then said gently.
“…we have to go home to Amsterdam, Baobei. Baba has to go to work.”
Zeyu’s face dropped instantly.
He turned to Yibo, confusion etched into every line of his little face.
Yibo forced a smile and leaned in to press a soft kiss to his head.
Yibo’s voice was low.
“Zhan-ge… do you really have to leave today? Can’t you stay another day?”
Zhan sighed, eyes heavy.
“Bo… we were supposed to leave yesterday. Ma and Yue are already getting worried. And I have deadlines, I’ve already taken too many days off for Ba’s funeral. I hadn’t planned to stay this long.”
Yibo didn’t answer.
His chest ached.
Then, a small voice broke the silence.
“Pa…”
Zeyu turned in Yibo’s lap, eyes wide.
“…you’re coming with me and Baba, right?”
The question hit Yibo like a punch to the chest.
He froze.
His eyes slowly drifted to Zhan’s, and there it was again… that silent question in Zhan’s gaze.
The same one he had asked six years ago.
Yibo looked away, unable to answer.
Zhan read the silence for what it was.
He stepped in gently, voice low.
“Baobei… Pa can’t come with us right now. It’s not that easy.”
Zeyu blinked.
His lip trembled.
And then, as if something inside him suddenly gave way, he burst into tears.
“No, Baba! Let’s take Pa with us! He said he’s not going away now… right, Pa?”
His little face tilted up, eyes shining with desperate hope as he looked at Yibo.
Tears rolled down his cheeks, fat and glistening.
Yibo’s heart cracked in two.
He cupped Zeyu’s face quickly, wiping his tears.
“Zeyu… please, don’t cry, baobei…”
But Zeyu was already clutching Yibo’s arm tightly, sobbing into it.
“Pa, tell Baba you’re coming! Please, tell him… you promised.”
Zhan leaned forward, his own heart in shreds.
“Zeyu… my dear, don’t cry, okay? You’re a good boy, right?”
Zeyu looked up at him with tear-streaked cheeks, sniffling.
“Come here.”
Zhan whispered as he gently lifted him from Yibo’s lap.
Zeyu slid into his arms, and Zhan held him tight, the boy’s head tucked beneath his chin, tiny shoulders still shaking.
Zhan looked up at Yibo over Zeyu’s head.
And without words, his eyes echoed their son’s question.
Yibo still couldn’t speak.
Then, Zhan said quietly.
“Bo… once, I asked you to come with me. You refused. Now your son is asking you. And… I don’t want to pressure you.”
He paused, eyes softening.
“But you need to know… you have a family. You have a son. You have me, who never stopped loving you, and Zeyu, who never stopped waiting for you.”
Yibo swallowed hard, blinking away tears.
His voice was barely there.
“Ge… I don’t know what to say. But…”
Zhan cut in gently.
“It’s okay… I’m not trying to force you. It’s your life. But… we can’t stay, we have to go. And don’t worry, I’ll make Zeyu understand. That’s what I’ve been doing all these years.”
He gave a small, painful smile.
Just then, Yibo’s phone rang.
A call from the garage, his car was ready.
The moment passed in silence.
Zhan carried Zeyu back into the bedroom to start packing.
Yibo sat motionless on the couch, his heart a storm of thoughts, grief, longing, fear.
Then his eyes drifted across the room to Zeyu’s scattered toys.
Slowly, he got up and knelt down, gathering them one by one.
He slipped them back into the toy bag with a heart that felt like it was breaking all over again.
By the time he reached the last toy, his vision was blurred, the bag holding more than plastic and fabric… it was holding the weight of a son he didn’t know when he would see again.
An hour later, Zhan’s car pulled up outside.
The luggage was loaded.
Zeyu was calm now, but quiet.
His mood dulled to a silent ache.
Yibo carried him to the car, holding him close.
At the curb, before handing him over, he kissed Zeyu’s forehead gently.
“I’ll see you again, Baobei. Promise.”
Zeyu nodded, lips still pouted, his tiny arms tightening around Yibo’s neck before he leaned in and planted a soft kiss on his cheek.
“Bye-bye, Pa.”
The little voice echoed through him.
His hands lingered a moment longer than they should have, as if trying to memorize the weight of that small body against his chest.
Then, with a shuddering breath, he handed him over to Zhan.
Zhan carefully buckled Zeyu into the passenger seat, then turned to Yibo.
He smiled… soft and bittersweet.
“Bo… it was so good to see you again. These years without you… they’ve been heavy.”
His lips curved in a faint, fragile smile.
“I just want you to remember one thing… you’re not alone. You still belong with us. You have a place in our home, in our lives. And if ever you feel ready to come back to us… don’t hesitate. Our son’s waiting… and so am I.”
Zhan’s voice wavered at the edges, and Yibo felt the weight of every word.
Without warning, Yibo pulled Zhan into a hug.
Tight. Desperate.
A single tear slipped down his cheek, mirrored by one of Zhan’s.
They held each other like that for a long moment, like the world had gone still around them.
Then Zhan pulled back with a deep breath.
Without looking back, he got into the driver’s seat.
Zeyu waved a little flying kiss to his Pa.
Yibo waved back, hand trembling.
Zhan nodded at him once, after starting the engine.
And then the car rolled forward, taking with it everything Yibo had dared to let himself feel again.
He stood at the edge of the road, frozen, watching them disappear down the street.
It felt like all the joy he’d rediscovered overnight had been ripped away just as suddenly.
And he didn’t know how to breathe through the emptiness it left behind.
——————————————
Zhan’s hand tightened faintly on the wheel as he glanced at the rearview mirror.
Yibo’s figure lingered there for a fleeting moment before shrinking, fading, disappearing.
And with every inch the car carried them forward, something in Zhan’s chest ached so badly it felt like it might tear apart all over again.
Zeyu sank low into the seat, shoulders hunched, lips pressed tight, as though holding back more sobs.
He was quiet.
Zhan glanced at him from the driver’s seat, eyes soft as he reached over to smooth a hand gently over his son’s knee.
“It’s okay, Baobei.”
He whispered.
Zeyu sniffled, blinking hard, but leaned into the touch, letting his tiny fingers wrap around Zhan’s hand.
Zhan’s hand lingered on Zeyu’s knee, but his gaze dropped to the wheel, the words trembling faintly as if they were meant more for himself than for his son.
The air was heavy but not empty.
But between the silence, a fragile truth remained.
At least… at least Zeyu met his Papa.
And for Zhan, that truth was a small kind of peace.
Even if his heart was quietly breaking.
[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 