FORBIDDEN

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 6

Monday came too quickly.

The alarm clock blared at 6:00 a.m., dragging Zhan from the cocoon of warmth he'd built over the weekend. He blinked blearily at the ceiling, momentarily disoriented. It took him a moment to remember he wasn't at home, that the hum of the city outside wasn't the same as the rustling trees from his small-town apartment.

And then he remembered the weekend—warm porridge, bad movies, soft jokes, and Yibo.

He glanced across the room. Yibo was already up, dressed in a crisp white shirt and black jeans, fixing his hair in the mirror. It struck Zhan again how effortless Yibo looked in the morning—cool, composed, every bit the campus heartthrob everyone whispered about.

"Morning," Zhan mumbled, stretching.

Yibo turned slightly. "You've got ten minutes before we have to leave."

"Dictator."

"Sloth."

Zhan smiled at the familiar banter and rolled out of bed. The weekend had been... surprisingly peaceful. It had been a pause.

And now, real life is back.

—

Campus buzzed with renewed energy. Students filled the hallways, laughing, chattering, catching up on gossip. Zhan walked a few steps behind Yibo, his own bag slung casually across his shoulder, trying not to draw attention.

But attention followed Yibo everywhere.

Girls giggled as he passed. Guys nodded in that unspoken way of approval. Someone even tried to hand him a bento box.

Zhan watched with a small grin as Yibo politely refused.

"Popular guy problems," he teased when they finally reached the safety of their classroom.

Yibo groaned. "They're exhausting."

Zhan took his seat by the window. "Oh, to be admired."

"You're admired," Yibo said, offhanded.

Zhan blinked. "By who?"

Yibo didn't answer. Just shrugged and pulled out his notebook. But there was a faint curl at the edge of his lips.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Classes passed like a blur. Professors droned. Pages flipped. Pens scribbled.

But something about being back in class, sitting beside Yibo, made the day feel less monotonous. Even when they didn't talk, there was a quiet awareness. Like a tether.

During their lunch break, they ended up under the same tree near the literature building. It was a spot neither of them claimed officially, but they always ended up there.

Zhan picked at his sandwich. "Are we still pretending?"

Yibo looked up from his phone. "Pretending what?"

Zhan gestured vaguely. "You know... the whole dating thing."

Yibo's expression didn't change. "Do you want to stop?"

Zhan thought for a moment. "No. I just... I thought maybe we'd define the rules better now that we're not in a weekend bubble."

Yibo nodded slowly. "Okay. Rule one: If anyone asks, we're still together."

Zhan smirked. "Rule two: You have to carry my books sometimes. Make the boyfriend role believable."

Yibo rolled his eyes. "I'm not your assistant."

"You could be."

"I'm not."

Zhan laughed.

Yibo looked at him for a beat longer than necessary. "Rule three: Don't fall in love with me."

Zhan blinked. "Too late."

Yibo's brows lifted.

"Just kidding," Zhan added quickly, biting into his sandwich.

Yibo said nothing. Just looked away, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The afternoon separated them. Zhan had his elective class—Modern Asian Literature. Yibo went to basketball practice. Still, their paths lingered in each other's heads.

Zhan sat near the back of his class, doodling little trees and eyes in the margins of his notes. The professor discussed postcolonial narratives, but Zhan's mind wandered to Yibo's face under the morning sun, the way his laugh sounded when he wasn't guarded.

There was something comforting about it. Not loud or overwhelming—just quiet familiarity.

After class, Zhan passed the gym. He paused for a second, peeking through the glass window.

Yibo was on the court, completely in his element. He moved with precision, confidence, ease. A group of students had gathered at the bleachers, watching. Some were obviously there for the game. Others? Probably just for Yibo.

Zhan smiled to himself and kept walking.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That evening, Zhan lingered at the library. He didn't need to study, not really. But the hush of the space helped him think. He found a quiet corner, opened a poetry anthology, and let the words drift over him.

When he finally stepped outside, the sky was a canvas of peach and lavender.

Yibo was waiting by the front gate, one hand in his pocket, the other scrolling through his phone.

"You waited?" Zhan asked.

Yibo looked up. "Didn't feel like going home alone."

They walked in silence, the kind that didn't need to be filled. Their steps were slow, almost synced, as if the world had agreed to slow down for just a bit.

"I saw your fangirls today," Zhan said casually.

"I saw you ignoring them." Yibo replied.

"I'm not the jealous type."

Yibo side-eyed him. "Liar."

Zhan grinned. "Fine. I'm selectively jealous."

They turned the corner toward their apartment. Lights flickered on in nearby windows. Someone was grilling something down the block. It smelled like home.

Zhan kicked at a pebble. "You know, Mondays usually suck. But today didn't."

"Same," Yibo said.

Zhan looked over. "Thanks for not letting the weekend end too abruptly."

"You're welcome," Yibo replied. "And hey... I kind of like this pretending thing."

Zhan chuckled. "Me too. Maybe we keep pretending. Just a little longer."

Yibo didn't answer right away. His hand brushed lightly against Zhan's as they turned the last corner. Not enough to say something. Just enough to mean it.

Yibo nodded. "Slow and steady."

And just like that, the day ended the way it began—without drama, without noise. Just the quiet unfolding of something unnamed.

Still pretending. Still not quite real. But maybe not entirely fake anymore either.

Maybe this was the part where pretending stopped mattering. And the feeling started to stick.

Zhan didn't need fireworks. Just this.

A walk home.

A shared silence.

A heartbeat slowly syncing with another.

He could live with that.

END OF CHAPTER 6