In Between Us || Zhanyi

|| 04 ||

The distance between him and Zhan deepened from their wedding night only. Yibo sat stiffly at the edge of the bed, his fingers clutching the hem of his robe so tightly that his knuckles turned white. The silence of the wedding chamber was suffocating, broken only by the soft rustle of fabric as Zhan entered the room. Yibo's breath hitched. His heart raced uncontrollably, pounding in his chest like a trapped bird.

What am I supposed to do?

His mind spiraled with confusion and fear. This wasn't just Professor Zhan, the man he admired from afar. In this close room, away from all eyes, this Zhan was, his husband now. The realization gripped him harder than he expected. How was he supposed to act? How did one behave as a spouse, not just a student? Was there some unspoken protocol he should follow, something he should know? What does Zhan expect him to do? Questions raced through his mind, and no matter how much he tried to steady his breathing, the panic rose.

His heart pounded in his chest, each beat like a drum in the silence that filled the room. His hand itched in nervous, toes curled against the cold floor. The air felt heavy, and the faint rustle of Zhan's footsteps as he walked inside only made it worse. Yibo's stomach twisted in knots, a rising tide of nervousness he couldn't suppress.

Zhan's footsteps were measured and calm, so unlike the frantic panic swirling in Yibo's mind. Each step brought him closer, and Yibo's body tensed more with every inch Zhan closed between them. He didn't dare look up. He stared at his lap, his vision blurring slightly as his eyes focused on the trembling hands in his lap.

When Zhan finally stopped in front of him, Yibo's heart stopped for a moment, then resumed beating at a frantic pace. He could feel the weight of Zhan's gaze on him, assessing him, maybe even judging him. Yibo swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry. He was used to this feeling—the sense of inadequacy, of being small in front of someone who was everything he wasn't.

Yibo felt the bed dip slightly as the man sat beside him, and his body instinctively jittered, waiting—waiting for whatever would come next. He didn't know if he should speak, or what words could even come out of his mouth. His mind was blank, filled with nothing but the loud, erratic thudding of his heartbeat.

Zhan's hand reached out, and Yibo stiffened, his muscles locking up as he felt fingers brush against his hand. He flinched, but didn't pull away, his mind screamed at him to move, to do something, anything. But he stayed still, as if frozen, just like he always had when faced with something beyond his control. Endure. Don't ask. Don't question. He was used to that, wasn't he? Letting things happen, waiting for them to be over, accepting whatever came his way.

Zhan's touch was soft, barely there, but it sent a wave of anxiety crashing through Yibo. Zhan's fingers grazed above his arm, and Yibo swallowed hard, his throat tightening as he felt his skin heat up. He couldn't control his body's reactions—how his nerves felt like they were on fire, every sensation heightened to a point that made him uncomfortable. His body as if going numb, though he tried not to let it show. He couldn't let Zhan know how nervous he was. He couldn't let his fear surface. Zhan's fingers slid over Yibo's, a slow, deliberate caress. Yibo's stomach twisted. This is it. It's happening. Stay still.....

Zhan gently lifted his chin, forcing Yibo to meet his gaze, it was like facing a storm. Zhan's eyes were warm, not cold or detached like Yibo expected, but that made it worse. It confused him. He couldn't look at Zhan without remembering the professor he used to admire—the professor whose recognition he craved, and whose gaze always seemed so far above him. Now that gaze was fixed on him with something deeper and unknown, and it made his chest ache.