In Between Us || Zhanyi

|| 55 ||

The room was quiet — not the hush of midnight, but the mellow stillness of a late afternoon wrapped in drowsy light.

Sunlight filtered through the curtains, soft and golden, casting shifting patterns on the floor. The faint rustle of leaves swayed beyond the window, shadows dancing across the edge of the bed. A distant car horn, a bird calling once and gone — the kind of soundscape that came with late hours of a slow day.

Zhan had drifted off sometime around noon, fighting the fatigue that clung to his bones like fog. His head rested against the mattress edge, fingers loosely laced with Yibo's, refusing to let go even in sleep. His breathing was deep, steady, but his brow still furrowed — as if even unconsciousness hadn't managed to undo the knot inside him.

Time moved without urgency. Nothing rushed.

And then —

Yibo stirred.

Just barely.

A slow flutter of his lashes. A faint crease between his brows as the light from the window softened its way across the room. For a long minute, he didn't move. His limbs were stiff, and his body felt sore, as if he had been dragged through something heavier than sleep.

The first thing he registered was the firm, unmoving grip around his hand, the weight of something pressing gently against it.

It took effort, but he blinked his eyes open, adjusting to the dimness. His vision swam before settling, and the first thing he saw was familiar ceiling. Familiar scent. Familiar warmth. His breath caught in his throat — it took only a second longer to realize where he was.

Zhan's room. Their room.

His lashes fluttered again.

How...?

It took him a moment, but as consciousness crept in, the events of yesterday started to flood back.

A flicker of memory surged forward — Zhan's grip on his wrist. The cabin. His outburst. That desperate moment when Zhan had almost... almost forced something, to make him understand something, his actions driven by something raw and ugly. But....... One.... One single, involuntary movement from him and Zhan stopped.

Yibo didn't remember what happened after that, only that exhaustion had swallowed him whole while he felt a familiar warmth cocooned him......he felt safe......protected.

When he had woken up, he was alone. In Zhan's cabin, but alone.

He had assumed Zhan had left.

So he had left, too.

The day passed in a blur—teaching his students, going through the motions. Returning to his dorm—

The blackout.

His breath hitched

His chest tightened as the memory of panic returned — the sheer helplessness, the darkness, his body hitting something hard—

He winced, fingers brushing the side of his forehead instinctively.

And then, nothing. A gap. Just blackness.

Yet now here he was, lying on their bed, warm under covers he didn't remember pulling up. Beside him, a soft weight tugged at his hand. He turned his head carefully.

His Husband.......Prof. Xiao.

Head bowed low, resting on their clasped hands. His brows drawn faintly together even in sleep, his lashes long against his cheeks. Zhan had fallen asleep there — watching over him. Waiting. Holding on. It almost felt like Zhan had clung to him even after losing the fight against exhaustion.