In Between Us || Zhanyi

|| 64 ||⚠️

[A/N: I understand the story is slow paced but hope the reader of the story by now understand the arc and respect the pace as for me it is like a fine art which I wish to be a masterpiece, this is the only story currently carry me own taste....the way I see people, I see relationships.......deep, raw, vulnerable and yet strong enough to survive strom, fight against any wall......but that trust, that bond takes time.

Definitely, I won't ask you to stay here if have other views though but if you are here, all I can say is Thank you❤️ 

I also got some beautiful texts how readers feels to the character, appreciated and so forgive if today's chapter disappoint you...you are going to read something disturbing.... 

~~~4.5K words, Long Chapter]

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Zhan placed the small tablet into Yibo's palm, then offered the glass of water. Yibo swallowed obediently, throat tightening against the bitterness that lingered. When he handed the glass back, his fingers fidgeted with the edge of the blanket. He hesitated—voice dropping low, almost reluctant.

"I... need to use the washroom."

Zhan's gaze flicked toward him, steady, unreadable, but in the subtle shift of his body, his intent was clear. He bent slightly, already sliding an arm beneath Yibo's knees as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Yibo's eyes widened. He knew what was coming, and panic rose in his chest at the thought of being carried like some fragile thing. "Wait—no, no, don't—" His hands pressed against Zhan's chest in sudden panic. "I'll walk." His tone was hurried, edged with a stubborn plea, clinging to that fragile thread of independence he refused to let go of.

For a heartbeat, silence stretched between them. Zhan studied him carefully—the stubborn set of his jaw, the faint tremor in his fingers, the pallor that hadn't yet left his skin. Then, with a small, patient nod, he stepped back. "Alright. Walk."

Relief surged through Yibo. He pushed back the covers, planting his bare feet onto the floor. The coolness of the tiles jolted him awake, and for a fleeting second, he believed he could manage. He gripped the edge of the bed, drawing in a deep breath as he pushed himself upright.

But the illusion broke instantly. His legs wobbled like reeds in wind, his body suddenly heavy, head frighteningly light. The room swayed, unsteady and graceless, and his fingers clawed tighter at the sheets in vain.

And then—before he could stumble, before panic could even reach his lips—strong arms caught him.

No words. No hesitation.

Zhan lifted him in one smooth, unyielding motion, cradling him as though he were weightless.

Yibo's breath hitched in surprise, his body caught off guard. His cheek brushed along the line of Zhan's jaw, warm and faintly rough, and he froze for a second, uncertain what to do with the closeness. His hand landed against Zhan's chest for balance—solid, steady, rising and falling with each calm breath.

For a moment, Zhan stilled. The world seemed to hold its breath with him. His gaze lowered, dark eyes catching Yibo's wide ones, and in that suspended instant, the air thickened with something neither of them dared name.

"Let me.....please~~~" Zhan whispered, voice so low it seemed meant for Yibo's ears alone.

Yibo's lashes fluttered, his throat tight. Something in the tone loosened him, and almost before he realized it, his head tipped forward, settling against the side of Zhan's neck. The scent of clean soap and faint traces of tea clung to him, grounding and strangely comforting.