Work Text:
Ziyu's POV
I never thought that finishing a drama would make so emotional. It signifies ending, which unbeknown to me, consequently signifies the start of my aching heart.
Already few weeks has passed since the last of shooting. Yet, Tian have never contacted me again. I was confident that the moments we built in the set was enough to establish that we had something going on. That we built something genuine.
Honestly, who am I kidding? I convinced myself that there was this silent agreement between us that after we wrapped up the drama, we’d finally talk about what we are, or what we could be. I thought we were heading toward something real. Turns out I was wrong.
Very wrong....... apparently.
So I was planning to corner him with the help of my trusted staffs. My last hurray before deciding what to do with my feelings for him.
"Ziyu, are you really sure about this?"
I heard my manager asking me for the nth today. Their concern is valid because they knew that the man in question practically ghosted me. But for the name of love, I'm still fuckin doing this stupid shit just to be able to talk to this man.
I just nodded silently to my manager.
"You should head home first, I promise you I will not do this stupid shit again. Just...... give me this chance to talk to him and afterwards, you will never ever hear his name from my mouth again." I said firmly with conviction on my voice. And my manager seemes to take pity with my situation and so she left me alone in the hotel room.
I found myself contemplating why I am in this kind of predicament. Never imagined that loving can be this hard.
A few minutes after, I heard the door opened and I instantly knew it was Tian. We locked eyes and by the looks of it, he knew what I am here for.
"Nice to see you again, by the way," I said, each word dipped in the bitterness I’d been swallowing for weeks.
Tian didn’t even bother to sit down. He just stood there, arms crossed, like he couldn’t wait to leave.
"Ziyu… what exactly do you want from me?" he asked, voice flat. "Why am I here?"
That tone alone...so distant, so unfamiliar and stabbed deeper than any rejection could.
I took a breath that rattled in my chest. "I want an explanation. You disappeared. You cut me off. After everything that happened between us, I think I deserve at least that."
He scoffed, a humorless sound. "Between us? Ziyu, whatever you think that was… you misunderstood."
I stared at him, stunned. "Misunderstood?" My voice cracked. "You held my face like I was something fragile. You said things to me that—"
"Lines," he snapped. "Those were lines. Scenes. We were working. And if you took any of it as something else, that’s on you, not me."
The blow landed so sharply I actually stumbled back a step.
"I looked at you like that because the script demanded it," he continued, relentless. "I said those things because the camera was rolling. Don’t twist it into something else."
I felt something inside me tear.
"So none of it was real," I whispered.
"It wasn’t supposed to be," he replied, jaw tight. "And I don’t… I don’t want things to get complicated. I don’t want people assuming things. I’m not—"
He cut himself off, breathing harshly, choosing his words with painful precision.
"I’m not someone who… entertains those kinds of connections. With anyone. Ever."
My throat burned. "You could’ve just told me," I said. "Instead of vanishing and pretending like I never existed."
Tian finally looked me dead in the eye, and the coldness there crushed every sliver of hope I’d been clinging to.
"I thought disappearing was the cleanest option," he said. "I didn’t want to hurt you more by spelling it out. But since I’m here—fine."
Each word came sharp, controlled.
"I don’t want whatever it is you’re feeling. I can’t give you anything. And I don’t want anyone thinking there’s something going on, because there isn’t. There never was."
It felt like the walls were closing in on me.
"Say it clearly," I said, tears threatening but refusing to fall. "Just once. For the sake of my dignity."
Tian’s expression didn’t waver. "There is nothing between us. And I don’t want there to be."
My breath shattered.
All this time, I thought silence was painful. I was wrong. His words were infinitely worse.
I nodded, feeling my hands go numb. "Got it," I whispered. "Thank you for making it loud enough this time."
He opened his mouth maybe to soften it, maybe to take something back but I raised a hand.
"Don’t, you've said enough," I said.
The room was suffocating. My chest felt carved open. But at least I finally had my answer.
"Don’t worry," I said, my voice steady in the way heartbreak sometimes forces you to be.
"I’ve heard you clearly. Loud enough to carry me through the rest of my life, actually."
I swallowed hard, forcing the words past the tightness in my chest.
"After this, you won’t have to avoid me. You won’t have to run, or hide, or pretend I’m not in the same room. You’re free of all that. I’ll stay out of your way. Completely."
I gave him a small, painfully polite smile. For a split second, something flickered in his expression. Guilt, maybe, or regret, but he buried it quickly.
He didn’t look away this time. He simply stood there, staring at me like he was memorizing the damage he caused.
And somehow, that hurt even more.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
At the end of the day, everything is business
That's what I instilled in my mind for months after the shooting Revenged Love. I received a lot of love and knowledge from the drama but everything has to end.
And together with my feelings. Why the fuck does it have to be my co-star?
Right because its the best thing to fall in love with your co-star on your first ever project. And here I am, thinking of the bunch of gossip columns talking 'bout how Tian, the other main lead of the most trending BL drama of 2025, seen with a woman who's apparently his EX!
Great! If it is not the consequences of my own actions.
People kept saying time would help. Time heals, time softens, time closes wounds. But no one tells you that sometimes time does the opposite that it deepens the cuts, sharpens the empty spaces, turns missing someone into a habit you learn to live with.
I’d gotten good at pretending. Good at smiling for cameras, joking on set, nodding through meetings. Good at acting like I’d forgotten the hotel room, the coldness in Tian’s eyes, the way he said “nothing” like I was asking for the moon.
I lied to myself so well that I almost believed it.
Almost.
Tonight, the lie finally collapsed.
It started with something stupid. I found a scarf at the back of my closet, the one I’d worn the night he draped his coat over my shoulders because I was shivering. I’d forgotten it existed.
But the moment my fingers brushed the fabric, it was like my chest shattered inward. My breath stopped..... my heartbeat stuttered. And before I could blink the memory away, everything I’d worked so hard to bury surged up, monstrous and blinding.
I dropped the scarf like it burned.
And then my body moved on its own...knees giving away, palms hitting the floor hard enough that pain shot up my arms. I didn’t care. Anything physical was nothing compared to the storm tearing through my chest.
I tried to breathe, but the air refused to come. My chest tightened, constricting around a grief that had been waiting months to claw its way out.
“No—” I choked out, voice barely a sound. “Not..... not now.”
But the tears were already spilling over. Not quiet tears.
Not dignified ones.
These were the kinds that dragged themselves out from the deepest part of you...months of swallowed whimpers, months of forced smiles, months of pretending I hadn’t been destroyed by someone who walked away clean.
My hands curled into fists against the floor. I bent forward until my forehead touched the cold tile. And then I broke.
A sob ripped from my chest. Jagged, violent, raw enough to scrape the inside of my throat. I pressed my sleeve against my mouth to muffle it, but the sound still tore through the room, through me.
“I thought I mattered…”
My voice fractured mid-sentence.
“I thought there was something....anything....just for a moment”
My whole body shook. The grief felt physical, like claws digging into my ribs, like something inside me was trying to tear its way out.
“I should be over this,” I whispered, but the words came out as a plea, as if time itself could hear me and rewind.
“I should be done. Why am I still here? Why am I still hurting like it just happened?”
The tears wouldn’t stop. They poured until I was gasping, until the world around me blurred. I grabbed onto the edge of the sofa just to keep myself upright, but my arms gave out and I sank further, collapsing fully to the floor.
“I loved him,” I whispered.
“I loved him and he didn’t even hesitate to walk away.”
There.
The truth I’d never dared to say aloud. The truth that ripped me open the second it left my mouth.
My chest clenched so painfully I curled onto my side, curling in on myself like I could protect the bruised, ruined thing beating inside me.
It felt endless. Like months of pressure finally burst, like every suppressed emotion was flooding out at once. Every memory stabbed sharper. Every hope mocked me. Every version of him that I’d kept alive in my mind burned away in the harshness of reality.
Somewhere between the sobs and the shaking, a bitter laugh escaped me.
“How stupid... how stupid of me to believe… that he could ever choose me.” I whispered.
And that thought...that single, devastating thought, pulled the last strength from my body.
I cried until I was empty. Until my voice was gone. Until my tears soaked into the floor and my limbs refused to move.
Time hadn’t healed me. Time had just made me quieter about the hurt. But tonight, for the first time in months, I let myself feel the full weight of what I lost.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I used to think fame was a price I was willing to pay. But the past weeks taught me something different.
When people start treating you like an object, when they chase you into bathrooms, when they leak your flight details, when they follow your manager home, you stop feeling human. You start feeling hunted.
“Ziyu,” my new manager said, dropping a stack of printed schedules hacked by sasaengs. “Since you cut ties with your former agency, you need to make a choice. This is beyond the line. You’re not safe like this.”
I stared at the photos of my apartment building, time-stamped spots where they followed my assistant, screenshots of fan accounts bragging about tailing me through airports.
A coldness spread from my stomach to my chest.
“I didn’t think it would get this bad,” I whispered.
“That’s why you have to act now,” she said gently. “Before something irreversible happens.”
Something inside me cracked.
“It’s like they know everything,” I muttered. “Everything except how tired I am.”
Because no one knew that. No one cared enough to ask. Not even him. Not anymore.
THAT NIGHT
The back entrance of the building was nearly empty. I tugged up my hood, shoved my hands in my pockets, and walked fast, hoping the darkness would swallow me whole.
I turned the corner. And stopped breathing. Someone stood in the dim alleyway. Tall. Familiar.
Too familiar.
“Tian?” My voice was barely sound.
He stepped into the light. Eyes red. Face tight with worry.
Breathing unsteady like he’d been running.
“Ziyu,” he said, voice thick and shaking. “Thank God. You’re okay.”
My spine stiffened instinctively. “What are you doing here?” I forced out. “You shouldn’t be—”
“I know,” he said. “But I had to come.”
A laugh scraped out of me, brittle and exhausted. “Had to? Now? After months?”
He flinched like I slapped him.
“You disappeared,” I continued, the words spilling out, sharper with each breath. “Not a message. Not a call. Nothing. And now you show up because what? You heard gossip about my life falling apart?”
Tian stepped closer, voice low, trembling. “It wasn’t gossip. It was a report. Someone tried to follow you onto a plane.”
His throat bobbed painfully. “And when I read that, I—” He exhaled shakily. “I couldn’t breathe. I thought something had happened to you.”
“Well, something did.” I said bitterly, “something did.”
He froze.
“I got tired,” I whispered. “Tired of being chased. Tired of being watched. Tired of being alone. I'm tired of everything.”
His eyes collapsed right in front of me. A flash of raw regret crossed his face.
“Ziyu… please. I know I left. I know I fucked up. I know I hurt you in ways I can’t undo,” he said, voice breaking. “But when I heard what’s happening to you...I swear, I went insane. I realized I wasn’t avoiding pain. I was avoiding you. And it was the biggest mistake of my life.”
My chest tightened painfully.
“You don’t get to say that now,” I whispered.
He stepped closer. Close enough to feel his breath, shaky and warm.
“I’m not here to take anything from you,” he said quietly. “I’m not here to force forgiveness. I just… I need you to know this.”
His voice cracked. “I still care. I never stopped. Not even when I was stupid enough to walk away.”
Silence. Why the fuck is he even saying this?
“I will face the crowds,” Tian continued, desperation dripping into every word. “I will face the rumors. I will face whatever hell comes for us. Just....just let me try again. Let me stand beside you this time.”
I swallowed, throat tight. “You think showing up now fixes everything?”
“No,” he said instantly, eyes shining. “But I’m here. And I’m staying. Even if you push me away. Even if you slam the door in my face. Even if you never look at me the same way again.”
His voice dropped to a raw whisper.
“I’m not leaving you alone again. Not when the world is tearing pieces off you. Not when I should’ve been there in the first place.”
Something in me, some part that had been screaming silently for months finally broke.
A tear fell. Then another. Then I was sobbing in front of him, helpless and angry and relieved and grieving all at once.
“Why now?” I choked out. “Why did you come back now?”
Tian reached out, slow and hesitant, like he was touching something fragile.
“Because I realized losing you wasn’t something I could survive,” he whispered. “And I’m done pretending I can.”
The moment Tian said, “I’m done pretending I can live without you,” something inside me snapped.
Like a dam breaking after months of silence.
“Oh, fuck off,” I spat, voice shaking. Tian’s breath hitched.
“You don’t get to say things like that,” I continued, stepping back, fists clenched. “You don’t get to come back with pretty words after disappearing like I never meant anything!”
“Ziyu—”
“No!” My voice rose, echoing down the alley. “You don’t talk. You don’t get to talk before I’m done.”
Tian fell silent, chest heaving. Good. Because all the words I swallowed for months were clawing their way out.
“Where were you, Tian?” My voice cracked, but I didn’t stop.
“Where the hell were you when I was losing sleep every night? When people were banging on my hotel doors? When strangers were posting what seat I was in on flights? When I was fucking scared out of my mind?”
He winced but I pushed harder.
“You vanished. Like I was nothing. Like I was a job you clocked out of. Like.....like I wasn’t the person you” My voice broke. “the person you held like I mattered.”
Tian stepped forward, desperate. “I know I left. I know I failed. Ziyu, I’m trying to—”
“Trying?” I laughed a bitter, broken sound. “Trying NOW? After months? After I gave up hoping you’d give a goddamn shit?”
Tian’s expression twisted...hurt, guilt, panic. “I didn’t know how to come back to you,” he said, voice trembling. “Every day I wanted to reach out and I froze. I was scared that I ruined everything, scared you'd hate me, scared of the world watching—”
“And I was scared of being ALONE!” I shouted. My voice cracked so hard it almost hurt to breathe.
Tian’s eyes widened like he’d just now understood the depth of what he’d done.
But I wasn’t finished.
“You think it’s fucking easy?” My hands shook violently. “You think it’s easy pretending I’m fine while you’re out there pretending I didn’t exist?”
Tian ran a hand through his hair, frustrated at himself.
“You’re right. I don’t think it’s easy.... i know it’s not. And I hate myself for not being there. Every damn day, I regret it. Every day, I thought about calling, texting—”
“BUT YOU DIDN’T!” I screamed. “That’s the point! You didn’t choose me. Not once.”
Tian’s voice finally burst like something inside him tore open:
“I WAS FUCKING TERRIFIED!”
Silence slammed between us.
His chest was rising and falling rapidly. His voice was ragged, raw.
“I was scared of the attention. Scared of the rumors. Scared of losing everything I worked for.” he shook his head, pain twisting his features—“I was scared of how much I needed you.”
My breath caught.
He stepped closer, voice trembling. “I didn’t run because I didn’t care. I ran because caring about you felt like stepping off a cliff. And I panicked, Ziyu. I panicked like a coward.”
A harsh laugh tore from me. “You think that makes it better?”
“No,” Tian whispered. “It makes it worse. I know.”
He took another step. I stepped back.
“Do not come closer,” I warned, voice shaking violently.
“Ziyu…” His voice cracked. “Please.”
“No!” I shoved him, not hard, but enough to make my point. “You don’t get to touch me like nothing happened. You don’t get to show up and act like....like you deserve forgiveness.”
His eyes glistened. He didn’t wipe the tears. Good. Let him feel something real.
“I know I don’t deserve it,” he whispered. “But I’m begging anyway.”
My heart twisted painfully.
“You hurt me,” I said, voice breaking. “And I hate you for that.”
Tian closed his eyes like the words physically destroyed him.
“And I hate,” I continued, softer but burning, “that you think coming back now erases what you did.”
He opened his eyes....wet, desperate, pleading. “I don’t want to erase it,” he said. “I want to fix it. If you’ll let me.”
My throat tightened. “You can’t fix everything,” I whispered.
“Then let me fix something,” Tian said, stepping forward gently, slowly. This time, I didn’t move away.
“Let me at least stand with you now,” he whispered. “Let me protect you now. Even if all you give me is anger. Even if all you give me is distance.”
His voice lowered to a breaking point.
“I’ll take anything. Just don’t shut me out.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Tian started with silence. Because silence was the only thing he had left that wouldn’t scare me away.
A folded note appeared in my script bag one day. “You looked exhausted today. Please take care of yourself.”
I saw the handwriting and my jaw tightened. I tore the note in half. Then quarters. Then smaller pieces until it crumbled between my fingers like dust.
I threw it away with the same force I wished I could use on the feelings I never asked to have.
But later that night, when the apartment was dark and quiet and unbearably empty, my hands moved on their own.
I dug the pieces out of the trash. And stared at them, feeling something crack inside me.
The next morning, a cup of my exact coffee order appeared in the waiting room. No name. No note. No acknowledgment.
I didn’t touch it. I pretended I didn’t see it. I acted like it didn’t affect me at all. But every day, when wrap ended, the cup was gone. Emptied. And Tian never asked why.
The sasaeng harassment worsened. People followed my van.
Filmed me through tinted windows. Cornered me in airport bathrooms. Shoved staff out of the way just to snap a photo.
But somehow...security always intercepted them. Too quick and precise.
One of the guards slipped up once.
“He’s paying us to stay close, sir. But he said not to tell you.”
I froze.
Anger flared first—hot, sharp, defensive. Then fear.
Not of the sasaengs. Of the fact that Tian still cared.
I didn’t thank him. I would never thank him. I refused to give him anything he didn’t fight for properly back then.
A few nights later, nearly 2 a.m., I walked toward the basement parking lot, body shaking from fatigue. When the elevator doors slid open....Tian was there.
Cap low. Mask on. Hands shoved in his pockets, like he was afraid to reach out.
Not blocking me nor approaching. Just… waiting.
“Ziyu…” His voice was low, rough, painfully careful. “I hired extra security for you tonight. Someone followed you earlier. I didn’t want you alone.”
I glared at him, ice dipped in acid.
“You shouldn’t be here.”
“I know.”
“You’re complicating my work.”
“I know.”
“Then stop.”
And Tian....Tian, whose confidence once filled an entire room looked like a man torn open.
“I can’t,” he whispered.
I stepped past him without another glance. Inside the elevator, when the doors closed, I sagged against the wall, pressed a shaking hand to my mouth.
Because Tian’s voice...that trembling, wounded voice felt like a blade sliding between my ribs.
The next time we crossed paths, he walked past my open dressing room during a shoot.
I looked up. Just for a second. But that was enough.
I slammed the door so hard the walls shook.
It wasn’t maturity. It wasn’t calm. It was panic disguised as anger. I stood behind the door, breathing hard, heart pounding like it wanted out of my chest.
I hated him. I hated what he did. I hated how much I still cared.
A few days later, a staff member handed me a small box.
“No sender, sir. It was left at the front desk earlier.”
Inside the exact keychain of our drama characters. The one I lost, the one I searched for like a frantic child, the one I pretended didn’t matter.
My throat closed entirely. I touched the keychain like it was fragile, like it could break with a breath.
“Tian… stop,” I whispered, barely audible.
But I clipped it onto my bag anyway. I told myself I didn’t know why.
I knew exactly why.
The breaking point came at dawn.
I walked out of the studio, exhaustion so deep it felt like a fever.
Tian was waiting by the parking lot entrance. Leaning against a pillar, head bowed, like he’d been standing there for hours.
He straightened when he saw me. But he didn’t move closer. “Ziyu… can I talk to you for a moment?”
I kept walking. He stepped forward—not blocking me, just desperate enough to be reckless.
“Please.”
I stopped and slowly turned.
His expression was soft, desperate, and raw.
But my chest hardened.
“I know I can’t erase what happened. I know sorry means nothing now. But let me fix at least one thing—let me protect you from all this chaos.”
I stared at him. “Protect me?” I said softly. “You think protection is what I wanted?”
His breath shook. “Yes.”
“No,” I said, stepping closer. I looked furious. I looked hurt.
I looked like I’d been bleeding for months.
“What I wanted was for you not to disappear when everything became inconvenient.”
He flinched.
“You ran,” I continued, voice rising just enough to tremble.
“You left me to deal with the rumors alone. You pretended nothing happened between us. And now you show up with coffee and guards and gifts like you suddenly care again?”
“I never stopped caring,” he whispered, voice cracking.
“Caring isn’t the same as staying,” I snapped.
His jaw clenched. “I’m here now.”
“You’re late.” My voice dropped, deadly quiet. “And I don’t wait for people who show up only when they’re scared of losing me.”
I stepped past him... firm, final, unforgiving.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The night before the festival, I could feel every nerve in my body buzzing with tension. My phone buzzed again, another notification about a picture circulating online.
It was him—Tian—with his ex-girlfriend.....AGAIN! A casual shot, nothing scandalous, nothing intimate. I knew she was an ex. I knew they were over. But the fandom hadn’t moved on. Fans were still shipping, still speculating, still tagging my name in everything.
And now, with this photo floating around, all of it—my reputation, my image, everything I’d worked for—felt like it was crumbling.
Tian walked into the waiting room quietly, like he always did. Calm. Controlled. That calm should have been comforting. Tonight, it was infuriating.
“I saw the picture,” I said before he could speak, my voice sharp and tense.
His eyes softened. “Ziyu…”
“No! Don’t ‘Ziyu’ me,” I snapped, pacing. “Do you have any idea how much damage this does? People are seeing it everywhere. Comments, posts, speculation… it’s all about me now, Tian! Me! And it’s all because of you!”
“I… it’s nothing. She’s an ex—” Tian began carefully.
“I DON’T CARE!” I shouted, slamming my hand on the table. “It doesn’t matter! Fans are still obsessed. They tag me. They judge me. They twist everything I do. And now this picture—just a stupid, harmless picture—and suddenly I’m the villain again!”
Tian flinched at the volume. I knew I was hurting him. I could see it in his eyes—quiet, deep, almost shattering. But I couldn’t stop. My own anger, my own fear of what everyone thought of me, had taken over.
“I didn’t post it! I didn’t—” he started, voice low.
“You never think, do you?” I cut him off, voice trembling with frustration. “You think it’s fine because it’s ‘nothing.’ But it’s everything, Tian. Everything! Do you have any idea how humiliating it is to watch people twisting my life because of what you do?”
His jaw tightened. His lips pressed together, but he didn’t yell. He never yelled. That silence… that quiet, broken look in his eyes… it pierced me, but I ignored it, too consumed with my own panic and rage.
“I can’t keep pretending this is fine,” I continued, stepping closer. “I can’t keep smiling and performing while everyone thinks I’m… I don’t know, some kind of fool or joke because of your past! I work too hard to let some old… some ex… destroy that!”
Tian’s shoulders slumped. His eyes flickered with hurt I had no right to see.
“You…” I hesitated for a second, then the words spilled out, cruel and selfish. “You’re careless. You’re reckless. And it’s always me who has to pay for it.”
He flinched again. Not from my words. From me. From how I was looking at him, accusing him like he’d done something wrong when all he ever did was try to protect me, to be careful.
“I… Ziyu…” Tian said softly, voice breaking, almost whispering. “I was not the one who posted it. I'm sorry really... I didn’t intentionally hurt you…I—”
“Then why does it feel like you do?” I shot back, my voice cracking. “Every time something like this happens, it’s always… you! Always! You show up late, you do things your way, and somehow I’m left standing here, fixing the mess, pretending it’s fine, pretending it doesn’t hurt me!”
Tian’s eyes glistened. He opened his mouth, probably to argue, to explain, to defend himself—but I wasn’t listening. I couldn’t see him, not really. My own panic, my own fear of losing face, had consumed me.
“I don’t care about your feelings right now!” I yelled, stepping back, fists trembling. “I care about me! My reputation! My career! Everything I’ve worked for! And if people think I’m just some guy crushed by your past, fine! But I won’t let that happen!”
He didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Not a word. His silence… heavier than any shouting, more piercing than any accusation.
“You think you can just waltz around like nothing happened?” I snapped, taking a step closer. “Like the world owes you a pass because you’re ‘careful’ or ‘gentle’? Do you know how it looks? How it feels when people see you with her and then see me tagged in the comments, whispered about, mocked behind my back? It’s humiliating! And it’s your fault!”
“I… it’s nothing,” he began softly, voice careful, low.
“Nothing? NOTHING?!” I cut him off, voice rising. “You’re smiling, probably thinking it’s harmless, like it doesn’t matter, like the past means nothing! But I’m the one who has to deal with it. I’m the one who has to explain myself, to smile, to pretend everything’s fine, while the world laughs at me because of your past! And you just… do nothing. You don’t think! You don’t care!”
He flinched at the word, jaw tightening, eyes flickering. I could see him shrinking inside himself, trying to make himself smaller. That should have stopped me—but it didn’t.
“You’re reckless,” I spat. “Always so reckless. You do what you want, when you want, and I have to pick up the pieces. I have to protect myself from your life, from your choices, from you. And I’m sick of it. I’m done covering for you!”
“I—Ziyu…” His voice cracked, barely audible, trembling.
“No! Don’t even start defending yourself,” I snapped. “You have no idea what it’s like to constantly cover up, to protect myself, to shield my image because of your past! And I’m the one left to deal with it! Me! Not the fans, not anyone else—me! And I’m sick of it. I’m sick that it’s always me who suffers because of your choices, your history, your life!”
He opened his mouth, probably to defend himself, to tell me he didn’t mean it, to explain—but I cut him off, voice cracking with rage and frustration.
“I’m so tired of you pretending this doesn’t affect me! Pretending your life, your history, doesn’t hurt me! I don’t care how much you didn’t mean to! I don’t care! I can’t keep pretending I don’t feel humiliated, exposed, embarrassed, just because you didn’t think about me! You never think about me!”
I stepped back, trembling, chest heaving, as I watched him. His shoulders slumped, lips trembling. The wetness in his eyes—the betrayal, the hurt—it tore something inside me, but I didn’t stop.
“You… you’ve never considered what I feel!” I said, voice breaking. “All your patience, all your carefulness, it doesn’t mean anything if you let me look like a fool! And I can’t forgive you for that, not now, not ever. Not until you understand how much this… all of this… ruins me!”
He didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Not a word. Not a single flinch to defend himself. Just silence. Heavy. Crushing. The kind of silence that presses into your chest and leaves you gasping.
And that’s when it hit me. I had crossed a line I couldn’t come back from. Just a little too late, I realized I had really hurt him.
The man standing there… Tian. Careful, gentle, patient, endlessly patient. The one who had walked beside me through every mess I’d made, every rumor, every injury to my pride. He never yelled. He never forced his way. He never crossed boundaries I’d set. He had been steady, reliable, a harbor in my chaos… and I had shredded that trust with my own selfishness.
I saw it then the tremble in his lips, the shimmer in his eyes. He wasn’t crying, not yet. He never let himself. But I could see it. The weight of my words had landed like bricks on his chest, and he was bending under them. His gaze flickered toward me, desperate, searching, and I couldn’t bear it.
I wanted to reach for him, to fix it. To apologize. To tear out the words I’d thrown like knives and replace them with anything. I wanted to pull him into my arms, tell him it wasn’t true, that I didn’t mean it but I couldn’t. I had no excuse. I had been cruel, selfish, immature.
I could feel my chest tightening, each inhale sharp, uneven. My hands shook so violently that I couldn’t tell if it was anger, fear, or guilt, or all three twisting together inside me. And still, I couldn’t look at him. I couldn’t face the devastation I’d caused, not yet.
He just stood there, broken. Not loud. Not dramatic. Not explosive. Just… broken. And that sight, that quiet collapse of someone I loved and had relied on for months, stabbed me harder than any accusation from the world outside ever could.
I knew, in that moment, that my pride, my image, my petty panic over a picture… had hurt him more than anything I could imagine. More than the sasaengs, more than the rumors, more than the world spinning with gossip....it was me. My hands, my mouth, my fear, my selfishness.
And the worst part? I couldn’t fix it tonight. The festival was tomorrow. I had to put on a mask, smile, perform, pretend like I was untouchable, untarnished, while the one person I had truly hurt was standing there, silently bleeding behind his eyes.
I wanted to collapse. I wanted to swear I’d never hurt him like that again. But I didn’t. I couldn’t. Not yet. Not when the world was watching, not when the cameras, the fans, the crew, everything demanded perfection.
So I left. I turned my back on him. My chest was tight. My hands were shaking. Every step away from him felt like I was dragging a chain across my soul. I knew I had wounded him in a way that couldn’t be unseen, couldn’t be unsaid.
And that thought… that unbearable, burning thought… it consumed me entirely.
I left him standing there in the waiting room, silent, shattered, and I hated myself for it. Hated myself for letting fear, selfishness, and pride destroy the one thing that had never stopped caring for me.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I had convinced myself that after our fight last night, Tian wouldn’t show up at the festival. Not after the way I’d yelled at him, accused him, dragged him through insecurities that were mine to handle. I told myself he’d stay home tonight, letting the distance between us harden into the wall I probably deserved.
So when I stepped onstage, lights blazing and thousands screaming, I shoved everything....him, the guilt, the fight, into a locked box in the back of my mind. I performed like nothing inside me was breaking. Like my heart wasn’t still stuck in that waiting room where I’d left him standing alone.
But when the set ended and I walked backstage—sweat still cooling on my skin, my pulse still racing. I froze mid‑step.
He was there.
Standing in the shadow of a pillar, calm and composed as if nothing had happened. His arms crossed loosely, head slightly tilted, eyes trained directly on me. Silent. Still. Unmoving.
Not angry. Just… watching.
Watching me like he always did. Making sure I wasn’t alone.
My throat tightened painfully. Relief hit me so hard it almost knocked the breath from my lungs. Guilt followed instantly, sinking its claws into my ribs.
He didn’t speak to me. Didn’t walk toward me. Didn’t even look away. But my towel was ready, my water bottle opened and my jacket draped over the chair I always used. Placed early. Placed gently. Like nothing had changed.
And I hated myself for ever thinking he wouldn’t come.
The festival wrapped up. Lights dimmed. Staff scurried around packing equipment. I headed to the van, body heavy with exhaustion and nerves stretched thin, just wanting to go home and forget everything.
But we had barely turned onto the main road when I felt it.
A camera flash. A shape too close to the window. A shadow pacing the van. Another flash. Another click.
Cold dread crawled up my spine.
“Sasaengs,” I whispered, jaw clenching. “Not tonight. Please.”
Before the driver could accelerate, a pair of headlights swept behind us sharp, familiar, unmistakably deliberate.
A green sports car glided into position behind the van, following us like a silent guardian. My heart stumbled.
Tian.
He’d been following us this whole time...quietly. Watching from afar. Protecting me even after everything I said.
The sasaeng car switched lanes and tailed closer, phones out, windows down. And Tian reacted instantly.
His engine roared to life, and he surged forward, slicing between the van and the sasaengs with terrifying precision. He boxed them out, darting left and right, racing them like he was willing to destroy himself before he let them touch me.
The van shook as we sped up. My manager cursed. The driver swore. Panic filled the space like smoke.
But all I could see… was Tian.
My chest tightened painfully. No...he was going too fast. Too sharp. Too reckless.
“Tian” My hands fumbled for my phone, trembling so badly it nearly fell. I hit his number instinctively. “Tian, pick up...pick up, please—!”
He answered but didn’t speak.
The sasaengs surged forward, overtaking our van the moment they spotted Tian’s car. Beside us, his green sports car roared to life, relentless, every movement precise. He accelerated with laser focus, forcing the stalkers to push their own car just to keep up. No hesitation. No second thoughts.
I could see his reflection somehow now, his car gleaming under the streetlights, headlights cutting through the darkness. Tian was all intent, all focus—hands gripping the wheel. Nothing else seems existed in that moment to him—no fear, no distraction, no doubt.
Then, with a sudden burst of speed, he swerved, pulling level with the sasaengs’ car—neck and neck. Right in front of our van.
Every turn, every sharp maneuver forced them to react, inch by inch, driving them farther away from me. The night road became a high-stakes battlefield, the roar of engines and the screech of tires filling the air.
“Tian! Please, STOP!” I screamed into the phone, my voice cracking. “You’re going too fast! You’ll get hurt!”
But he didn’t slow. Not even a little. He was a storm on the road...silent, deliberate, deadly. Every dangerous maneuver pulled my heart into my throat.
“Tian, slow down! PLEASE!” I begged, tears blurring my vision. “You’re going way too fast! You’ll get into an accident, Tian, please!”
Still nothing.
He was too far gone in that protective instinct, so focused on keeping me safe that he didn’t see the way he was scaring me.
My breath broke apart. Tears spilled. My hands shook so violently I could barely hold the phone.
Seeing him risk himself like this, for me...terrified me more than any stalker ever could.
And then the dam inside me burst.
“Babe—JUST STOP!” I sobbed into the phone, voice raw, desperate. “COME BACK TO ME! PLEASE!”
This time…
He heard me.
The green sports car finally slowed, the engine’s roar easing into a steady hum. He let the sasaengs fall back, then disappear entirely. His car drifted toward our lane until he was riding parallel beside the van, close enough that I could see him through the tinted glass.
I pressed my palm weakly to the window, watching him drive like he was the only stable point left in my world. Guilt surged. Fear twisted. Relief made my lungs collapse.
He risked everything for me. Again. Even after I tore him apart last night. The realization hit me like a punch. No matter how cruel I had been, no matter how much I pushed,
Tian had never left me.
That kind of devotion… that terrifying, unconditional loyalty…
scared me more than the chase ever did.
The van fell into a slow, uneasy quiet, the kind that pressed against my lungs like a weight. My hands were still shaking in my lap, knuckles pale, breath unsteady. Every bump on the road made the remnants of panic flare in my chest—panic and something dangerously close to grief. I’d just watched him risk his life for me. And the reality of that was sinking in, cold and sharp.
I swallowed hard and pulled out my phone, my fingers trembling so badly I almost dropped it. I didn’t even think....I just whispered his name again. But this time it wasn’t fear that pushed me.
It was need.
“Tian?” My voice cracked. “Are you still there?”
There was a beat of silence, just long enough to make my heart lurch—
“Ziyu?”
The sound of his voice...calm, low, steady, made my eyes instantly burn.
“Oh thank God,” I whispered, breath shuddering out. “Are you… are you fine? Don’t scare me like that again.”
I hated how broken I sounded. But I hated even more how true the fear was, how violently I had feared losing him in the dark of that road.
He didn’t answer right away. There was a quiet pause, and I could almost imagine him gripping the wheel, breathing slowly, eyes still hard with everything he wouldn’t say.
Then, softly....too softly.
“Come home with me.”
I froze. Completely.
My breath hitched like someone had reached into my chest and pulled.
“W‑what?” I managed, voice trembling.
“Come home,” he repeated, slower now, deeper. “Right now. I don’t want you out there alone. Not like this. Just come home. Let me take care of you.”
My throat locked. My heartbeat stuttered. It was the gentleness in his voice that destroyed me...the way he asked like he wasn’t sure I’d say yes, like he still had space for me even after I’d hurt him.
“I… I don’t know,” I whispered, voice splintering. “After everything… Tian, I—”
He cut me off, but not sharply. Not angrily.
Just… quietly.
“Ziyu.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “Just… come home with me. Please.”
There was something in that “please.” Something raw, cracked, aching. Something that sounded like he’d been holding himself together all night just to make sure I was safe.
My breath trembled. My pride shattered. All the walls I’d built to protect myself crumbled in a single exhale.
Because even now—after everything—I needed him. And he still wanted me there.
Finally, so soft it barely existed, I whispered:
“…okay. I’ll come home.”
His inhale on the other line was subtle, but I heard it. Felt it. Like he’d been holding his breath this whole time.
“Good,” he said softly, steady now, a quiet warmth threading through every word. “Don’t rush. Don’t panic. Just breathe. I’ll be waiting.”
My lips parted, but no words came out. My vision blurred. I turned my head and pressed my forehead against the cold van window, letting the chill calm the fire in my chest as the first tears spilled over.
Relief. Guilt. Fear. Something unbearably close to love. They all crashed over me at once, leaving me shaking in the dim interior of the van.
For the first time that night, I let the truth settle.
I didn’t have to carry everything alone because Tian was still here. Still choosing me. Still waiting for me.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The van finally pulled up in front of Tian’s building. Streetlights cast soft halos across the pavement, the world outside settling into an almost eerie stillness after the chaos of earlier. My hands trembled around the seatbelt buckle, fingers cold and numb. My chest felt tight, too tight like it was shrinking inward. Tears kept slipping down my cheeks, warm and constant, leaving streaks I didn’t have the strength to wipe away.
The door of the van slid open.
And Tian was already there.
He didn’t storm toward me. Didn’t demand explanations. Didn’t ask why I had broken down on the phone or why I hadn’t been answering his messages these past few days. He simply stepped closer, calm and steady, his expression unreadable but his presence grounding me instantly.
One arm slid around my waist, firm enough to hold me up, gentle enough that it didn’t startle me.
“Easy,” he murmured, voice low and impossibly soft. “I’ve got you.”
The moment I leaned into him, my knees nearly buckled. The exhaustion I’d been pretending didn’t exist rushed through me like a tidal wave. My breath came out uneven, shaky. The world felt too loud, too sharp—everything except him. His warmth steadied me, anchored me, kept me from falling apart on the pavement.
We walked slowly toward the building entrance. Every step felt like I was dragging the weight of all the awful things I’d said, every argument I’d started, every fear I had thrown at him. But Tian stayed close, his arm around my waist guiding me. Not pushing, not pulling, just quietly supporting.
The door to his apartment opened with a soft, familiar click.
And then his voice followed, low and warm and absolutely certain, “Ziyu… come in.”
My breath hitched.
I froze in the doorway, my shoulders trembling as tears spilled over again, hot and helpless. My mouth opened to speak..to apologize, to explain, to beg but all that came out was a weak, shaky gasp.
Tian didn’t pressure me. He didn’t rush to fill the silence. He simply kept one hand on my waist, steady and patient, letting me gather whatever pieces of myself I still had left.
When I finally stepped inside, the scent of his home wrapped around me..soft, clean, faintly citrus. Home. Familiar. Safe.
And guilt hit me like a punch to the chest.
How many nights had he waited here, wondering if I would call? If I would come back? If I still wanted him?
He closed the door behind us gently. No frustration. No heavy sigh. Just a quiet click. He stepped back, giving me space, giving me a choice. But I didn’t make it far.
Halfway across the living room, my legs gave out, and I sank to the floor with a shaky thud. My hands flew to my face as a sob tore out of me—ugly, raw, impossible to hold back. Everything I had been holding inside for weeks poured out all at once.
“Tian” My voice cracked, barely recognizable. “I can’t....I’m sorry.... I—”
Before I could choke on the words, he was already kneeling beside me. No hesitation. No fear of my tears.
One hand slid to the back of my head, fingers threading through my hair. The other settled on my shoulder, warm and steady, grounding me instantly.
“Hey,” he whispered, leaning close, voice feather‑soft. “Ziyu… breathe. I’m right here.”
I folded toward him without thinking, collapsing against his chest. Another sob tore free, shaking my entire body. His arms wrapped around me instantly, heartbreakingly warm.
“I was so stupid,” I choked out, my voice trembling violently. “I hurt you. I yelled. I pushed and pushed and I... and you still.. you still—”
He shook his head immediately, pressing his cheek lightly to the top of my head.
“Ziyu… you were scared,” he murmured. “And scared people say things they don’t really mean.”
I sobbed. “At the time, I was angry. I was selfish. And I took everything out on you, and you.... you didn’t deserve that. You didn’t deserve any of it.”
His thumb brushed the back of my neck, slow and soothing. “You were hurting,” he whispered. “And you didn’t know what to do with the pain.”
“That doesn’t make it okay,” I whispered, voice cracking.
“No, but we have fair share of mistakes. Don't you think?” he agreed softly. “But that's what makes us human.”
That broke something in me. I pressed my forehead into his chest, gripping the fabric of his shirt tightly as I sobbed harder.
“You could’ve walked away,” I whispered. “You should have. Anyone else would’ve left. Anyone else would’ve given up on me weeks ago.”
“Ziyu,” he murmured, his voice suddenly deeper, not angry but firm, honest, unshakeable.
His hand slid from my jaw to my cheek, gently lifting my face so I had to look at him. His eyes were steady. Warm. So painfully sincere.
“I’m not ‘anyone else.’”
My breath caught.
“Tian…”
“I’m here,” he said quietly. “Always. Even when you push me away. Even when you break me. Even when you’re convinced I’ll disappear.” His thumb brushed another tear from my cheek. “I’m still here.”
A fresh wave of emotion crashed over me, and I threw my arms around him, clinging as if he were the only solid thing in the world.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered again, over and over. “I’m so sorry. For everything.”
He exhaled softly—as if he was finally releasing every quiet worry he had been holding alone.
He pulled me closer. “You asked me to come back to you tonight.” A small, soft breath. “Now it’s my turn. Just come back to me, Ziyu. That’s all I want.”
My heart shattered and healed at the same time.
Through the shaking breaths, through the guilt, through the ache in my chest, the truth spilled out of me, raw and trembling:
“I… I love you, Tian,” I whispered. “I love you so much. Always. Always you.”
His arms tightened around me—just enough to make my breath catch.
“Come here,” he whispered, pulling me fully against him, his chin resting on my head. “I’ve got you, babe.”
A soft pause. “And I love you, too.”
Warmth spread through my chest, overwhelming, almost painful. The way he held me steady, protective, without a single intention of letting go...told me more than any words ever could.
In his arms, trembling and drained, I finally allowed myself to breathe.
And for the first time in so long, I understood I was home.
And Tian…Tian wasn’t going anywhere.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Months had passed since that chaotic night—the festival, the chase, the adrenaline—but now, here we were, cocooned in the quiet warmth of our little bedroom. The city outside hummed faintly, but inside, it was just him and me, breathing together, hearts syncing in silence.
Tian was lying on his side, facing me, one arm tucked gently beneath my upper pajama shirt, his fingers brushing softly against my waist. Just light, warm, constant contact that made me feel anchored and entirely seen. His hand would shift occasionally, tracing lazy circles or small, absent-minded strokes as if he couldn’t help but stay in contact.
I curled closer, pressing my face to the side of his neck, inhaling that familiar, calming scent of him...clean, faintly woody, utterly home.
“Mm… you’re warm,” he murmured, his lips brushing the top of my head.
I hummed in response, nuzzling closer. My hands moved over his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall beneath my fingertips, memorizing the rhythm I’d long since loved.
“You always smell like home,” I whispered, voice soft.
He chuckled, the sound low and vibrating against my ear. “And you feel like it,” he replied, pressing a kiss to the crown of my head. “Come closer.”
I did, shifting so our bodies molded together perfectly. My arm curled over his chest, hand resting near his heart, and he wrapped both arms around me, one hand sliding down to my side, the other cradling my head. His chest was warm against mine, his heartbeat steady and soothing, like a lullaby.
“I could stay like this forever,” I murmured, voice barely audible.
“Good,” he whispered back, tilting his head to press his lips softly against my forehead. “Because I’m not going anywhere.”
I tilted my head up to look at him, tracing his jaw with my fingers, memorizing every curve. He leaned down, brushing his nose against mine, teasing me gently. “You know,” he murmured, “I love watching you fall asleep like this. Peaceful. Safe. Here.”
I let out a contented sigh, resting my forehead against his. “I love being here… with you,” I said. “Like nothing else exists.”
His hand traced up my back, fingers tangling lightly in my hair, while the other hand rested firmly on my hip. He leaned closer, pressing his lips to mine in a soft, lingering kiss. No words, just warmth, just closeness.
I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him even closer. He chuckled softly, a sound vibrating through me, and kissed the top of my head again, then my shoulder, then my temple. Every kiss a silent promise: here, safe, together.
We lay like that for a long while, moving just enough to be comfortable, intertwining our legs, hands exploring each other gently, skin brushing skin. Just touch, warmth, and quiet reassurance.
“I never want to leave you,” I whispered, resting my head against his chest again.
“You won’t have to,” he replied softly, nuzzling my hair. “I’ll always be here, Ziyu. Always.”
And with that, I let my eyes close, finally surrendering to the warmth of his body, the soft rise and fall of his chest, the gentle press of his lips in my hair. I let myself drift, completely safe, completely loved.
Because in his arms, I was home.
++++++++++++++++++
Extra:
I was standing in our bathroom, the faint morning light spilling through the blinds, still feeling the lingering soreness from last night. Tian and his freakin’ stamina. I still couldn’t believe it. My body ached in all the right places, a mix of fatigue and something else… warmth, satisfaction, the kind of ache that made me smile despite myself.
I reached for my toothbrush, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, when I caught my reflection in the mirror.
“…oh my god,” I whispered, breath catching.
Tian had left his marks everywhere. My neck, my chest, my shoulders, even my nipples! They weren’t painful, not really. But they were undeniable and every single one of them made my heart skip.
I was tracing a mark on my neck, still marveling at how… him, when I caught movement in my peripheral vision.
Tian.
He was standing just behind me, only in his shorts, looking impossibly casual, impossibly effortless. His hair was messy, his eyes half-lidded with that lazy, content smile that always made me weak. I don't even wanna ask if he's wearing underwear at this point.
“What?” he said, noticing my wide-eyed stare in the mirror. His grin was soft, teasing, like he knew exactly the effect he had on me. “It’s my mark,” he added, voice low, amused. A little chuckle slipped past his lips.
Before I could respond, he wrapped his arms around my waist from behind, pulling me close. His chest pressed against my back, his face buried in my neck, his warm breath brushing my skin. This—this was his favorite thing to do, the little nuzzle, the quiet presence that somehow made me feel both safe and alive all at once.
“Too much, babe… too much,” I whispered, my hands resting lightly over his, letting him hold me, trace me, mark me in the little ways that made my stomach flip. He chuckled softly, a gentle vibration against my neck, and I leaned back into him, letting the moment wash over me.
I tilted my head just slightly to glance at the mirror again, tracing over the marks on my shoulders and collarbone with my fingertips, feeling the memory of his hands, the warmth of last night, and the quiet, overwhelming sweetness of knowing he was here, right here, with me.
“Just… stay,” I murmured, voice soft, almost pleading.
He pressed his lips to my neck, nuzzling gently, his arms tightening around me in a comforting, protective hold. “Always,” he whispered back, his words warm against my skin, carrying the promise I already knew to be true.
I rested my hands on top of his, letting him guide the gentle movements...his fingers teasing tiny circles on my waist, his cheek brushing mine as he pulled me just a little closer. The world outside the bathroom didn’t exist. There was no stress, no work, no expectations. Only this....us, tangled together in quiet, soft intimacy, sharing the calm after the storm of last night.
I leaned back fully into him, closing my eyes, letting myself melt against him. His presence was grounding, his small touches electric, and in that moment, I didn’t need words. Every brush of his hand, every soft nuzzle, every quiet laugh and sigh told me everything I needed to know that I was loved, that I was safe, that I belonged here...right in his arms, in this warmth, in this perfect, unspoken understanding.
And for the first time that morning, I smiled without hesitation. Letting myself savor the simple sweetness of us, the soft skin-to-skin comfort, and the quiet joy that came from being held, just being held, by the one person who had always, always been mine.
And by the way, he was not wearing any underwear. I could feel it. 😉