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“Wear a kneepad when you dance.”
“I got you a new helmet for your birthday.”
Yibo remembers some of the earliest tenderness his boyfriend ever offered to him. The moments rooted deep in his heart like an anchor that helped him to not lose himself amidst the glitz and glam of the entertainment world. And even after all these years, Xiaozhan is still the gentlest breeze that ever brushed against his soul.
“Is your shoulder okay now?”,
Yibo stared at his boyfriend’s message a beat too long; realizing despite how exhilarating his outdoor adventure is, his boyfriend’s arms is truly a place where his heart can rest.
He exhaled softly. His hand rose to grip the joint between his left upper arm and shoulder, a dull ache reminding him that he might need to get it checked again once he is back in Beijing.
“I am okay”, he typed shortly, not wanting to make his boyfriend too worried.
They say to be loved is to be seen. Once, Yibo was just a teenager with a heart full of fire who dreams to conquer the world. He pushed himself endlessly, believing that the loneliness, the quiet aches, and the heaviness that settled over him on long nights were simply the cost of ambition. Growing up far from home, he learned to swallow the pain, convinced that endurance was the only way forward.
Then he met the love of his life and the world changed in the softest way.
It felt good to be seen in the places where he shines, but even better to be seen in the places he hurt. How does the older man always know how to read him? He has no idea. Him and those clear eyes of his. The tenderness felt foreign at first, almost startling, but so wonderfully disarmingly warm.
Yibo now realizes maybe he didn’t have to hold everything in. Maybe the burden wasn’t meant to be carried alone. Slowly, he begins to see what Xiaozhan also meant every time he tried to care for him.
“Be safe. I’m worried about you.”
“Have fun, but take care.”
What else can Yibo do but listens? Because there is something indescribably beautiful about being cherished, quietly and gently, by someone who sees you completely.
Even when he finally returns home after finishing filming, body aching after days of outdoor activities and his boyfriend acting a little sulky, he understands the love tucked beneath every complaint and the longing that mirrors his own.
“Did you really sleep hanging off a cliff? Are you--?”
Before the worry can spiral, he pulls Xiaozhan into a tight embrace. He feels the brief pause of surprise before Xiaozhan’s arms wrap around him just as tightly. The warmth hits him first, then the familiar scent he’s missed for days, and then the way Xiaozhan clutches the back of his shirt like he’s been waiting just as desperately.
“I missed you… so much,” Yibo breathes.
He feels the older man soften against him, burying his face in Yibo’s neck, and suddenly all the nights spent hanging off cliffs or pushing his body too far fade into something distant and unimportant.
“I missed you too. I was so worried…” Xiaozhan murmurs, voice trembling with relief.
He spends the whole night seated while Xiaozhan carefully inspects each bruised finger. Every time Yibo tries to tell his experiences, his story is interrupted with soft scolding “And why didn’t you dress warmer?” or “You did see a doctor afterwards, right?”.
Yibo only smiles, letting him fuss, letting those small cuts be tended to. Most of them are barely more than scratches, already checked and cleared by the medical team and Xiaozhan can see it. He has been receiving texts, photos and videos of Yibo notifying him daily. But Yibo can also see that by allowing him to do this, to tend and worry and touch, is what finally puts Xiaozhan’s heart at ease.
“They told me they want me to return for a season two. Mostly rock climbing. Abroad.”
Yibo locks his phone and places it under the night lamp before turning to face his boyfriend. Xiaozhan hums, slipping off his glasses and setting it aside before speaking.
“Can we… review your itinerary this time? No impromptu cliff-jumping, no camping in the middle of a storm…”
Yibo chuckles. “Sure, princess.”
Xiaozhan rolls his eyes but doesn’t protest. Even now, Yibo can see that the nickname embarrasses him, though he’ll never admit how much he secretly enjoys it. Which is why Yibo uses it sparingly only for soft, private moments like this.
“Now, bed. Please. You can finish reading your script tomorrow.” He gently takes the printed pages from Xiaozhan’s hands and sets them on the nightstand beside him.
Xiaozhan faked a pout but he still doesn’t protest when the blanket is tugged firmly over his body like he’s being tucked in against his will.
“Good night, old man”,
Silence. A very pointed, offended silence. Yibo smirks into the darkness.
“Night night, princess”,
Yibo immediately feels a strong elbow jab into his stomach. “Ow!”
“What time is the trailer airing again?” Xiaozhan asks, sounding just a touch sulky.
Yibo shifts on the couch until his arms naturally settle around the man in front of him. Xiaozhan leans back against his chest, his long legs stretched out and loosely tangled with Yibo’s. His fingers move lazily over the new bruises on Yibo’s hands in a light, soothing strokes that lull Yibo into a gentle drowsiness.
“In a few minutes. Just wait.” His voice brightens, all sleepiness vanishing now that he gets to talk about rock climbing again. “I think they’re opening with me climbing on Indian Creek. It’s the coolest thing ever, ge. I swear!”,
Xiaozhan nodded. “It does sound cool. Did you also--”
“Oh, it’s here!” Yibo suddenly straightened his back when he recognized his co-host’s voice from their television. Just as he expected, the trailer opened with a shot of him dangling hundreds of meters above a sheer cliff. Xiaozhan’s fingers froze in Yibo’s palms, and Yibo heard him whisper a quiet, awed, “Whoa.”
Whoa, indeed.
Yibo went still as he watched himself on the screen. Each cut of footage pulled him back into the wild: the sting of cold air on his cheeks, the heaviness in his limbs, and the sound of his breath echoing inside his helmet. A soft pride warmed his expression when the camera captured him as a tiny silhouette against the sweeping rock face, suspended in midair like a speck between earth and sky.
When the trailer ended, he exhaled with relief.
“That was cool, wasn’t it?” he said, tilting his head toward Xiaozhan, only to find his boyfriend completely frozen.
“Uh… baby?” Yibo tried, nudging Xiaozhan’s cheek gently with his nose. No reaction.
“Princess?” he tried again, even more cautiously.
Xiaozhan let out a long, weary sigh and finally sat up. Yibo instinctively moved with him to keep their bodies pressed together.
He held his breath, waiting.
“I don’t remember,” Xiaozhan began slowly, eyes narrowed and expression hurtful “us ever discussed about you climbing without a safety rope and you didn’t even tell me?”.
Ouch.
It was on screen for barely a few second but of course Xiaozhan had caught it.
Yibo bit his lip, suddenly feeling far too warm. “Well, uh…”. He cleared his throat, but the sound came out thin. The confidence he’d felt earlier evaporated, replaced by a tight knot of guilt tugging hard at his chest. This is supposed to be the easy part of the night, the part where he got to share his joy with the person who mattered most. God dammit.
“Let me explain,” he managed, though the words wavered.
Xiaozhan turned his head at that, not fully, just enough for Yibo to see the edge of his profile in the soft light. Yibo can see the hurt in his boyfriend’s face isn’t sharp. It is was quiet, settled, something Xiaozhan was trying very hard to smooth over so it wouldn’t spill out.
The sound from their TV blurred and forgotten in the background.
“It’s getting late,” he said softly, shoulders eased downward in quiet resignation. Yibo’s heart dropped to his stomach when his boyfriend lifted his arm from around his waist. “Let’s talk tomorrow.”
Yibo tugged on his hand gently. “No, can we talk right now, please?”
Xiaozhan answered with a long, tired whine as he pushed to his feet. But Yibo held onto his hand, grip tightening on instinct rather than intention and the pull unintentionally brought Xiaozhan back down. The unexpected force threw him off balance and sent him stumbling backward onto the sofa.
Both men gasped, startled by the escalation.
Xiaozhan’s eyes widened in surprise, and for a moment he just blinked up at Yibo, trying to steady the rush in his chest. Before he could gather himself, Yibo moved and straddled his lap in one smooth motion to pin him gently in place.
Yibo’s palms pressed lightly to both of his hands.
“Wang Yibo!” Xiaozhan protested “I said we could talk tomorrow!”.
“And then what?” Yibo shot back. “We go to bed lying with our backs against each other? Come on, ge. How many days do we even get to be like this… just us?”.
Xiaozhan closed his eyes and exhaled a loud, frustrated sigh, obviously trying not to argue because, unfortunately, his boyfriend did have a point.
“Fine. Talk,” he finally said.
“Look, we actually didn’t have the intention to climb. We drove to the sea to fish and then…”
Xiaozhan’s eyes widened at the explanation.
“Didn’t have the intention to climb?” he repeated slowly, as if the idea of deciding to climb a massive seaside rock on impulse and without gear was somehow worse than the version he’d already imagined.
Yibo shut his eyes for a moment and tried to steady his breath.
“I know it sounds bad, but, princess, look--”
“You do not ‘princess’ me right now, Wang Yibo.”
Yibo winced at the sharpness in his tone. His hand tightened around Xiaozhan’s instinctively when he felt him start to pull away, his expression hardening in that quiet, dangerous way that meant he was genuinely upset.
Yeah… he is definitely in real trouble now.
Yibo took a deep breath and lifted his gaze straight into Xiaozhan’s eyes. Those eyes, usually so bright, warm, full of quiet constellations, are now glistening with tears that threatened to spill over.
The sight hit Yibo like a punch.
“I’m… I’m sorry…” was all he could manage. The words came out small, stripped-down, and honest.
He released his grip on Xiaozhan’s wrist to cup Xiaozhan’s face in both hands, thumbs brushing gently along his cheeks as he brought their foreheads closer.
Xiaozhan’s breath trembled, and when he finally spoke, his voice cracked just slightly around the edges.
“Yibo… do you see my heart?”.
Oh, to beseen.
Yibo lowered his gaze, because he understood exactly what Xiaozhan meant. The truth of it hit him with a quiet, painful clarity. His mind flashed through all the moments in the past when he had been the worried one: sending nagging texts, calling repeatedly, and scolding Xiaozhan for pushing himself too hard. He remembered the days when Xiaozhan insisted on doing all his own stunts despite the bruises and the late nights when he requested for retake because he wasn’t satisfied with how his scene turned out even though he was already on the brink of exhaustion.
And now Xiaozhan is looking at him with the same fear and desperate love. He knew, with absolute certainty, that Xiaozhan wanted him safe just as fiercely as he had always wanted Xiaozhan to take care of himself.
“I know,” Yibo whispered, the words barely more than a breath. “I’m sorry. I really was wrong.” He leaned forward and nudged their noses together to ask for forgiveness with the smallest gesture he could offer.
Xiaozhan exhaled, long and quiet. His arms rose almost hesitantly before settling around Yibo’s shoulders to draw him closer.
“Just… don’t do it again,” he murmured. “Please.”
“I won’t,” Yibo promised, his voice softening even further. “I promise, princess.”
Xiaozhan let out a tiny huff and rolled his eyes “Alright, now I’m actually mad at you.”
But Yibo could see the truth in the way Xiaozhan’s fingers curled at the back of his neck and the way his gaze softened the moment their eyes met. The anger had already dissolved, washed away by worry and relief.
A small smile tugged at Yibo’s lips. He leaned in, brushing the gentlest kisses over Xiaozhan’s mouth in a slow and apologetic way.
“I love you too,” he whispered.