In Between Us || Zhanyi

Untitled Part 17

Zhan stepped inside, greeted by a suffocating stillness that had once been his solitude, a sanctuary from the chaos outside. He had spent countless days and nights alone in this very space, and it had never felt lonely. Being alone was always his escape, his peaceful retreat. But now, it wasn't solitude. It was loneliness. A deep, aching loneliness.

Why does it feel so empty?

His eyes scanned the apartment, trying to make sense of this feeling. It was the same place it had always been—blank, tidy, still. But now, it lacked something vital, like the warmth had been sucked out of it. It felt lifeless, and Zhan realized with a jolt that it had always been this way. It was Yibo's presence that had brought life to this space, even in the quiet moments when they barely spoke. But now that Yibo was gone, he took the life with himself and left behind the apartment as it used to cold, indifferent and empty.

Zhan wondered, his chest tightening as his eyes flicked to the couch where Yibo used to curl up, reading or simply being there waiting for him to return. Zhan had grown used to that presence, and now that it was gone, he felt... lost. The relief he had felt just minutes ago on the drive home evaporated, replaced by an unsettling loneliness.

Zhan let out a long breath, running a hand through his hair as he walked toward the bathroom. Maybe he was just overthinking. He was tired—emotionally exhausted—and this wasn't the time to be making decisions. A hot shower would help clear his head...he convinced himself

He stepped into the bathroom, letting the water run over him, but even as the steam filled the small space, his mind refused to quiet down. The more he tried to push the thoughts away, the more persistent they became.

Can you really live without him, Zhan?

Zhan shook his head, frustrated with himself. Of course I can. I've always been self-reliant. I don't need anyone to complete me.

But as the water continued to cascade over him, he couldn't ignore the creeping doubt. He could live without Yibo—he had done it before—but was that really what he wanted? He had built a life with Yibo, and though it wasn't perfect, there had been moments—quiet, fleeting moments—when Zhan had felt something he couldn't quite name. Comfort? Belonging? He wasn't sure, but whatever it was, it had filled a space in him he hadn't even known was empty.

Zhan finished his shower, drying off and slipping into a loose T-shirt. He walked into the kitchen,  his mind was elsewhere, his steps sluggish, as if each one dragged him deeper into a void he couldn't escape. Reaching for the bread, he paused, glancing around the kitchen. His body moved on autopilot, searching for the butter to go with it. But after rifling through a few drawers and shelves, he couldn't find it.

He sighed in frustration and stopped, a thought nagging at the back of his mind. A habit of Yibo's... Zhan opened the freezer, and there it was. 'Of course', he thought, shaking his head slightly. The butter, hard as a rock, nestled in the wrong place yet again.

It had been a never-ending argument between them. "The butter belongs in the fridge, not the freezer," Zhan would say, countless times, as Yibo would stayed silent but never obeyed.

Without thinking, Zhan raised his voice. "Yibo! How many times do I have to tell you—" The words died in his throat as he suddenly realized the absurdity of it. His voice echoed in the silent kitchen, falling flat in the emptiness. Yibo wasn't here to hear him. Not today. Not anymore.

The silence hit him like a wall. It wasn't just the absence of sound—it was the absence of warmth. Even when Yibo wasn't speaking, his presence had always filled the space. Zhan had never noticed before how much Yibo's quiet energy had kept the apartment from feeling this... cold.

He clutched the butter in his hand, staring blankly at it for a moment, then set it down on the counter. The room around him felt stark and still, as though it had lost its life along with Yibo's departure. Even Yibo's unspoken presence, the small hum of activity, the rustle of papers, the soft sound of his breathing—it had always been there, even in their silences. And now, there was nothing.

Zhan's chest tightened. The apartment, which had once been his refuge, now a place where Yibo's absence was painfully tangible, where even the smallest memory—the misplaced butter—reminded him of what was missing.

For a fleeting second, he almost wished Yibo would come out of the living room, taking a portion putting it semi melt would serve him. But there was only the soft hum of the refrigerator and the ache settling deeper in Zhan's chest.

Grabbing two pieces of bread and a glass of milk, Zhan sat down to eat but his appetite was gone. He took a bite, chewing absently, but it felt meaningless.

Suddenly, Yibo's words from days before echoed in his thoughts.

"I had no appetite."

The memory struck him like a punch to the gut. Did Yibo feel like this too? This emptiness, this loneliness? Had Yibo been sitting here, across from him, feeling as hollow and disconnected as Zhan did now?

But 'I was there', Zhan reasoned with himself. 'I was physically present. Isn't that enough?'

But as the question formed, another, more painful thought followed: Was I really there for him ever? Or was I just a presence, sitting across the table, too absorbed in my own world to notice his pain?

Zhan's head throbbed with the weight of the realization. He hadn't been there for Yibo. Not really. He had been too focused on his own responsibilities, his own sense of duty, to see the silent cries for help in Yibo's eyes. Zhan had always believed that providing and protecting were enough. But now, sitting alone in the silent apartment, he doubted whether he did enough?

Ziyi with her experience definitely, guessed the traits but as an individual mature man, Zhan could feel whatever happened between them could not be only Yibo's internal belief system. There must be more........from his side

He had always thought of himself as independent, self-sufficient, provider, good observer. But he had ignored Yibo in a way or another and now Yibo had become more than just a part of his life—he had become a part of Zhan himself, in ways he hadn't even noticed. And now, with Yibo gone, Zhan could feel that missing piece, like a phantom limb he couldn't get back.

Ziyi's question hit him again, "can you breath alive without him?"

...To Be Continued