one

Zitao hadn’t thought that anyone would find him in the stairwell. It was in the back of the building, next to the part that was under construction, and the door at the bottom of the stairs that led out of the building was equipped with an emergency alarm, anyway.

He’d found it his first day of school, when he was looking for the bathroom. He hadn’t thought much of it then, quickly ducking back out of the stairwell in case a teacher caught him.

He’s sitting there now, with just a few minutes left. It’s a quiet place, safe from the screaming that he can faintly hear outside. This way, no one can bother him. He can’t stay here for long; soon, the teachers will notice that he’s not with the rest of his class.

Zitao wipes a tear from his cheeks. He’d looked forward to going to real school after kindergarten, but he finds it a little tiresome now, especially because no one really cares. First graders don’t cry and first graders don’t get up whenever they want to. It makes Zitao feel like he doesn’t belong anywhere. He can’t go back to kindergarten, and even home doesn’t feel the same anymore.

“Are you crying?” someone asks.

Zitao looks up, startled. “No,” he denies quickly, but his voice, weak and wobbly, gives him away.

The boy standing before him is tall, no doubt a few years older, and he’s smiling brightly. “You can tell me what’s wrong,” he says, sitting down next to Zitao on the stairs. “If someone made you sad, I can go beat them up for you.”

Zitao looks at him with silent admiration. He shakes his head after thinking about it. “No one made me sad.” He hesitates for a moment, wondering if he should continue. When the boy continues staring at him, he decides that the boy looks nice enough and continues, “My dad’s just leaving.”

“He’s leaving?” the boy repeats.

Zitao’s mother had told him that it would be better this way, but Zitao can’t bring himself to believe her. What could possibly replace seeing his father every day? He takes a deep breath, blinking quickly. “Yeah.” He wonders if recess has ended already, if he should be back in class right now. His teacher probably did a headcount, and they might come looking for him.

Before Zitao can get up, however, the boy puts an arm around his shoulders and hugs him close. “It’s okay. I’m sure he still loves you.”

“Then why would he leave?” Zitao asks, and the boy doesn’t have an answer to that.

“What’s your name?” he asks instead.

“Zitao,” Zitao answers, deciding that he might not leave just yet. After all, it’d be rude to walk out when this boy was trying to make a conversation.

“Well,” the boy says, turning to Zitao. “I’m Chanyeol, and I’m going to stay with you.”

Zitao thinks about this, staring into the earnest depths of the other boy’s eyes. They’re so honest and warm, but then, he thinks, his father’s eyes had been like that once. “Because you love me?” he asks, and Chanyeol smiles.

“Of course.” He reaches up to ruffle Zitao’s hair. “So if anyone makes you cry, come to me.”

“Forever?” Zitao can hear some voices coming towards them, reminding him that he can’t hide here for much longer.

“For as long as a thousand promises.”

Zitao thinks about this for a moment before deciding that it’s good enough. “You promise?” he asks, and Chanyeol smiles brightly at him.

“I promise.”



forty-eight

Zitao forgets about the promise that he’d made with Chanyeol for a few days, and it’s not until Chanyeol greets him one day at recess that he remembers. He’s hesitant to spend time with Chanyeol at first, mindful that third graders didn’t usually hang out with first graders. Chanyeol doesn’t seem to care, though, and he walks over to Zitao often during recess, going down the slide with Zitao or inviting Zitao to play soccer with him.

After class, Chanyeol waits for him by his classroom door, walking with Zitao to the buses. He’s always smiling, always there to comfort Zitao if Zitao ever complains about anything.

It’s only natural that Zitao starts reciprocating. When Chanyeol does poorly on a test, he gives Chanyeol a smile and tells him that there’s always another chance. And when Chanyeol scores a goal in the soccer game, he’s quick to give Chanyeol a high-five and wait while Chanyeol tries to spin him around.

They grow closer over the next two years. Chanyeol’s always there, never impatient even if he has to slow down for Zitao to catch up, even if Zitao doesn’t understand some of the things that he’s saying. He tells Zitao that he’ll grow up soon, and he explains things carefully until Zitao understands.

Zitao doesn’t even have to tell Chanyeol when he’s upset. Chanyeol seems to be able to tell at a glance, and he’s quick to pull Zitao into a hug, letting Zitao lean his head against Chanyeol’s shoulder.

It’s better these days, especially at home. Zitao didn’t understand how his father leaving could be better for their family, but there are certain benefits. Even if it means that he doesn’t get to listen to his father’s nighttime stories, his mother tells him stories each night. He doesn’t stay up late into the night listening to his parents fight anymore, and he doesn’t have to sit at the dinner table and pretend to be ignorant of the glares that they direct at each other.

He gets to see his father each weekend, too. They spend a few hours of time together, time that his father dedicates just to him. It’s better this way; he doesn’t have to see his dad when he’s stressed, and they always have fun when they’re together.

His family isn’t as close as it once was, though. Zitao knows that the only time his parents talk is when his mom is dropping him off at his dad’s, and even then, it’s only a few quick words about his wellbeing. But even if it’s different, Zitao starts to see why his mother had told him that this would be better.

“What are you thinking about?” Chanyeol asks, nudging Zitao as they walk out of the school.

Zitao looks up. “I got full marks on my test today,” he tells Chanyeol. He’d placed his test neatly in his folder, so he could show it to his father.

“Good job. I’m proud of you.” Chanyeol pats Zitao’s head.

Zitao ducks a little, smiling when Chanyeol laughs at him. “Are you coming over this afternoon?”

Chanyeol nods, letting his hand fall back to his side. “My mom will drive me over when I’m done with my homework.”

“Promise?” Zitao asks, stalling in front of the open door into his bus. Chanyeol’s bus is just in front of his.

Chanyeol smiles, reaching over to take Zitao’s hand and hook their pinkies together. “I promise.”



one hundred thirty-two

When Chanyeol goes to middle school, Zitao worries that they won’t see each other as much anymore. Even though they don’t see each other every day, Chanyeol still manages to come over once a week, or Zitao goes over to Chanyeol’s house.

Chanyeol’s there to welcome Zitao when Zitao goes to the same middle school. He guides Zitao around the school when Zitao gets confused by the layout of the buildings. Before school had even started, he’d given Zitao a few tips—like never asking eighth graders for help (just Chanyeol, because Chanyeol would never intentionally get Zitao lost), and never buying the cafeteria lunch (because middle school lunch menus weren’t any better than the ones in elementary school).

“How was your first day of school?” Chanyeol asks, greeting Zitao when his final class is over.

Zitao pulls on his backpack straps. “It was weird,” he says, following behind the crowd of people that was inching slowly towards the exit of the school building. “The school’s really big.”

“Isn’t it?” Chanyeol laughs, his voice carrying easily over the soft hum of conversation around them. “It doesn’t look that big from the outside. Good job surviving your first day,” he adds, flashing Zitao a thumbs up. “I got lost my first day. Three times.”

“That’s really bad,” Zitao tells him, and Chanyeol smiles.

“I know.” Chanyeol puts an arm around Zitao’s shoulder, pulling him closer when someone bumps into Zitao’s other side. He doesn’t have to lean down as much anymore. Over the summer, Zitao had grown a few inches, and even if he’s not quite Chanyeol’s height yet, he doesn’t have to look up as much to meet Chanyeol’s eyes. “Hey, you want me to buy you food? To celebrate your first day of school.”

It’s too small of a feat to be celebrating, but free food is free food, so Zitao doesn’t question it. “Are you paying?”

“Maybe.” Chanyeol laughs when Zitao elbows him in the ribs, stepping away to dodge Zitao and letting his arm from Zitao’s shoulder. “Okay, yes, I am.” He holds up his hands when Zitao looks at him doubtfully. “I brought money, I promise.”

The last time Chanyeol had promised to pay, he’d conveniently forgotten his wallet, and Zitao’s not sure he wants to go through that again. He turns, squinting at Chanyeol under the light once they’re outside. “Promise?” he asks, and Chanyeol’s smile is almost blinding.

“I promise.”



one hundred eighty-seven

Even after Chanyeol goes to high school, he doesn't stop keeping in touch with Zitao. He invites Zitao over to his house often, sometimes even for sleepovers, even if he insists that they're anything but.

"It's just so we have more time for games," Chanyeol says. "Games after dinner, games before breakfast."

But more often than not, after one match in which Zitao wins over Chanyeol easily, they end up turning off the television and just talking.

Zitao doesn't mind, though. He doesn't mind the way he wakes up sometimes to find Chanyeol wrapped around him, close enough that Zitao can feel Chanyeol's breath hitting his face and see the dried drool on Chanyeol's cheek. Just like Chanyeol doesn't mind comforting him at night, holding and reassuring him rather than teasing him about his insecurities.

"It's okay," Chanyeol says, Zitao's hair when he flinches at the loud sound of thunder outside.

Just then, the lightning flashes, close enough that Zitao can see the brilliant streak across the sky. He tightens his hold on Chanyeol's hand, nails digging into flesh, but Chanyeol doesn't say anything as he pulls Zitao closer.

"It's going to be over soon," Chanyeol says, his voice soft and soothing next to Zitao's ear so Zitao can almost ignore the storm outside.

"You promise?" Zitao asks, tilting his head up a little so he can see Chanyeol.

The next flash of lightning illuminates Chanyeol's small, soft smile and his eyes, which are staring at Zitao and only Zitao. "I promise."



three hundred four

Graduation is bright, with the cheerful afternoon sunlight overhead and the brilliant white smiles and the blinding flashes of cameras.

Chanyeol doesn't seem to stop smiling, not from the first time he sees Zitao until he throws his cap in the air and runs over to greet Zitao.

"Hey," he says, hugging Zitao tightly. He seems to be trying to lift Zitao up, but only succeeds in rocking them from side to side. "You've grown so much," Chanyeol observes, finally stepping back and holding a hand to the top of Zitao's head.

"Congrats," Zitao says, returning Chanyeol's smile easily.

"Thank you. I..." Chanyeol's attention wavers, and he waves at someone over Zitao's shoulder. "Hey, Dad!" he calls, before turning back to Zitao. "My parents are talking to some important people." He sighs, running a hand through his hair. "I'll catch up with you later, okay? You're coming over for lunch, right?"

Zitao nods in response. Chanyeol starts walking away, but Zitao reaches out at the last moment, fingers closing around the other's wrist. "Hold on," he says. His voice is soft, barely audible above the chatter around them, but Chanyeol hears him perfectly.

He turns around with a smile, a smile that seems to be directed at Zitao, a smile that has never failed to make Zitao feel special. "What is it?"

"You'll visit, right?" Zitao swallows, his throat tightening from nervousness. "After you leave."

There's a moment when Chanyeol just stares at him, but then realization seems to dawn in his eyes. He steps closer, putting a hand on Zitao's shoulder. They're almost eye to eye now, just a few inches apart, and there's nothing but sincerity in Chanyeol's eyes.

"Of course." A pause, and then, "I promise."



four hundred twelve

When Zitao goes to college, Chanyeol's there to make sure he adjusts well. It means that Chanyeol is often texting Zitao, insisting that they meet somewhere for lunch together, walking into Zitao's dorm unannounced, and pestering Zitao to call his mom. Chanyeol's in his life much more now, but Zitao can't really say that he minds.

In fact, he likes spending time with Chanyeol, likes how easy and reassuring it is to know that Chanyeol understands him, that Chanyeol doesn't expect him to be perfect.

Chanyeol insists on inviting Zitao to his Frisbee Fridays, and it's thanks to Zitao that he meets so many others, making friends and finding a space of his own outside of his original comfort zone.

One afternoon, it's just Chanyeol and Zitao left in the field, tossing a Frisbee at one another. After a while, Chanyeol walks up to Zitao instead of returning the Frisbee.

"You're good," he says, sitting in the grass. Zitao sits down next to him, close enough that his arm is touching Chanyeol's and he can hear the rise and fall of Chanyeol's breaths. "You should join the Frisbee team."

"There isn't a Frisbee team," Zitao points out, and Chanyeol just laughs.

They sit in silence for a few minutes, together in the middle of the large field. There's the sound of traffic from the streets not far away, the soft voices from people walking past them, and the peals from the campus bell as it proclaims the time.

Zitao doesn't know why he chooses to break the moment. Maybe it's because he's always shared everything with Chanyeol, and as big as this secret was, he couldn't keep it forever. Maybe it was just a momentary feeling, a sudden fondness for the messiness of Chanyeol's wind tousled hair. Maybe it was the magic of the moment, when there hadn't seemed like a better time.

"I love you," he says, a soft laugh caught in his throat as he speaks. "I've loved you for a while, actually. As more than a friend," he adds, because Chanyeol can be slow sometimes.

Maybe it had been inevitable, the way Chanyeol had always been there for him, always offering a shoulder for him to lean on from the very first day. It hadn't even begun consciously, starting from respect to adoration and growing affection.

There's a long moment of silence, when Zitao thinks that Chanyeol won't say anything, but then he says, "I've always loved you from the first day." He turns to Zitao, his face and words serious, but the soft look in his eyes gives him away. "I told you, didn't I?" He scoots a little closer, putting an arm around Zitao in a half embrace. "But thank you for telling me."

"I mean it," Zitao says, leaning into Chanyeol's side. There's always been a space for him there, like the way Chanyeol has always had a special place in Zitao's heart.

"You promise?" Chanyeol asks.

Zitao smiles, looking down at the grass. "I promise."



four hundred seventy-three

The following year, they've saved up enough money to move into an apartment of their own, off campus. It means longer drives to classes and waking up earlier, but it also means waking up to breakfast together and falling asleep side by side on the couch when they're watching late night TV.

There's more privacy, this way, and no one's here to tease if Chanyeol stares at Zitao for a moment too long or if Zitao has his head on Chanyeol's shoulder throughout an entire movie.

Today is special, though. It's a date that Chanyeol had circled in red on their calendar. It's exactly a year from the time that Zitao had confessed.

Zitao had told Chanyeol, when he'd first circled the square on the calendar and explained the significance, that he wasn't good with dates. And Chanyeol had laughed and confessed that he wasn't good with them either, but, "That's why we have the calendar."

But today, Chanyeol has to leave for a class at nine, meet some classmates for lunch, and go to the store to buy something. "I'll be back later this afternoon," he says, hugging Zitao as he looks around to make sure he hadn't forgotten anything.

Zitao reaches up to smooth down the back of Chanyeol's hair, even though it just puffs back up the moment he removes his hand. "You promise?"

Chanyeol stops muttering to himself and turns to Zitao, giving him his full attention. "I promise."



five hundred ninety-eight

Zitao blinks when Chanyeol gets down on one knee in the middle of dinner. They’re eating in their apartment, and it’s hardly the most romantic setting. The rice is too watery and the pork is a little burnt.

The little details, however, seem to disappear when Chanyeol looks up at him, and Zitao sees nothing but adoration.

He already knows what the question is going to be, and he already knows what his answer is going to be.

“Will you marry me?” Chanyeol asks. His gaze is steady and unwavering as he holds out a ring box with one hand. The slight tremble of his upper lip, however, gives him away.

Zitao sets his chopsticks down and takes the ring box out of Chanyeol’s grasp. He knows that Chanyeol tends to forget about certain things in his excitement, and he’d rather not have their engagement ring ruined before he can even put it on. “Yes,” he says, placing the box on the table.

Chanyeol smiles impossibly widely, and he gets up to hug Zitao. “Thank you. Let’s grow old together,” he says, as Zitao hugs him back. “You’ll stay by my side, right?”

“I will,” Zitao says, closing his eyes as he breathes in Chanyeol’s familiar scent. He’d never thought any differently the past few years they’d spent together. He would be graduating from college in a few weeks, and he simply can’t imagine a future without Chanyeol. “I promise.”



six hundred fifteen

Zitao knows that, even if they’re already engaged and they’ve unofficially promised their eternal devotion to each other, it’s hardly the end. The rest of the battle won’t be easy.

The first phone call comes the night of their wedding. Chanyeol gives Zitao an apologetic look, but he steps outside to take the call. He doesn’t return until nearly an hour later, hair messy from his fingers constantly running through the strands. He tosses his phone onto the table and collapses next to Zitao, closing his eyes and burrowing into Zitao’s side. Zitao doesn’t say anything, only putting an arm around Chanyeol and holding him close.

Even without Chanyeol telling him what the calls are about, Zitao can guess simply from his facial expression, the guilt that remains there long after he's hung up.

Zitao doesn't want to push, doesn't want to force Chanyeol to talk when the other doesn't want to. But when Chanyeol cuts himself with a knife when they're cooking together one night, Zitao sits him down to clean out his cut and put on a Band-Aid. Chanyeol can be easily distracted, but Chanyeol isn’t really the type to store his troubles inside and brood over them.

"Are your parents that much against me?" he asks, as he wraps the Band-Aid tightly around Chanyeol's finger. Chanyeol’s parents had always welcomed Zitao into their house like he was their second son. Zitao knew Chanyeol’s house nearly as well as his own.

Chanyeol blows lightly at his finger before looking up to answer Zitao's question. "It's nothing against you. I guess they’re madder at me than they are at you. You know, the ideas of a traditional family with children and stuff." He looks up. “I think they want that the most. They want to be grandparents.”

"We can always adopt," Zitao says.

Chanyeol smiles. "Yeah, sure," he replies, but Zitao can tell that he doesn't really mean it.

Eventually, Chanyeol does talk about it with Zitao. It takes a month of this back-and-forth conversation, but he brings it up during dinner as a compromise of sorts.

"My parents want me to study abroad for a year. They've already chosen a college overseas for me. And they said that if we still feel as strongly for one another a year later as we do now, then they'll give us their blessing."

It's good enough of a compromise, but it doesn't stop the prickle of tears in the corners of Zitao's eyes. Chanyeol stands up and walks over to him, hugging Zitao tightly.

"I'm sorry," he says, eventually crouching down by Zitao in the same position he'd assumed when he had proposed to Zitao. "But it's not impossible, is it?"

Zitao blinks, staring down at Chanyeol. "It's not," he agrees, and smiles weakly back at Chanyeol. "You promise to come back after a year?" Do you promise to still love me after a year? is what he's really asking, and Chanyeol seems to understand.

"I promise."



seven hundred six

Chanyeol’s smile is so much brighter in person than it is through a screen and poor internet connection.

Even from a distance, Zitao can tell it’s him from the way he walks, the easy movement in his strides, the excitement clearly conveyed in the way he’s waving enthusiastically from a good distance away.

It’s all Zitao can do to hang back, smiling as he lets Chanyeol greet his parents first, smiling and talking to them about the past year and promising to catch up later.

There’s more than enough time, Zitao thinks, when Chanyeol finally waves goodbye to his parents and turns to Zitao. This is just a small step closer to forever.

“Hey,” Chanyeol says, and Zitao smiles back.

“Hi,” he replies, and his voice catches a little. Chanyeol doesn’t seem to notice, just taking Zitao’s hand as they walk towards the car.

Maybe Zitao had been worried, over the year, when Chanyeol would talk to him with obvious excitement about the new people he was meeting, the new places he was going to. Home had never seemed so dull until Chanyeol was gone. He’d been afraid, when Chanyeol had called off yet another one of their weekly phone calls, that Chanyeol wouldn’t want to return, that maybe their feelings alone wouldn’t be enough to get them through this.

But those cold nights alone are just a distant memory now. Chanyeol is sitting beside him, his laughter loud over the radio as he snaps pictures of the world outside the window.

“It’s great to be back,” Chanyeol says, directing his phone camera at Zitao this time.

“I’ll cook dinner for you,” Zitao offers. He’d been trying to improve his cooking skills, buying cookbooks and slowly mastering his fear of the crackling oil over a fire.

“Really?” There’s nothing that can capture Chanyeol’s attention faster than food, and Zitao smiles at how little the other has changed.

“I promise,” Zitao says, and he takes his eyes off the road for a second so he can return Chanyeol’s smile.



seven hundred forty-one

The wedding takes place nearly two years later, after over a year of planning.

Yet even after spending months discussing the fine details and picking out everything they’ll have for their wedding, it’s not enough to prepare Zitao for the actual wedding.

It’s everything that they’d planned for—a modern wedding held outside, under the shade of a few nearby trees. But it’s impossible to account for everything. They barely have enough chairs, the weather is hotter than they’d anticipated, and all of the flowers are quick to attract bees, enough to elicit quite a few screams from their guests.

But they’re just minor details that fade away as the procession begins. There’s the swell of classical music in the background and all eyes are fixed on them, but all Zitao can see is the warmth in Chanyeol’s smile, the happiness clearly expressed on his face. Just looking at Chanyeol makes the nervousness in his stomach disappear, makes him confident that even if this isn’t perfect, they’ve made it this far and that’s enough.

Chanyeol turns to Zitao when he recites his vow, taking one of Zitao’s hands. His voice is loud enough for everyone to hear, but his words are for Zitao and Zitao alone. “I promise that I’ll do my best to make you happy,” he says, and he concludes with, “I promise.”

Zitao doesn’t quite have his speech memorized, but he has more than enough words to say to Chanyeol. It doesn’t matter if he stumbles over a few syllables or if some of the phrases are awkward. Chanyeol, who had sat beside Zitao that day in the stairwell, wouldn’t care about such trivial things. “I promise to stay by your side,” he says, and Chanyeol grins at him as he squeezes his hand lightly.

And when they kiss, their identical wedding bands brushing against each other as they entwine their fingers, it’s with the soft laughter and I promise’s that fall from their lips.



eight hundred forty-nine

Only silence greets Zitao’s, “I’m home.” It makes him pause for a moment before he hurriedly takes off his shoes and closes the door. He wonders if Chanyeol had left the house without telling him, but he finds the older sitting on the couch in the living room, staring blankly at the television.

“Did you cook dinner yet?” Zitao asks, sitting down on the other end of the couch. Usually, he’d be quick to curl up by Chanyeol’s side, but he still has a lot of work to finish before tomorrow morning.

“There are leftovers in the fridge,” Chanyeol replies shortly, without taking his eyes from the screen.

“Did you eat already?”

“I will.” Still, Chanyeol doesn’t make any effort to move.

“Chanyeol.” When Chanyeol doesn’t reply, Zitao leans a little closer. “Do you just stare at the TV all day?”

The remote clatters loudly when Chanyeol throws it on the coffee table. Zitao blinks, leaning back. That hadn’t been the response he’d been planning to get from Chanyeol, but it’s still marginally better than his usual apathy.

“It’s not like I have a choice,” Chanyeol says. He’s closing and opening his fist, frustration obvious in the way he clenches his jaw. “What else am I supposed to do? I can’t make them accept me.”

It’s hard finding a job when none of the companies seem to be hiring these days. And whenever there is an opening, there always seems to be someone more qualified or experienced. Even Zitao is annoyed by the unpredictable tendencies of the economy, so he can only imagine that Chanyeol must be affected even more.

It’s not much of an excuse for Chanyeol’s recent behavior—the restless energy, the short temper bubbling just below the surface that Zitao doesn’t necessarily welcome after a long day at work—but Zitao knows when to back down.

“I know,” he says, pushing himself up from the couch. “I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry,” Chanyeol says, and he reaches out to take Zitao’s hand. “I’ll find a job. I promise.”



nine hundred fifty-two

It doesn’t get better even after Chanyeol gets a job. Their schedules are constantly conflicting. Zitao’s rarely able to greet Chanyeol before he goes to work, just as it’s rare for him to be awake when Chanyeol gets back.

There are times when they try to line their schedules up, like going out together during weekends, but most of the times, something always manages to get in the way.

They’re only able to celebrate their wedding anniversary together after three months of planning in advance. Even then, it’s only a quiet dinner together at home. The food is simple and the setting is simpler.

It’s the company that matters, Zitao knows, but right now, as he picks at his rice, it feels like he’s sitting across from a stranger. He hasn’t talked to Chanyeol for so long that he’s nearly forgotten the other’s interests. Their conversations are stilted now, like they’re saying words just for the purpose of talking. Zitao can talk to his coworkers easier than he can talk to Chanyeol these days, simply because he knows that Chanyeol has too much to do to worry about his work. Zitao is partly to blame for this, too, since he hasn’t even been able to go to Chanyeol’s workplace once.

As though knowing what he’s thinking about, Chanyeol catches Zitao’s eye across the dinner table and smiles. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” He phrases it as a question, but they both know it’s just a simple fact.

“Yeah.” Zitao leans across the table to get some of the vegetables. He remembers when Chanyeol used to insists on getting them for him, making him eat a certain amount every day. It’s just another reminder of how much they’ve grown, and how much they’ve grown apart.

“Let’s spend more time together,” Chanyeol says, and there’s that same optimism in his eyes, like he’s still young enough to chase after impossible dreams. “I’ll try not to work too much. I promise.”



nine hundred ninety-nine

All of the promises they’d made aren’t enough to stop the inevitable fate. It starts off as little arguments from built up stress, and over the months, they drift further apart.

Zitao’s determined to stick through it at first, but the relationship eventually becomes more of a burden than an agreement he’d willingly entered into. He can’t focus after a screaming session at five in the morning, and he doesn’t want to go back home to broken plates and the tension in the air.

Zitao waits for Chanyeol that night, sitting in bed with a cup of coffee on the nightstand next to him. He tries to return Chanyeol’s smile, tries not to give away his nervousness as Chanyeol slips into bed next to him. Today hasn’t been that bad, and it’s days like these that keep him hoping that things will magically get better.

But he can’t keep holding on, and he convinces himself that, in the end, it’s best for them to let go of whatever they had years ago.

“Let’s get a divorce,” Zitao says, when he feels Chanyeol turning to face him. He doesn’t have to look to know that the smile has frozen on Chanyeol’s face.

“What?” Chanyeol sits up when Zitao doesn’t answer. “Tao, what is it?”

“It’s not working out,” Zitao says. He can feel his nails digging into his skin, can see the shock and hurt in Chanyeol’s eyes. “I can’t do this anymore.”

Chanyeol doesn’t say anything for a long time, only releasing a sigh. He runs a finger over the pattern of their sheets, chewing on his lip like he wants to say something. Eventually, he looks up, and he looks so tired that it makes Zitao falter, just a little. “I see. I’ll talk to a lawyer and see what we can do.”

Zitao nods. It’s so easy, saying it aloud and giving up everything they’ve been working for, giving up all of the memories they’d shared in the past three decades. He still has time, but he can’t help wondering if he’ll ever meet someone who’s made as much of an impact in his life as Chanyeol has.

“Hey, look at me.” Chanyeol gently tilts Zitao’s chin upwards. His gaze still makes Zitao feel like he’s the only one that matters, even that will be far from true not long from now. “You promise you’ll be healthy and happy?”

It’s hard to maintain eye contact with Chanyeol when his own vision is blurring. “I promise,” Zitao says.

Chanyeol smiles. “Good. I promise never to forget you,” he says, and he lets his hand drop from Zitao’s chin onto the space between them on the bed.



one thousand one

When the arrangements have been finalized, all that’s left is just signing the papers.

Zitao looks up when he’s finished signing the last line, meeting Chanyeol’s eyes across the table.

Even now, knowing that they probably aren’t going to see each other anymore, knowing that their rings are probably hidden away, it’s still so easy to smile at each other and pretend that nothing’s wrong.

There isn’t anything wrong, Zitao thinks, rising to leave first. This is just another beginning, another step forward.