Zitao …

Yifan’s thumb hits the backspace button a few times, his trembling fingers creating a few mistakes just by typing his name alone.

I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry. I’m sorry for leaving just like that without even giving you so much as an explanation. I’m sorry I never told anyone, not even you, that I was leaving. I’m sorry that I was a coward then and that I’m still a coward now. I’m sorry for not calling you and telling this to you straight. I’m sorry for not even having the guts to send you this message.

Yifan’s strained eyes blink in the darkness, holding his phone to his chest. It’s been a few days since he’s filed the lawsuit, canceling his trip back to Korea and staying at a hotel room. The room’s nice, but it’s not enough to quell the guilt just threatening to bubble out.

His fingers not stopping their shaking, Yifan saves the message as a draft (piling on top of his other hundreds of texts he’d been meaning to text Zitao before chickening out at the last second) and taps on the Instagram application on his phone, ignoring the newest posts from his other followed accounts and going straight to Zitao’s account. He hasn’t updated at all. But who can blame him? Who would think of even updating any social media site they have after finding out that someone has betrayed them?

Still, Yifan taps on one of his newest pictures on the account. It’s of Zitao posing with another man Yifan doesn’t recognize. Maybe he does know him, but all he can focus on right now is the gorgeous blond winking at the camera. The caption says “love you My brother~^.^” and Yifan can only smile. He misses Zitao’s old hair. He looked gorgeous with it.

Yifan goes back and taps on the next picture, feeling a wave of nostalgia hit him. Zitao is dressed entirely in black, his jacket hanging off his shoulders and pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. Judging by his caption (“#Thombrowne”), it’s obvious he’s showing off the threads he’s wearing. But God damn, Yifan never realized how much he would never see this personally again. He would never see Zitao modeling in front of him anymore. He would never be bugged by Zitao to take a picture of him anymore.

He would never see Zitao anymore.

Yifan bites on his lower lip and quickly presses back, trying to stabilize his breathing. It’s taking his all not to just book a ticket to South Korea and fly to his old dormitory to see Zitao. He needs a distraction, but he’s not even sure if his distraction will help him. Still, Yifan takes a chance, skipping the next picture (he had already seen it earlier, and yes, he misses Zitao’s old hairstyle as well) and going to the next one.

Yifan pauses at this picture, heart clenching suddenly as he realizes it’s regarding the upcoming concert that he had so selfishly abandoned. It’s of Zitao after what seems to be the end of a regular practice. The caption written underneath confirms that, yes, it is the end of practice, and Yifan feels even more guilty when he reads the hidden implication of how much harder they have to work to fill up for his absence. But Zitao looks so absolutely stunning like this: tired, face and hair sprinkled with perspiration but still breathtaking.

Yifan finds himself caressing the picture, taking extra care not to accidentally double tap the picture to like it, as much as he wants to. Wouldn’t that be the biggest scandal to ever arise in the K-Pop community.

“EXO concert fighting!” the caption says. “Let’s work hard! Jiāyóu! (fighting)”

“I wish you all the best, Zitao,” Yifan whispers. “I’m so sorry.”

Forgive me, he types on the comment box. I wasn’t thinking properly. I only thought of myself and not of you. Never of you. Take my place properly and give twice as much love to those fans who I ended up disappointing.

But of course, he never sends it.

Several days had passed since then and Yifan had just eaten dinner, the only source of light in his hotel room the moonlight filtering through the curtains. He had assured his mother that he’s fine, but that didn’t stop her from accompanying him to the hospital to get his condition checked anyway. Yifan sighs as he lies on his bed. With his height and his mask covering his face, it wouldn’t be hard for people to recognize him. It would only be a matter of time for fanaccounts and fantaken pictures to be posted on the Internet.

Yifan takes out his phone and, after squinting momentarily from the sudden light that nearly blinds him, instantly goes to Zitao’s Instagram account. Zitao had posted three pictures since then. The first picture is of an icing-smeared Zitao smiling at the camera, flashing a peace sign while someone else feeds him a piece of cake. The caption reads “During my birthday~” and Yifan sighs.

He didn’t even spend Zitao’s birthday with him. He was busy. Or so he told everyone. During Zitao’s birthday, he was already contemplating on when to leave SM. He felt like a terrible boyfriend but it was already suffocating him. Though he had texted Zitao and Zitao replied back enthusiastically (Yifan could pick up the accusatory tone in the reply and that made him feel even more terrible).

Shaking his head, Yifan goes back and taps on the next picture. It’s of Zitao with a mask, a cap and a hood covering his face, pulling off the peace sign with both hands and a speech bubble saying “cat?~” next to him. It’s a picture that makes Yifan smile through his tiredness, his heart fluttering in the guilt-ridden hollows of his chest.

He goes to the next picture, smile broadening at the image of Zitao hugging a white teddy bear and smiling at the camera. Yifan remembers that bear well. He doesn’t remember what they were doing (a CF? A photoshoot? A promotional event? He doesn’t care to remember), but he remembers kissing the bear and trying to get away from Zitao who appeared out of nowhere. Zitao stole the bear (despite Yifan trying his hardest to hide) and proceeded to coddle with it. Yifan was a bit bitter over it, but felt a lot better afterwards when Zitao had pulled him into one of the bathroom stalls later and kissed him, whining at the faint taste of industrialized cotton on Yifan’s lips as he pulled away.

Yifan’s eyes trail to the caption, laughing softly when Zitao wrote, once again, about his wishes of his hair growing faster. His laughter fades when he recalls the time when trainee Zitao had whined to his gege, about how he was jealous of his hair’s length and wished his own hair grew fast like his.

Yifan feels tears collect in his eyes and he drops his phone. “,” he curses, sitting upright and dabbing away the tears with the inside of his shirt. He had completely fooled everyone that he was fine. If they were to see his tears, this moment of weakness, they would baby him. Pamper him and pity him and Yifan doesn’t want any of that. He doesn’t need any of them.

He only needs Zitao.

The mere thought of his lover (ex-lover?) makes the tears come out even more. “,” Yifan hisses, the word coming out odd because of his clogged nose. He’s hoping against hope that his mother doesn’t check up on him now. He needs to get rid of all evidence that he was crying. He needs to be strong.

For his mother.

For himself.

For Zitao.

Yifan takes in a deep breath, eyes wide as he stares at the darkness. Why? Why Zitao? Why does he have to be strong for Zitao? As far as he’s concerned, Zitao hates his guts. Why then? Why does he have to be strong for someone who doesn’t care about him? Who brands him as a traitor and the one who so carelessly threw their love away?

Because he knows.

He knows that Zitao is scared as he is. He knows that Zitao is uncertain of the future as he is, knows that Zitao doesn’t know what to do now that the one person he’s been relying on for his entire life in Korea had suddenly packed up and sued the very company they’re working for.

Zitao, Yifan thinks, a cough forcing its way out of his throat. He hurriedly clamps his hands over it and dives face-first to the pillow. He can’t breathe, but at least his coughs are muffled. Forgive your boyfriend. Forgive your gege. Forgive me.

Upon waking up, Yifan rolls to his side and snatches his phone, tapping his way to Zitao’s profile and scrolling down instantly. He’s tried calling the boy twice last night, but he never picked up. He was even directed to voicemail almost immediately once, something which makes Yifan’s heart pound painfully. Zitao isn’t picking up not because he’s tired or sleeping. He isn’t picking up because he’s blatantly ignoring him.

The fact hurts, but Yifan still doesn’t blame him.

Yifan sighs when he sees nothing new from Zitao. But as he scrolls back up, he freezes, noticing something amiss. He hurriedly taps on Zitao’s account, eyes darting all over the screen and blood draining even more.

No. No, no, no, no, no. No.

Zitao … unfollowed him?

Bolting upright on his bed, Yifan checks all the other EXO members’ profiles to see if they had, like Zitao, unfollowed him. Chanyeol unfollowed him … Luhan unfollowed him … even Yixing, the sweetest person anyone could ever know, unfollowed him. Feeling his heart breaking in two, Yifan pulls the covers over his head and screams as loud and as hard as his strained body possibly can.

Were they forced to do this? Yifan thinks it’s a highly possible thing, as he realizes that Baekhyun hasn’t unfollowed him. He will, though, in a matter of time. Yifan is sure of it. But … but what if they did it on their own accord? What if they willingly unfollowed him?

Zitao, please. Pick up your phone. Speak to me. he types in Chinese on Zitao’s comment box. He quickly deletes it, his cowardliness creeping up to him once again. It would be a fool’s errand for him to make something simple like a worried (albeit desperate-sounding) comment become a full-blown scandal because he wants to just hear Zitao’s voice.

Stop it, he growls at himself. You’re going to destroy everything in a couple of minutes if you give into this weakness of yours. Show some control.

Yifan stays in bed the entire day, not responding to his mother’s worried and anxious calls. He’s busy thinking, mulling over the “what ifs” should he have stayed. Would things get better? Would he gradually become happier? Would SM listen to his incessant demands and finally become lax with how they were pushing their artists?

Yifan receives a new notification on his Instagram. Someone commented on his most recent photo, stating how they would still believe in him. He sighs and turns to his side.

It’s been days since Yifan had checked his Instagram. He’s been busy finalizing details for his movie. He’s both excited and nervous as hell. Finally, he’ll be able to do what he’s always wanted. But another thought comes crashing down horribly on him.

What … what if he actually isn’t all that good? What if the director only chose him because he was famous and not because of his skills? Yifan knows that he’s not the greatest actor ever. He doesn’t even know if he’s even considered in the mediocrity level. What if everything goes horribly wrong? What if his first movie premiers and people will discover that he’s not really that good of an actor? What if investing in SM was his best bet and he gambled all that away because of his unhappiness and selfishness?

When these kinds of thoughts plague Yifan’s mind, the first thing he does is turn to Zitao for safety and comfort. The boy – Yifan will always, always see him as a boy despite him turning twenty-one recently – will always know what to do to make him feel so much better. He jokes around, he tells Yifan embarrassing stories, he sings …

But now that he’s alone, he turns to Zitao’s Instagram as the closest thing he can have to his lover. He doesn’t expect to see anything new, but he blinks when he sees a couple of new pictures from Zitao gracing the home page of his Instagram.

The first is of Zitao smiling as he takes a picture of himself, a couple of “devil horns” formed with the help of hairspray. Though this picture is quite old (judging from the hairstyle), Yifan hasn’t seen this before. Wasn’t he always the one who Zitao turned to whenever he thought of new antics? Yifan sighs as he remembers how Zitao and Sehun were practically attached to the hip nearing the end of last year. Did Sehun know about this?

With another sigh, Yifan presses the back button and goes to the next picture. This one brings his spirit up slightly, prompting him to chuckle to himself. Zitao is on a salon chair, blowing his cheeks into an irritated expression as foil covers his hair. He seems to be getting his hair dyed for the nth time, and Yifan sincerely hopes his hair doesn’t become as badly fried as Luhan’s when he had to dye and crimp his hair for Maxstep. Typical Zitao though, not failing to take a selca and making people laugh.

He loves this boy.

Yifan brings the phone closer to his lips but stops short, looking around. He’s the only one in his room, but it’s still sort of a confirmation for himself that he’s alone. Deeming himself as, once again, alone, he presses his lips against the picture of Zitao, chuckling to himself for feeling such a creep.

I miss you. I love you so much. I want to hold you in my arms once again and let the whole world melt into nothingness. he types into the comment box.

But of course, he doesn’t send it.

It’s the day of the concert, and it scares Yifan more than anything. Will the other EXO members be able to fill his part in properly? Will they do well? Yifan worries for Zitao the most. They are sure to give him his parts as the other rapper in the group. Zitao has been proved a worthy rapper more than enough times, with such a great grasp on memorization and coherence, so Yifan knows that he really shouldn’t worry.

But he still can’t help it. He loves Zitao. And Zitao will always be Yifan’s highest priority.

But he wasn’t your highest priority when you decided to file the lawsuit and not tell him, was he? his traitorous brain says. All you cared about was yourself.

Yifan groans and tries to dispel that thought. Many a time he thinks this and it’ll always make him feel so guilty and useless, like he never deserved to even be with EXO in the first place. But what’s done is done and Yifan is looking out for his own health now. As much as it hurts for him to say it, he is his own priority now. He’s got no one to take care of, no one to babysit, and definitely no one to protect besides himself.

But as Yifan glances over to his right and imagines a certain rapper grinning up at him, he knows that he will always make Zitao his priority, apart or not.

For two whole days, Yifan had been worrying about the concert. He knows the members can fill in for him just fine – they’re professional enough to do this – he’s just worried about their feelings. They are sure to be drained even more than usual now that they’re working twice as hard to cover up for him.

Yifan nibbles on his lower lip. He’s caught wind on the internet that on the first day of the concert, when the EXO members called up a girl and asked her who her favorite member is, she answered with “Kris”. Yifan sighs. The fans are definitely stubborn.

He needs to check up on Zitao, to see how he’s feeling.

Five pictures were posted on Zitao’s Instagram, one posted yesterday and the other four posted just earlier that day. The first picture is of Baekhyun and Zitao, and Yifan smiles at that. He knows that Baekhyun cares for and loves Zitao like a brother, but he just hopes that Baekhyun would tone down on the quarreling. Zitao knows Baekhyun’s heart, but he may take it too personally and break down.

Bless his sensitive heart.

“Not today~” the caption reads. “We worked really hard today! Let’s see each other tomorrow as well! SEE YOU TOMORROW.”

Yifan sighs. “Are you trying to make me feel guilty, Huang Zitao,” he mutters to himself, going to the next picture.

This time it’s of Joonmyun and Zitao, with Joonmyun flashing the camera a creeper smile and a thumbs up and Zitao pouting, the caption underneath reading “mom and son”. It’s times like these which makes Yifan want to give Joonmyun a hug, to whisper again and again that he’s so thankful that he’s taking care of his baby, for never making him cry, and for always being there for him.

His misses the family setting the three of them had set up. He misses being the “dad”. He misses Joonmyun being the “mom”. He misses Zitao being the “son”. Tears prick Yifan’s eyes and he angrily wipes them away. Goddammit, he just misses Zitao.

The next picture is with Luhan this time. Luhan looks healthy, though a tad skinnier than Yifan last remembers. “Lu ge said it has to be brighter hahahahaha,” the captions reads. “Luhan hyung asked me to Photoshop more kekeke.” The picture after that is of Zitao smiling at the camera with Siwon and Sehun, “So happy~” written underneath it.

The last one is of Lee Sooman and Zitao linking arms and drinking champagne from their own glasses. “LOVE YOU BOSS for making EXO,” the caption says. “Thank you. I love you.”

Yifan throws his phone against the wall. He lies down and turns to his side, staring at nothing in particular. He doesn’t sleep at all that night.

How long has it been? Days? Weeks? Months? Yifan doesn’t know. He hasn’t checked Zitao’s Instagram for a long while now, nor does he think he wants to. That last picture of Zitao being all chummy with Lee Sooman and thanking him has Yifan feeling nothing but betrayed. He knows it’s an irony in his case, but what else is he supposed to think?

He left SM Entertainment and Zitao never supported him. He cut off all contact with him and refused to answer to any of his calls. And then, as if to rub salt in his wounds, Zitao wrote that he loves his boss.

“It’s not supposed to be this way,” Yifan growls to himself angrily. “He’s supposed to miss me. He’s supposed to be worried about me. He’s supposed to keep an eye out for me.” Tears drip from his eyes and he cries into his hands. “He’s supposed to love me.”

In an instant, Yifan’s anger fades and is replaced with nothing but heartbreak and pain. He misses Zitao, damn it. He wants to hold him again, he wants to whisper sweet nothings in his ear again, he wants to kiss him again. He wants to love him again.

He glances at his phone and wipes at his tears. Timidly, Yifan reaches for his phone, as if scared that it will bite him. He scrolls to Zitao’s Instagram page and taps on the account. A number of pictures have been uploaded by then, and the picture with Lee Sooman had been uploaded about ten weeks ago. Among the new uploads is a video with Luhan and Yixing, Zitao dressed as “Santao Claus” last year, him holding two birds, two jump shots with one English essay (there are a few mistakes, but Yifan’s still proud of Zitao for being able to find someone who can translate for him; then that pride was replaced with the horrific realization that Zitao rarely wrote in English ever since he left) and some other pictures.

The most recent one has Yifan furrowing his brows. He remembers this picture. In fact, he was the one who took it. It was during their photoshoot in Berlin and Zitao wanted to play with a skateboard he found nearby. He looked so happy and free in there, and Yifan remembers that he himself was cheering Zitao on. The skateboard had met a rock and Zitao was flown over less than a foot, but he was still grinning ear to ear when Yifan had hurriedly tended to him and his scraped knees.

“This photograph’s story ...” the caption underneath reads, “it makes me reminisce of that time.”

“Oh, Zitao,” Yifan mumbles. “I miss those times too.”

With a new resolve, Yifan goes to his messages, tapping on the thread between him and Zitao. He needs to apologize to Zitao and damn it, Zitao is going to read it, no matter what. His jaw tense and his resolve wavering, Yifan takes a deep breath.

Huang Zitao, he types, I’m sorry for everything. I’m sorry for leaving just like that without even giving you an explanation. I’m sorry I never told you that I was leaving. I’m sorry that I was a coward then and that I’m still a coward now. I’m sorry for not calling you and telling this to you straight. I’m sorry that you’re accepting my apology through this message.

You don’t have to forgive me. But if you still keep in contact with me, then that’s enough for me. Please. Pick up your phone. Send me a text. Chat me up online. Just don’t ignore me as though I’ve never even met you.

I still love you, Zitao. I miss you so much.

Yifan’s thumb trembles violently, but he swallows and hits the send button anyway. There’s a huge chance that Zitao might never get his message, that Zitao had changed his number, that his manager’s checking the phone. There’s a slim chance that Zitao would reply back, but Yifan’s still taking that chance.

Yifan’s phone vibrates and he snatches it up immediately. An unknown number has just sent him a message, and Yifan almost cracks his phone’s screen when he stabs at it just a little too hard.

You’re an idiot. I ing hate you so much. – HZT

Yifan’s heart drops and his face falls. Of course. Of course Zitao would still be pissed off at him. Who wouldn’t? Out of all the members, Zitao’s the most emotional, the most sensitive, and the one who believed in them being together as one the most. He’s hurt even more because Yifan isn’t his leader or his brother, but his boyfriend. Zitao had ing screamed and sobbed in the practice room the night after Yifan left, so how dare Yifan think Zitao would forgive him so easily.

Yifan’s phone vibrates rigorously again, and he swipes his screen to read the new text. His eyes widen.

Call me, stupid. Isn’t that what you do when I say I hate you? You call me and demand an explanation for my behavior? Call me! – HZT

Fumbling with his phone, Yifan hurriedly dials the number, pressing it against his ear. It takes some time for it to go through, considering that they’re both in different countries. The line clicks and it rings twice before it gets picked up. Yifan’s heart leaps to his throat. “Zi—”

“I ing hate you, Wu Yifan,” Zitao sobs.

Yifan heart pounds painfully and he smiles. He hasn’t heard that voice in so long. “Why do you hate me?” he asks in a soft voice.

“Because you’re stupid!” Zitao screams. “Y-you left me without giving me an explanation! You left me without even telling me that you w-were leaving! And you apologize through a ing text?!” Zitao words spill from his lips and he breaks into sobs. “You s-. I – I hate you.”

“I’m sorry,” Yifan smiles, feeling his eyes tear up as well.

“I hate you.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I hate you.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I love you,” Zitao sobs. “I love you so much, Yifan. .”

“I’m sorry. I love you.”

They stay silent for a while, the only sounds being Zitao hiccupping, until Yifan hears the phone being taken from Zitao.

“Yifan, I’m going to hang up now,” the unmistakable voice of Luhan says. “Baby Taozi’s bawling his eyes out right now, so he’s in no condition to talk. Call again tomorrow. Save this number. It’s Taozi’s new number. He just kept his old one around because he knew you were going to apologize to him via text. You , Kris Wu.”

Yifan grins. “I don’t go by that anymore.”

“You , duizhang.”

Yifan’s grin grows wider. “Not that either, but thanks. I miss you.”

Luhan laughs. “Not as much as Zitao. Goodnight, Yifan.”

Yifan’s about to respond when he hears a faint wait! echo from Zitao’s phone. The phone gets snatched again and he hears someone breathing heavily into the receiver. “I love you,” Zitao whispers.

“I love you too,” Yifan whispers back. “Goodnight.”

Zitao hangs up and Yifan feels like a the weight of the world’s been lifted from his shoulders. He falls back on his bed, grinning from ear to ear. Grabbing his phone, he texts Zitao a little message.

I love you. Sweet dreams♡

Zitao replies with a simple >///< and Yifan can’t stop smiling, even as he falls asleep.

This time, when Yifan checks his Instagram, it’s because he received a text from Zitao telling him to. Curious, Yifan does, and he’s met with the sight of a tilted picture of Zitao, sitting on an armchair with one leg crossed over the other. His fingers are curled with the exception of his thumbs and index fingers, Zitao touching the tips of his index fingers against each other. The caption has Yifan raising his brows in confusion.

What’s #EXOL#? he texts Zitao.

Zitao’s reply comes a minute later. It’s our fanclub name. EXO-L(ove). L is in the middle of K and M, and it binds us and our fans together. L is also the 12^th letter of the English alphabet, and we all know that we cannot become completely EXO-L without the L.

Yifan stares at the message. He knows what Zitao’s implying, but it’s too late. He can’t come back. He’ll never be accepted by SM ever again.

Zitao, you know I can’t … I’ll be kicked out of SM the moment I set foot in there. And they were working me too hard. I won’t ever go back there.

I know that, ge. I said that EXO-L are our fans and that L is the 12^th letter of the English alphabet. We cannot become completely EXO-L without the L.

Yifan wants to huff in irritation. Zitao had just sent the exact same thi—wait. “You idiot, Huang Zitao,” Yifan chuckles, shaking his head and smiling when he finally gets it.

Tao oppa~~~~~!!!♡♡♡  I’m EXO’s biggest fan! I’m also your biggest fan! Where do I sign up, oppaaaaaaaa~~~? EXO-L, fighting!

When Zitao responds, it isn’t with a text.

“That’s so embarrassing, ge! You’re so embarrassing!” Zitao laughs. “You’re stupid! But, welcome to the fanclub, ge.”

Yifan chuckles and he feels as if he’s truly where he belongs again. He may not be alongside EXO anymore, but he can feel his heart beat along with something important. He will always be with EXO. He will always be the twelfth member. He will always be the leader of the Chinese sub-unit. He will always be Zitao’s precious duizhang and lover.

He will always be the letter L.

Tumblr | Twitter

- This wasn’t the original ending so the story’s a bit messed up, but it.
- Because Kris still in love is a bigger dork and creeper than Chanyeol could ever be.
- I’m really tired right now so please don’t say “oh you got the timing wrong” or “the picture’s already deleted”. I’m sorry if I did, but I looked up EXO’s Instagram posts on exochocolate on LiveJournal, backtrack a lot, note down the date of each individual photo that Zitao posted which I deemed may have affected Yifan (Zitao posts a lot, okay) manually type down the Korean and Chinese characters (because I can’t copy+paste most of them) before deciding I throw them away because not everyone understands Chinese and Korean, scoured fansites to look for the translations, save the ing pictures in my laptop because my internet is messing with me, remember which ones are deleted and still churn out a fic for the new year. I’m tired but my brain still wants me to write, so I’m writing another fic as well right now. It’s not as fluffy as this one (it’s not fluffy at all), so watch out for that.

The ones which are deleted (and you can’t find them despite me including them in this fic) in case you were curious enough to find the Instagram posts I included:

• Date: 140516
  Picture: Zitao sweaty after practice
  Caption: EXO콘서트화이팅!열심히하자!加油!
  [Translation: EXO Concert Fighting! Let’s work hard! Jiayou!]
• Date: 140522
  Picture: Zitao’s hair with “horns” using hairspray
  Caption: little devil
• Date: 140522
  Picture: Zitao’s head covered with foil; blowfish face at the camera
  Caption: For tomorrow, i have to eat a loooooooot!!내일 위해서 많이 먹어야돼!! 为了明天要多吃些!!哈哈哈哈哈啊哈ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋhahahahahaha