Kim Jongdae felt like he was always alone for as long as he lived.

He had a father, but the old man was too busy with his life to even care for his own son. His mother died giving birth to him and ever since then, his father had never committed to one person. Jongdae saw different women every night walking into the house and he innocently wondered if one of them would eventually become his new mother. Heechul said they probably wouldn’t. Because his father was head over heels only for his mother. And that their love would never ever fade because they had been through a very tough time to be together—said his mother had left her family just to be with his father. And that it was probably painful for his father just to look at him because they said, he resembled his mother too damn much.

It was hard growing up like that, knowing that no one would be there for him. It was hard for a child his age because he needed someone to guide him. He needed someone who would be there to correct the mistakes he made. He needed someone who would tell him what to do.

Someone.

Anyone.

Jongdae was four when he realized that he was living a different life compared to those dramas and movies in the television. Those people in the k-dramas had friends. They went to school. They played games in the arcade. They went shopping and eating at various restaurants. They had pets. They had siblings. They had family.

While he had bodyguards.

It wasn’t probably the best way to describe it, because he knew all of the men clad in uniforms worked for his father—and not him.

The boy spotted them almost in every corner at the house—in the yard, near the pool, between the rooms. Those men would bow deeply to Jongdae like he was some sort of king but would never talk to him (Heechul was definitely an exception). They would give him a simple nod but never asked him how his day was or what he felt. They would just stand there with an earpiece pressed against their cheeks and their hands crossed at the wrist. Some of them wore stylish glasses. Some of them didn’t even bother to look at him.

It wasn’t an exaggeration to say that Jongdae felt extremely lonely.

But he would never say it out loud.

When Jongdae was ten, his father made an usunual request of calling him into his office. It must be important because the old man had never let him walked inside the room before—he always warned Jongdae to not wander around near the place—and he remembered those words clearly. The only time they would meet was for dinner in the dining room and nothing more. Jongdae couldn’t even remember when was the last time his old man stepped inside his bedroom just to tuck him and give a goodnight kiss.

It probably never even happened.

“Chen,” his father said his Chinese name as he acknowledged his son’s presence in the room.

Jongdae bowed briefly at him in return before tilting his head to a side. He never understood why he had both Korean and Chinese name. Was it because his mother was Chinese? Or was it because of his father was obsessed with everything Chinese related? He never knew. Jongdae didn’t really care what the real reason was, but honestly he liked his Chinese name better because his father seemed very proud whenever he said the specific name.

“Appa.”

“I want you to meet Zitao.”

It was then that Jongdae realized there was another boy in the middle of the room.

His eyes slowly went to the kneeling boy and what he saw sent a shiver down his spine. Jongdae instinctively walked closer to his father for protection, but upon knowing this, he pushed his son forward and Jongdae stumbled away unwillingly. The boy held his breath. Something about the other boy scared him and he looked filthy—like he hadn’t taken a shower for days. Jongdae cringed at how messy his hair was and hastily fixed his eyes on the carpeted floor. He didn’t want to look.

Who is he?

“Tao, look at Chen.”

The boy named Zitao slowly looked up and Jongdae made a mistake of looking up too. The moment their eyes met, it was as if his feet were transfixed to the ground because he was unable to move. Jongdae felt himself trembling because Zitao was glaring instead of looking his way—and those obvious bags underneath his eyes made him looked scarier. Zitao was scary—no, it was an understatement.

He was deadly.

Jongdae turned pale under his scrutinous gaze and Zitao seemed to notice it because he then hid his face by lowering his head. The boy looked like he was no older than him—they were probably the same age. Jongdae watched the other boy firmly and noticed that his hands got a lot of scratches and a few deep scars that made him had to close his eyes for a moment to wipe the images away.

What have they done to him?

“Chen. Zitao is your protector.”

Jongdae cracked his eyes open at that and gave his father a disbelief stare. “Protector? Wh—why do I need a protector, Appa?”

His father patted his head caringly. “I don’t need to give you an answer, son. You just need to know that he will be the one to protect you. He’s your only ally. You cannot trust anyone other than him.”

“B—but...” Jongdae’s line of sight slowly drifted back to the kneeling boy across him. He was still too little to understand why the boy named Zitao was assigned with such task. Was his life that important? “...why?”

“Because I will only die for you.”

Jongdae’s eyes widened in shock at the sudden answer from the other boy. He took a step backward in fear because he had never expected such words would be directed to him. At the same moment, Zitao glanced up to catch his gaze.

“For...for me?”

Zitao’s black orbs were lifeless.

 

 

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

 

 

It had been a few days after the incident and Jongdae still found himself unable to believe.

Why would Zitao die for me?

If there is someone that should be protected...isn’t it supposed to be Appa?

Why me?

Those thoughts swam in his head and yet he was unable to find an answer. And it wasn’t like there was any difference. Jongdae still stayed alone, all by himself without the Chinese male. Zitao was nowhere to be found and Jongdae puffed his cheeks in annoyance at the thought as he took a walk in the backyard. Why wasn’t he around? If he really meant those words...he was supposed to take care of him, right? He was supposed to be there for him, right?

Protector my .

Jongdae was supposed to study English that afternoon, but his homeschooling teacher had been sick so she cancelled their appointment. It saddened him because Tiffany had always acted like a big sister and a friend toward him. She would scold Jongdae if he made any mistakes and would compliment him if he did his homework right. Sometimes, when Tiffany felt a bit down and she wasn’t in the mood to teach him, she would tell him some (very) lame jokes or a story about her friends.

He was lost in his own thoughts that he failed to see that a tree branch was sticking up on the ground.

Jongdae fell ungracefully onto the grass.

Almost, because then he felt a hand grabbing his elbow and steadied his position in a few seconds.

“Be careful.”

Jongdae felt his heart thumping at the hint of concern laced underneath the tone and glanced sideways. “Th—thank you.”

Zitao waited until Jongdae managed to grab a hold of himself before letting him go. He carelessly dusted Jongdae’s shoulders even though they weren’t dirty at all. “It’s my job.”

Jongdae went blank at the fact that Zitao still looked a bit filthy—maybe not enough soap?—and frowned slightly in confusion. “...your job?”

“To protect you.”

Jongdae slowly blushed at the words because right then, it was just the two of them and his father wasn’t around—did he really mean it? Did he even understand what it meant? Did he... Jongdae looked down and twiddled his fingers nervously.

“Um...so are you gonna be like, beside me...? All the time?”

Zitao stared at him blankly before nonchalantly running a hand through his hair. “In order to do so, I have to train. There are probably times when I can’t stay to accompany you, but your wish is my command. Just say it and I’ll grant it.”

Jongdae blinked at him and gawked. His wish was his command? Did you watch too many Disney movies, Zitao? Jongdae opened his mouth and closed it back. He had no idea what to ask him—maybe to stop saying that he would protect him and all those stuffs? He stayed quiet for a moment before realizing the thing he wanted the most. Jongdae swallowed.

He just didn’t want to be alone.

“Whenever you’re free...”

Zitao was still staring intently at him.

“Can you...please...stay?”

Jongdae was unsure if he could ask such thing to Zitao, but he was sure it was what he wanted. He shyly looked down after the request and scratched the back of his neck. Few minutes had passed and when Zitao still said nothing, Jongdae sadly thought he probably should have asked something else.

It startled him when Zitao suddenly knelt down before him and pressed a hand to his chest. He had his gaze down to the green grass so that Jongdae couldn’t see his expression, but his voice was crystal clear.

“As you wish.”

Jongdae’s chest was flooded with warmth.

 

 

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

 

 

Jongdae was really starting to believe Zitao’s words when he turned thirteen.

The latter had never failed to convince him that his wishes were really his command.

Jongdae asked for him to stay whenever he was free and Zitao did. It was just a simple request and that was the only thing Jongdae had ever asked—and not even once Zitao had ever disappointed him. Sure, there were times when he wasn’t there because of the trainings—training for what, Jongdae didn’t know—but the Chinese male took his wishes seriously and would accompany him as long as he could to make up for their lost times.

If there was one thing Jongdae learned about him, it was the fact that Zitao never joked around—especially when it came to die for him.

Sometimes Zitao would just blurt it out all of a sudden and Jongdae found himself cringing in fear at his words. We’re still young, Jongdae retorted quietly. You should stop saying that. You’re not going to die for me. He was—no, they were just kids, what harm could possibly happen to them—to him?

It slipped out of Heechul’s mouth one day that Zitao was practicing his martial arts and he got better everyday. No one could keep up with his pace—not even when it was three against one. It somehow scared Jongdae because martial arts meant he was really preparing himself for something—a battle, perhaps. And it wasn’t just any kind of martial arts—it was wushu. Zitao and wushu were a deadly combination. He tried to ask the reason why the tall male was trying really hard, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it because he looked very determined.

Jongdae would never be able to imagine what kind of trainings he had been through—he wasn’t sure if hell was even the right word. Sometimes Zitao would have a bleeding bandage over his arms or torso and it looked really bad that Jongdae just wanted to cry. Sometimes he would walk in a limp, clutching his knee as he winced in pain but complained nothing. Sometimes, Zitao’s chest looked badly hurt that he wasn’t even able to breathe properly and Jongdae felt himself hurting too.

He had never locked his room—because Zitao was always hiding in the dark for him, protecting him. He wondered if the male would ever sleep because even the day had to give up its time to the night. Zitao wasn’t a robot. He was a human, for God’s sake and he deserved to rest, too. Jongdae had never spotted another breath in the room because Zitao controlled his oxygen so well, but not that night. His breath was audible in the still of the night.

It sounded very painful and Jongdae found himself unable to sleep.

He slowly sat up on his bed and reached to turn on the lamp on the nightstand but hesitated halfway. He didn’t want Zitao to run away.

“Tao...?” Jongdae whispered cautiously. “Are you alright?”

Stupid, he mentally scolded himself. Of course he’s not alright. Those trainings were definitely torturing him... Jongdae felt like crying. Can you please...just stop trying so hard for me?

The ragged breath stopped for a moment and it was obvious that the other boy took a deep breath. “Just sleep.”

“I can’t,” Jongdae mumbled. “I’m worried about you.”

“I’m strong for you.”

“But I’m not,” Jongdae stifled a sob and helplessly stared into the darkness. He had no idea where Zitao sat (or standing. Or lying down). “I’ll talk to my father tomorrow. You need to take a day off.”

“I can’t.”

“Why?” Jongdae cried in frustration. “You—you said that my wish is your command, right? Then you have to obey it!”

There was a painful silence hanging between them before Zitao himself broke it.

“Because I’m not strong enough for you.”

Jongdae held his breath at the quiet, yet firm answer.

“Now sleep, Chen.”

Zitao’s tone was stern and it got Jongdae to sigh in resignation. The latter slowly laid his head obediently on the pillow with his eyes staring somewhere at the other side of the room—somewhere Zitao might be.

“Just...please be safe, Tao.”

Jongdae closed his eyes.

“I don’t want you to get hurt...”

Zitao said nothing in return and Jongdae soon fell into a deep slumber.

 

 

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

 

 

Both of them grew closer in the following years.

Their relationship was nothing more than that, but it didn’t take very long to know that even so, it was special.

Slowly, but surely, Jongdae knew something beat differently within him for the Chinese male. Zitao was always near for no reason. When they were younger, there was a safe distance maintained between them—as if Zitao told himself to not cross the line—and Jongdae just let him, as long as he didn’t disappear from his side. Now that they were older, Jongdae was starting to show that he didn’t mind having Zitao so close to him—and he also noticed that the taller male never hesitated to pull him closer whenever they were together.

It was as if Zitao was stating that Jongdae was his.

Zitao grew up to be a fairly, scratch that, very handsome man. He still grew a few inches taller while Jongdae’s height stayed the same. Jongdae wept inwardly at this fact, but it was fair because Zitao did wushu daily while he...he did nothing but eating and sleeping. Zitao’s body was well built due to his hard work and Jongdae had to look away most of the times because he couldn’t tear his eyes off of the former. The male was just extremely attractive—he would probably make more money by becoming a model.

Jongdae almost choked at his own thought.

When Jongdae reached seventeen, it was then that Heechul told him it was finally time.

He didn’t get what the older male meant by that, but then he was taken by force by a few of his father’s bodyguards into a place that somewhat seemed to be a fighting room (he never even knew such room existed in his house). Jongdae felt nauseated and almost threw up because the smell of blood was so strong in the air. Is this the training place? Jongdae whimpered weakly when they forced him to sit and tied his hands roughly to the chair. He heard them saying something about the final test was just about to begin as one of them pointed a gun to his forehead with a casual laugh. Jongdae’s entire body weakened at the thought that his life would end right there and shut his eyes.

Maybe Zitao wouldn’t have to die for him after all.

“Zitao.”

The name brought a pang to his heart as he whispered it and Jongdae felt something flew close just a few inches from his face. The man who had the gun to his forehead cursed in pain as a shuriken struck right into his hand and unwillingly let go of the metallic weapon. It fell onto the floor with a terrifying sound—Jongdae was afraid it would blow right there and he would get hurt but fortunately, nothing happened. The room was soon filled with excited screaming and loud noises. Jongdae braved himself to look up to see what happened and his heart almost stopped beating because—

—because Zitao was fighting for him.

Jongdae had never known that someone could be that beautiful and yet dangerous at the same time. The Chinese male was avoiding the punching and kicking thrown his way with no difficulties—and he looked like he was dancing. He somehow led the three men away from Jongdae and now, Zitao was the one who stood protectively in front of him as he managed to prevent all bullets and knives heading toward Jongdae’s direction. It took Jongdae another moment to realize that something was on Zitao’s eyes—

—he was blindfolded.

Jongdae blanched at the fact because the taller male could’ve been hurt—fighting blindly with his eyes? Oh my God!—but strangely, Zitao seemed terribly calmed. He must have been a really great fighter to rely on his instinct and Jongdae felt like crying. His father’s words of ‘the protector’ and Zitao’s words of willing to die for him echoed in his mind.

Don’t die, Zitao. Don’t die.

The whole time, Jongdae kept his mouth—and eyes too—shut because he was afraid of any sound he made would disturb the Chinese male’s rhythm. But when he accidentally opened his eyes and saw one of the men lunged dangerously toward Zitao and the latter didn’t seem to acknowledge it, he automatically screamed to warn him.

“Watch out!!!”

Zitao seemed to be distracted by his voice and lost his concentration for a split second because he didn’t manage to avoid the stab. The Chinese boy groaned in pain as a knife pierced into his arm and jumped backward to avoid a kick. He looked down to his bleeding arm and pouted slightly in disappointment. The other men stopped their movement and snickered heartily to each other. Jongdae breathlessly stared at the whole scene. Why did they laugh? He truly didn’t understand any of this.

“You’re bleeding. You’re lost.”

Zitao snorted to himself and pulled out the knife with a swift tug like it was just a needle. Jongdae went pale.

“I’m not giving up.”

The other men stopped laughing at his retort and suddenly, the situation becoming tense, like they were just getting started. It didn’t seem like a final test—whatever they called it—anymore.

It was a battle.

“That’s enough.”

The voice from the door snapped all of them back to reality. They turned their heads to the source of the voice and Jongdae breathed in relief when he noticed Heechul standing by the door with a smirk.

The male waved a hand dismissively. “The training’s over.”

“T—training?” Jongdae gasped in shock. They tied him to a chair and vomitted bullets from their guns and knives were flying everywhere and it was just a training?

The heavy situation soon morphed into a lighter one where all of them chuckled—even Zitao, who casually took off the cloth that was wrapping his eyes and wryly grinned. Heechul nodded at them like it was no big deal—although they were trying to kill each other a few moments earlier—before leaving the room and he was soon followed by the other bodyguards, ignoring the fact that Jongdae was probably shaken because of witnessing their battle—training, practice, whatever.

One of the men gave Zitao an annoying look as he observed his bleeding hand. “You didn’t really need to borrow Key-hyung’s shuriken.”

“I kinda like it,” Zitao shrugged and jerked a thumb to Jongdae’s direction. “And besides, you were pointing the gun to his forehead.”

The man rolled his eyes before walking away.

Zitao finally turned to look at Jongdae when it was just the two of them. Jongdae couldn’t hold back the emotions that he had been holding and sniffled loudly. Zitao’s eyes widened at his reaction and quickly walked closer to him to untie Jongdae’s hands. The latter’s lips were shivering and when his hands were finally free, he began to hyperventilate. Everything mixed into one—his fear, his confusion—but most of all, it was guilt because he was the one who caused the wound in Zitao’s arm.

“I’m—I’m sorry,” Jongdae cried and sobbed into his hands. “I—I didn’t mean to—“

Zitao said nothing in reply and he didn’t even do anything to calm him down. Jongdae felt even terrible because he didn’t understand how Zitao was calm at facing all of this—but maybe he was raised that way—and because he thought the Chinese male would snap at him.

Will you hate me for hurting you?

Jongdae tried to look for anything—handkerchief or tissue—in his pocket because the blood kept on trailing down and ignored the fact that he also needed one for the tears that streamed down his face. “You—you’re hurt...”

“It’s nothing,” Zitao finally spoke as he looked down to his own arm. “It will heal soon.”

“B—but—“

“When I fight,” Zitao continued sternly and Jongdae stopped stuttering immediately. “Don’t talk.”

“O—okay...”

“Because it will distract me. And if I got distracted, it means that your life is in danger.”

Jongdae brought a hand to his mouth and shook his head. “I’m—I’m really sorry... I was just scared...”

“Don’t be,” Zitao replied and knelt before him. He carefully extended a hand to reach Jongdae’s cheek and gently wiped his tears away. “I’ll protect you.”

Jongdae’s eyes shot up. He noticed the determined look plastered on the Chinese male’s face and his fear slowly faded away. Jongdae was silent for a minute, feeling lost at Zitao’s words before nodding shyly. He felt safe hearing those words. Because somehow, he believed that Zitao would.

Zitao did, didn’t he?

 

 

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

 

 

Jongdae never continued his study to the university, simply because his father said it wasn’t important in their life.

With what they were doing, he didn’t need a degree because surviving was more important than education. Eventually, Jongdae would take over his father’s job one day—which was something he didn’t want to do. His father was feared in his world, but if Jongdae ever took over, he wasn’t sure if all of the enemies would fear him. They would probably laugh at him and how skinny he was.

Jongdae facepalmed.

Zitao had never gone to school, but he was always curious about Jongdae’s (high school) textbooks. He would try very hard to read it but usually it would end with a confused frown because hangul was everywhere. He spoke Korean quite fluently, of course, but he wasn’t that fluent when it came to the letters. Jongdae chuckled in amusement and decided to teach Zitao whenever they were free, even though he wasn’t sure if it would have any good because most of the times they spoke using Mandarin (his father had been forcing him to learn the language since he was four, and Jongdae was kind of glad because it was worth it).

They didn’t talk that much, but anyone could see in a glance that they longed for each other.

Jongdae needed Zitao and vice versa.

Zitao was attached to Jongdae and vice versa.

Time passed by really fast and without them realizing it, both of them had become adults.

When Zitao turned twenty, he completely changed his hairstyle and colored it red. He was so good looking that Jongdae couldn’t think of a reason why he would want to waste his life protecting him like he was some sort of prince (a caged prince, to be exact). Jongdae had always wanted to tell him that he could quit (and preferably becoming a model—damn he would make gold from it), but he never had the courage to. Because deep down inside, he didn’t want Zitao to leave. He wanted Zitao to be with him forever, to protect him from harm, to accompany him until the end of his life.

Was it selfish for him to think that way?

Jongdae was more fortunate enough to occasionally go out and learn things, but what about Zitao?

It had been on his mind so much that when Heechul told him he wanted to sneak outside the damn house to have some fun, Jongdae immediately agreed.

Zitao didn’t seem to approve the crazy idea, but he would always follow Jongdae wherever the male went and this one was no exception. Besides, Jongdae’s wish was his command and he held on strongly to that. The Chinese male noticed the awkward smirk Heechul sent his way as they got into the car but waved it off. Truthfully, he had never liked Heechul but he never voiced out his thoughts because Jongdae seemed to be quite close with the older male. Zitao felt a bit strange at the fact that it was just the three of them, but then again, it was better that way because sneaking out in a large group might draw attention.

A night club was the last place Zitao wished they would come to.

It was obvious that Heechul had been coming to the place a few times because he quickly took his blazer off and soon dissolved into the sea of people while dancing and listening to the music. Zitao thought he heard the much older male screaming something like ‘have fun’ before disappearing. He mentally snorted to himself. Having fun in such place was definitely unacceptable to him.

Jongdae’s mouth gaped slightly at the crowded place. He was used to the large presence of people—there were a lot of damn bodyguards too in his house—but this one was probably different because all of the people were like cooped up in one place, pressing against one another.

“Wow...”

Zitao stepped closer to the older male. Wouldn’t want him to get lost in a strange place like this.

“This is amazing,” Jongdae laughed earnestly and turned to Zitao. “We should have a drink!”

He started to walk toward the bar and carelessly bumped onto someone a second later. Jongdae sheepishly apologized before starting to walk again—only to have himself getting pulled back by Zitao because he almost ran into a waiter who carried lots of drinks on the tray. Jongdae gave him an apologetic look when suddenly, Zitao intertwined their hands together as he shook his head. The Chinese male seemed to be slightly amused, but it wasn’t the reason why Jongdae’s eyes widened.

Their hands—

“So that you won’t get lost.”

Oh.

Jongdae felt his face flaming because he felt so embarrassed at the remark. He was embarrassed for being clumsy and helpless at the same time. What would he be without Zitao? It was the first time their hands had ever laced together and it sent a strange sensation to Jongdae’s chest. His chest tightened because he never wanted to let go.

The Chinese male pressed his lips together as he took the initiative to stalk forward to the bar and when they reached the said place, he protectively placed Jongdae in front of him. The latter tried to act normal as he randomly ordered drinks and paid cash in advance. Jongdae waited patiently for the bartender to finish making the drinks and he unconsciously glanced over his shoulder, as if to make sure if Zitao was still there.

He was, of course.

Jongdae’s heart skipped a beat the moment their gaze collided and quickly turned his attention back to the bartender.

“Here you go,” the male handed him two glasses of drinks and smiled kindly. Jongdae didn’t understand why someone as beautiful as him would want to work in such place. But then again, he didn’t understand a lot of things. “By the way, if you’re done with these drinks, those two guys told me they would want to buy you a drink...” The bartender pointed at the two men in the corner. Jongdae followed the direction of his thumb and spotted the said men nodding not too politely to Jongdae. One of them raised a hand with a grin.

Jongdae gulped and avoided their eyes. “Thank you, but—but I’m with a friend...”

A friend.

The bartender—‘Suho’ was written on his nametag—tilted his head to a side and caught the sight of Zitao behind him. “Ah, you’re with your boyfriend? That’s alright, I’ll tell them...”

Jongdae went blank at the said words and opened his mouth to say something—no, they weren’t dating, or no, they weren’t boyfriends—but then closed his mouth again because the sound of that felt nice.

Boyfriend.

Something that he would probably never have.

But there was still a chance for Zitao.

Jongdae tried not to think about it as he downed his drink with a single gulp. By the time he drank the second glass, he forgot that it was actually for Zitao. He winced the moment the alcohol burned down his throat and cradled the glass in his hand for a while before placing it back at the counter. Jongdae thanked Suho and slowly turned around to face the male who had been standing right behind him.

Going to the club to have fun. Have different kinds of drink. Hitting on someone.

Zitao could still have this kind of life.

Jongdae braved himself to casually take Zitao’s hand in his.

If the reason why they held hands earlier was because he was afraid to get separated in such strange places, then what was the reason for this one? Jongdae visibly sunk his teeth on his lower lip as he intertwined their fingers. Zitao’s palm was rough against his and he could feel the scars that were formed based on his hard trainings—the ones that he had been having just to protect him.

Him.

“Let’s find someplace calmer,” Jongdae said into Zitao’s ear and the latter nodded in response.

They slowly moved from the bar to the other side of the room. Jongdae let the Chinese male walked first and Zitao led him to a hall. It wasn’t as crowded as the bar and the dance floor, but there were people coming and going because it was also the same way to the restrooms. Zitao silently leaned his back against the wall, his arms wrapped protectively on Jongdae’s sides as he pulled him closer. Jongdae’s heartbeat quickened because it was alright if Zitao didn’t keep on touching him—but he did.

Jongdae tried to act normal—even though his heart pounded insanely against his chest—by scanning around the place and slowly nestled his head on Zitao’s chest. It felt right at the moment. It was just the two of them, outside the house, where no one could tell them what to do. Jongdae felt his resolve began to waver at how comfortable he was in the taller male’s arms, but he had to say it.

“You can run, Zitao.”

There was a sickening pause for quite a while before Zitao placing a hand on the back of Jongdae’s neck. “I don’t want to.”

Jongdae’s lips were trembling slightly, wondering if he should do this, but he didn’t want Zitao to feel forced for everything that he had done. “You can live freely like this if you leave.”

“Leaving has never occurred to me.”

“If you run, you can work normally...you can study and working at the same time...”

“Protecting you is my work.”

“If—if you run, you don’t have to die for me...”

“I want to die for you.”

“You—“ Jongdae choked a sob because he wanted Zitao to obey and yet he felt glad that the latter stubbornly declined at the same time. “You can marry a girl and have kids...you can have a future...”

What Zitao said the next moment surprised him.

“My future is with you.”

Jongdae’s eyes widened at how serious Zitao sounded at his words.

“I want to marry you, Chen.”

Jongdae lifted his chin up to stare at Zitao. He felt a pair of strong arms snaking his waist, pulling him even closer into the embrace and he gasped softly. His ears were beating so loudly that it was almost deafening.

“Your wish is my command,” Zitao leaned down, closer to Jongdae’s ear. “Tell me what you want, and I will grant all of it.”

Run, Zitao.

But Jongdae wondered if he would end up killing himself if he said it. And besides, it wasn’t his real wish...his real wish was...

“Love me,” Jongdae whispered almost desperately.

Zitao fondly pressed his lips on Jongdae’s cheek before aiming for the spot under his nose.

“I have done that since our first meeting.”

And then their lips met.

It was funny how inexperienced they were and yet it felt so right to experiment their first kiss with each other. Zitao caringly, lovingly, affectionately brushed their lips together endlessly before asking for permission to enter Jongdae’s mouth. Jongdae parted his lips unsurely and moaned when their tongues touched. He shivered slightly at the new feeling running through his veins and let Zitao dominated him completely. It wasn’t a battle of who was strong and who wasn’t, because Jongdae willingly gave himself to the Chinese male.

He wanted to be Zitao’s.

Everything seemed to be spinning around and Jongdae gasped for air and they broke away. He had no idea since when their position had reversed—now it was him who was pressed against the wall and Zitao’s tall body towered over him perfectly, hiding him from the world and protecting him from harm. Jongdae, flushing from all of the kisses, buried his head on Zitao’s chest and leaned into the touch.

“Let me stay like this,” Jongdae whispered.

Even without Jongdae asking for it, Zitao would gladly give it to him. He placed a hand on Jongdae’s head and gently caressed his hair. His eyes shifted to the wristwatch and realized that they had been away from home for a few hours already. It was late and they should probably go back, but right then, who cared?

Just being with Jongdae was perfect and Zitao wanted nothing other than that.

All of a sudden, their peaceful moment was interrupted. Zitao felt a glare was thrown to their direction and sharply turned his head.

His instinct was never wrong.

Zitao thought he saw Heechul across their place in the crowd, but when he blinked his eyes the next second, the male was nowhere to be found. Instead, he found another male staring straightly at them—from his face, clearly he was Chinese—and Zitao didn’t like the way he looked. Something in him silently spoke that he wasn’t the one he was aiming for—but the shorter male in his arms. Zitao glared back in reply before burying Jongdae even deeper into his arms, as if to tell the other male that he was his protector and he needed to stay away.

The Chinese male only gave him a smirk before disappearing into the crowd.

 

 

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

 

 

It was quite hard for Zitao to define ‘love’, but Jongdae felt it completely.

Their relationship wasn’t kept secret, but no one really noticed the difference because they were always together.

Between their alone times, they would secretly kiss and most of the times, Jongdae would give him a comforting hug. The older of the two would cling to him and peppered chaste kisses on Zitao’s collarbone, sometimes selfishly marking it—just because. Jongdae was also starting to smile a lot sincerely—especially to Zitao—and the latter was starting to understand the gift (or the danger) of smiling. Because whenever Jongdae smiled at him, Zitao felt his heart would stop beating because it was too blinding.

Jongdae was awfully pretty when he smiled.

And Zitao loved the fact that the male only did that to him.

They were in love, but Zitao still kept a safe distance between them, especially at night. Jongdae wondered if one day he would be able to sleep with Zitao in his arms because the latter kept on disappearing into the dark. But what they had was more than enough so Jongdae didn’t dare to ask for more.

It was probably one of the rare moments where Jongdae had nightmares. He had been sleeping peacefully, knowing that his boyfriend—he decided he could inwardly call Zitao that—would keep an eye on him even when he was in deep slumber. But that night, Jongdae jerked awake with a loud gasp and took a minute to realize that he was still in his room and that he was safe and unharmed.

“Zitao,” Jongdae whimpered in exasperation as he buried his face into his hands. The said male instantly appeared from the darkness and sat on the edge of the bed. Jongdae sobbed almost hysterically at the presence of the Chinese male and pulled him closer.

“It’s alright,” Zitao soothingly said and kissed Jongdae’s tears away. “There’s nothing to be scared of. You’re safe.”

Jongdae sniffled quietly and fluttered his eyes closed because his heart clenched tightly at the affection Zitao showed him. He let Zitao trailed his lips on his face—started from his cheeks, to his eyes, to his nose, to his chin...

...before finally kissing him fully on the lips.

Jongdae’s fear vanished instantly and held dearly to Zitao. He needed this guy badly. “Sleep with me,” he whispered.

Zitao went blank at his request and Jongdae bashfully shook his head. He didn’t mean to sound so inappropriate...

“Just...hug me when I sleep. Please...”

There was a long pause from Zitao before he slowly laid on the bed beside him and brought Jongdae’s head to his chest.

It was funny because just by a simple act, Jongdae felt extremely safe in his arms. He snuggled closer and sighed in relief because finally, finally they could be like this. When Zitao looked down at him, Jongdae stole another kiss on purpose before smiling beautifully. “Good night, Tao.”

Zitao took a long pause to answer.

“Good night, Chen.”

Jongdae didn’t feel so lonely anymore.

 

 

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

 

 

They had been sleeping together ever since.

Nothing happened more than a simple hug, but it was enough.

Jongdae would fall asleep with a small smile graced upon his lips and Zitao would peck those thin lips carefully so that he wouldn’t wake up. Lately, Zitao had a good sleep too for a reason he didn’t quite understand. Was it because of Jongdae’s warmth in his arms? Was it because he wasn’t alone anymore when he sleep? Or was it because he was happy?

Whatever it was, he realized it had something to do with Jongdae.

It was Jongdae.

It was always Jongdae.

And ever since their first kiss at the night club, Zitao found himself thinking about marriage.

He wasn’t sure if they were going to be able to do it in Korea, but the thought of living together with Jongdae, just the two of them, away from the stupid place brought a simple smile to his lips. But running away—marriage—meant they needed money. Zitao had enough money from Jongdae’s father because he never spent it away, but he needed another thing to complete it—a ring. Sometimes Zitao would just grab Jongdae’s slender arm and tried to measure his finger. It would be funny if he randomly picked a size and it didn’t fit the older male... Jongdae would only stare at him in confusion but then he would shrug it off by kissing Zitao passionately.

He was occupied with the thought that it was a bit too late when he noticed something was off about Heechul.

It wasn’t much, but Zitao had always have a good hunch and he tried not to be distracted because his only plan at the moment was to take Jongdae away from the house. Sure, Heechul was a bit strange—with his girly look and snarky laugh—but he was one of the greatest and most loyal to Jongdae’s father. It had been going on for a few days and Zitao couldn’t erase the odd feeling. As long as Heechul doesn’t hurt Chen... He had never said it out loud, but when Jongdae talked cheerfully to Heechul and earned an awkward grin in response that night, Zitao ended up pulling Jongdae away from Heechul.

“Tao?” Jongdae stared at him in confusion. “What’s wrong?”

Zitao narrowed his eyes at Heechul in dislike and the latter dropped his eyes to the ground. Heechul quickly bade goodbye to Jongdae and stepped away from them as soon as possible.

It was guilt that plastered all over Heechul’s face.

“Tao?”

“Stay away from him.”

“Eh? B-but—“

“I’m your protector, not him, okay??”

Jongdae was taken aback by Zitao’s rising tone and his shoulders weakly sagged. “O—okay...”

Zitao mentally cursed himself because he didn’t mean to snap. He couldn’t say anything at the moment but to pull Jongdae closer into his arms. He just wanted him to be safe. It was the only reason he was still alive until now. But still, even after having the older male in his arms, Zitao couldn’t brush it off.

He had a feeling something bad was about to happen.

 

 

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

 

 

A few days after that, his hunch came true.

Jongdae was still asleep when Zitao cracked his eyes open the moment he realized someone else was in the room. The Chinese male held his breath cautiously and his hand slowly trailed down to the strap on his thigh, preparing to reach for a knife. Zitao managed to grab the sharp thing within milliseconds and was about to throw it to the intruder, but halted when he saw Heechul’s face instead.

His rough movement must have awoken Jongdae because the male gasped quietly beside him.

Zitao pursed his lips in dislike. “What is it?”

“You should run,” Heechul flatly said.

Zitao straightened right away on the bed and shielded Jongdae protectively from Heechul. He tried to read the older male’s expression, but it was unreadable. “From you?”

Heechul snorted. “Please, I wouldn’t stand a chance against you, Tao.” He looked away and his eyes getting distant as he recalled something. He took a deep breath before continuing. “From Hangeng.”

Zitao heard screaming and gunshots somewhere far from their bedroom and Jongdae flinched slightly behind him. He gritted his teeth and glowered deathly at Heechul. “He’s here.”

Heechul nodded tiredly. “Take Jongdae and run. You’re done here.”

Jongdae seemed lost with the conversation they had, but he said nothing.

“Grab your jacket,” Zitao said to him and Jongdae eyed Heechul nervously for a second before obeying. The male carefully slipped from the bed and Zitao observed Heechul thoroughly, just in case he was going to attack Jongdae, but it didn’t seem that the male had a weapon with him. Nonetheless, he should never let his guard down. When Jongdae was done with his jacket, it suddenly just hit Zitao. “...it was him.”

Heechul blankly stared at him. “Who?”

“The male at the club,” Zitao spoke slowly. “It was him. You led us to them.”

Heechul’s expression changed at the statement and he pressed a hand to his face, obviously feeling ashamed with what he had done. “I’m sorry, Tao. I’m sorry. But I love him and I just—”

Zitao seemed enraged at his retort. “You traitor—Chen’s life is more important—“

“Can someone please tell me what’s going on?” Jongdae’s quivering voice broke their arguments. “Zitao, I’m scared—“

The sound of gunshots were getting closer to their bedroom. The three of them froze for a moment at that and Zitao rose to his feet before quickly grabbing his equipment.

“Run,” Heechul said. “I’ll cover for you here. Just—run.”

“Hyung?” Jongdae grabbed Heechul’s arm. “Hyung, aren’t you coming with us?”

Heechul sadly smiled at him as he shook his head. “You have to live, Chen—Jongdae-yah. You’ve always been like a brother to me. You are.”

“What’s—what’s going on,” Jongdae cried fearfully and covered his mouth with a hand. “Tell me!”

“You’re prepared for this day,” Heechul ignored Jongdae before turning to Zitao. “I wish you the very best of luck.”

“Thanks, but no thanks,” Zitao murmured as he kicked the door to the balcony open. “I’ll survive.” He hastily extended a hand to Jongdae who looked like he was about to cry. “Save the tears, we need to run now.”

Jongdae hesitated at first but he obeyed when Zitao gave him a stern look. His boyfriend wasn’t joking around—the situation they had was real. Something dangerous seemed to be approaching and his—their lives were threatened. He sniffled quietly as he took Zitao’s hand in his and took a deep breath.

“He wants to kill you,” Heechul suddenly informed and Jongdae halted his movement to run.

Jongdae blanched and his lips went dry. “W—why?”

“Because your mother,” Heechul paused grimly. “Is his sister.”

 

 

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

 

 

Jongdae didn’t have the time to think anymore when he ran.

He had never ran like this before. His fingers were locked with Zitao’s so that they wouldn’t get separated, but it only slowered the Chinese male more. So Zitao pushed Jongdae forward so that he was the one who was running behind him, hastily grabbing him and steadying his balance up whenever the latter almost stumbled down.

What did Heechul mean by Zitao is prepared for this day?

Are they really looking for me?

B—but if he is my uncle...why did he want to kill me?

His feet were starting to get tired from all of the running and Jongdae almost ran out of breath. He cried and whimpered at the gun shooting behind them—the enemies were catching up for sure. Jongdae tried to look over his shoulder and his boyfriend scolded him angrily and told him to keep on moving forward, to keep on going no matter what happened and he did. They had climbed over the rooftops and jumped over balconies—his room was located on the second floor and dammit, his father should have designed a smaller house—and it suddenly hit him.

His father.

“Zitao!” Jongdae gasped as he almost stumbled for the umpteenth time. “What—what about my father?”

“I’m not gonna die for your father,” Zitao retorted as he shot back.

“I—I know! But I’m scared—what if something happens to him?”

“Just leave that to Heechul.”

“But—but—“

They finally reached the end of balconies after what seemed to be an eternity and Jongdae wanted to cry in relief because he saw the backyard—they would be able to buy some time by hiding in the trees. Just as he managed to climb onto the last balcony and passed by the door, someone had smashed the nearest window and the shards shattered toward Jongdae’s direction.

“Zitao!!” Jongdae cried as he tried to defend himself from the flying shards.

Zitao seemed to be distracted and shocked by the sudden scene that he didn’t manage to avoid the last shot—but he was successful in throwing the knife accurately to the shooter who was running after them and he dropped dead instantly. The bullet hit his shoulder and Zitao fell onto the ground with a hiss near Jongdae with blood spilling all over. Jongdae shrieked hysterically and crawled closer to his boyfriend.

“Zitao—oh my God, please—“

Jongdae froze as he faintly heard endless gunshots within his earshot, but it seemed like it wasn’t directed to them. The male threw a glance over his shoulder—it seemed like the men who had been chasing them had died, killed by Zitao. He could just hoped that Heechul took their sides and killed those bastards who had invaded into their house. Jongdae panickly pressed a trembling hand to the wound on Zitao’s shoulder, hoping it would stop the blood.

“I’m sorry,” Jongdae cried and wanted to hit himself. It had always been him that made Zitao distracted. Zitao groaned quietly with his eyes closed, teeth clenching tightly—it must have been really painful.

“Kim Jongdae.”

Jongdae slowly looked up to the man standing before him—it must have been the same person who smashed the window. He seemed to be alone and seemed to be the type of person who worked on his own. An epitome of an arrogant leader. It must be Hangeng, Jongdae absently thought to himself. He should feel panic or scared for his life but right then, he didn’t care anymore. He just wanted Zitao to be safe.

Maybe this time, he would be the one to die for Zitao.

“What do you want,” Jongdae whispered weakly as he brushed a hand through Zitao’s red hair.

“...you have her eyes.”

Jongdae snapped his head up at him and his eyes grew wider in disbelief. “My mother’s...eyes?”

Hangeng snorted to himself.

“If I am really...really your family, then why...would you want to kill me?”

Hangeng’s eyes were filled with anger as he cocked a handgun at Jongdae.

Fortunately, with everything that had happened, Jongdae wasn’t scared anymore. He simply stared challengingly at the other male.

“You ask me why? You want to know why? Because she rejected me to be with your father. And as if that’s not enough to hurt me, then she—she died giving birth to you, you worthless piece of—“

He didn’t get to finish his sentence because a shuriken had already flying to the spot between his eyes. Hangeng didn’t even manage to do anything because it was a fatal attack. His eyes went blank and his life was gone instantly the moment the sharp thing stabbed right into his face. The male fell lifelessly onto the ground and Jongdae gasped in fear.

“You talk too much,” Zitao said annoyingly still with his eyes closed. “Damn, I really should have more of this Japanese weapon. I kind of like it.”

It was the first time for Jongdae to witness a killing right before his eyes and he was too shocked to say anything.

Zitao groaned as he rubbed his bleeding shoulder. He slowly pulled himself into a sitting position and leaned his back against the balcony with one hand still pressing on his wound before glancing at Jongdae. “Are you alright...?”

“I—I thought—you—you are—“

“Dead? Impossible.”

“B—but—“

“You don’t have to worry, Chen.”

Everything was just too much to take at the time. Jongdae’s vision turned dark and the last thing he remembered was Zitao’s faint words before collapsing.

Told you I would protect you.

 

 

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

 

 

Jongdae woke up feeling a bit too comfortable.

He hummed softly still with his eyes closed, snuggling even closer to the pillow. Jongdae felt calm and serene and he wanted to have this kind of feeling forever. It had been a while since he felt it... Suddenly, the images of Zitao being shot and bleeding and Hangeng died right before his eyes came back to his mind like a movie roll and he almost freaked out. Jongdae cracked his eyes open and screamed.

“Zitao!!!”

Jongdae hysterically cried and flailed his arms helplessly before feeling someone pulling him into a tight embrace and shushed him.

“Zitao—“

“It’s me,” Zitao cupped his cheeks firmly and forced him to look into his eyes. “It’s me, Chen. It’s me.”

Jongdae choked a sob and weakly grabbed Zitao’s arms. “Zitao—I’m scared—“

“It’s alright,” Zitao whispered as he gently caressed his hair. “It’s alright. It’s over. You’re safe...”

Jongdae accidentally rested his head on the side where Zitao was shot and felt the latter flinching slightly. He quickly pulled away and went pale. “Oh my God,” he whispered as he carefully touched the wound. It was bandaged properly. “Oh my God... I’m really sorry...”

“There’s nothing to be sorry about.”

“I thought—I thought I lost you...”

Jongdae finally cried his heart out and buried his face into his hands. He could feel Zitao sighing and shaking his head because it was over and he didn’t need to worry about anything else. They stayed like that for a while until Jongdae calmed down and stopped shaking. Zitao slowly guided him back underneath the blanket, telling him to go back to sleep. Tired from all of the crying, Jongdae sleepily threw a glance around the room. He didn’t know where they were, but the place was nice. The walls had pastel colors and there was a nice painting hanging on the wall. It was just a small apartment, but strangely enough, it felt safe... Jongdae snuggled closer to Zitao and murmured against his skin.

“Where are we...?”

Zitao softly kissed his forehead. “...someplace safe.”

“Hmm,” Jongdae hummed and trailed his fingers on the taller male’s chest. “Is my father...going to look for us?”

Zitao didn’t answer.

“Zitao...”, Jongdae whispered. “Maybe I should walk away from your life.”

“And why is that?”

“Cos—cos I don’t want to see you get hurt anymore... I swear I will be able to protect myself from harm, as long as I know that you’re not gonna get hurt...” Jongdae sniffed sadly as his eyes shifted to the bandage. “I don’t—I don’t want you to die for me...don’t do it for me...”

“Don’t worry, hyung.”

“How can you say that? I really don’t—“

“I’m not gonna die for you.”

Zitao pressed their foreheads together before searching for Jongdae’s lips.

“At least not anymore.”

Jongdae fluttered his eyes closed and his heart stuttered when their lips crashed.

“Because I’ll find a way so that both of us survive.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

End.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Zitao faced Jongdae’s father daringly and it was obvious that he was consumed by anger. His shoulder throbbed painfully due to the bullet he had received, but it didn’t matter. On his way to the said place, he saw a lot of dead bodies lying everywhere—but most of them seemed to be Hangeng’s men because they were clad in casual clothes instead of uniforms.

Stupid Hangeng for thinking that he could win against the Kim clan.

Jongdae’s father looked up when he entered the room and Heechul was there by his side. Zitao wasted no time and spoke with without preamble.

“Our agreement is over. Hangeng is dead.”

There was something glimming in Heechul’s eyes but as a professional killer, he said nothing at that and only looked away in response.

Jongdae’s father put two fingers on his lips as he pressed his back against his chair. He seemed to be in thought before leaning forward. “And now that it’s over, what are you planning to do?”

“I’m taking your son away from here.”

Heechul slowly looked up.

“And you’re not going to look for him, ever.”

Jongdae’s father shook his head disapprovingly. “This wasn’t included in our agreement. The contract was just about you having your revenge to Hangeng because he killed your father—the head of Huang clan. In order to do that, you agreed to exchange your life for the safety of my son—“

“I vowed to die for your son, and I don’t have any intention to change that.”

Zitao’s eyes were filled with determination and Jongdae’s father sagged in his seat as realization soon dawned upon him.

“...you fell in love with Chen.”

“Madly in love,” Zitao corrected.

Heechul envied Jongdae for having someone willing to sacrifice greatly for him. Jongdae’s father gave him a questioning stare, as if to ask for his opinion and Heechul did nothing but to stare back. The older of the two took a deep sigh before turning back to the Chinese male. Jongdae’s father rapped his fingers on the table before curling them into a fist.

“If you ever leave him, I will not hesitate to hunt you down.”

Zitao bowed deeply as he knelt for the last time. For the man who had given him a chance. “You can assure yourself. I am a man of my word.”

“Protect him, Huang Zitao.”

Zitao couldn’t help but snorting at that. “It’s what I live for.”