Peter Pan

Part III

                The large crowd made Jiaheng nervous. He clung closely to Zitao, which suited him just fine. He linked his arm in his and proudly walked into the party.

                They were immediately met with stares and whispers from every corner. Jiaheng became nervous and wanted to go back, but Zitao squeezed his hand and pressed forward. They finally came to a stop in front of a group of executive looking men.

                “Well, well, well, Huang Zitao, it seems you have yourself a new toy.” One of the men came forward and shook Zitao’s hand.

                “No, this is my companion for the night, Li Jiaheng.” He turned to him and nodded. Jiaheng gave a small bow.

                “Hello. It’s nice to meet you.”

                “Seems you’ve trained him well.” One of the men said. He was rather tall with slicked back hair. Zitao raised his eyebrow.

                “I didn’t. He just happens to have proper manners.” He said. The men laughed.

                “He’s a lot cuter than the last one,” A shorter man with honey brown shoulder length hair came forward. “May I have this dance?” he held out his hands. Jiaheng was about to speak, when Zitao cut in front of him.

                “No, he’s mine. Excuse us,” he said, swiftly turning about and leading him out to the dance floor. He placed Jiaheng’s hand on his shoulder, and put his own hand on his waist, holding his hand. As they began to move around, Jiaheng kept stepping on Zitao’s toes.

                “One more time, and I’ll punch you in the throat.” He whispered.

                “I’m sorry,” Jiaheng whispered. Zitao took a deep breath, and briefly stopped.

                “Follow my lead,” he whispered into Jiaheng’s ear. “One, two, three, four, and one two, three, four…” they began to glide across the room. Jiaheng looked up into his face. He felt a queasy feeling in his stomach. Not that he was going to throw up, but looking at him made his head spin. When Zitao looked into his eyes, however, he looked down at the ground.

                “Stop looking so nervous, you’re being weird.” He whispered.

                “Sorry,” Jiaheng whispered.

                “And stop apologizing. That’s so annoying.” Jiaheng’s cheeks turned pink. As the song ended, they separated, and he walked him over to a table. They sat there in silence. 

*****

               The party progressed rather slowly around them. Several times, Zitao left him to dance with various women. Jiaheng leaned in his seat, trying not to look bored. He didn’t want to make Zitao look bad.

                A man walked up to him. He was lean, with gleaming dark eyes and a sweet smile. He leaned up on his chair, turning his face with his chin.

                “Hello there,” he said, looking into his eyes. Jiaheng’s cheeks turned pink.

                “Umm, hello sir,” the man held his face in his hand and bent down to his level.

                “What’s your name?” he asked.

                “Li Jiaheng.” He answered. He wondered where Zitao was. He couldn’t see him on the dance floor anymore.

                “Jiaheng, what a beautiful name. My name is Kim Jong In. May I have this dance?” he asked, extending his hand. Jiaheng looked around. Zitao wasn’t anywhere to be seen. He shyly nodded, and took his hand.

                Jong In pulled him out to the dance floor, and held him close. He swept him across the floor, making his heart race with every turn. He was rather handsome. And much more polite than Zitao. He smiled at Jiaheng as he moved his hand to the small of his back, bringing him even closer. Jiaheng gave him a shy, sweet smile.

                “You have the most amazing smile,” Jong In leaned forward, and was suddenly swept back, face to face with Zitao.

                “What do you think you’re doing with him?” he asked, shoving Jong In away.

                “Dancing, what does it look like? I don’t see why you’re so on him right now,” he said, coming closer. “Since a few minutes ago, I saw him sitting by himself, for almost two hours. What were you doing?” he asked, examining him. Zitao looked rather unkempt, and smelled of perfume. “Nothing kosher, I’m sure.” Zitao glared at him.

                “What I’ve been doing is none of your, or anyone else’s business for that matter.” He went over and grabbed Jiaheng by his arm. He felt a sharp tug, and looked back. Jong In had his other arm.

                “Leave him be.” He said, pulling him back out of Zitao’s grip and pulling him behind him. Needless to say, Jiaheng had become quite nervous. His eyes shot from Zitao to Jong In.

                ‘Damn,’ he thought, ‘I’ve been working two days, and I’m about to be fired for sure.’ Zitao walked up to Jong In. The men were practically nose to nose.

                “Get the away from him right now, before I beat the ever living hell out of you.” Jong In smiled.

                “You’ve gotten reckless, Huang Zitao. Do you really think you can take me? In your condition? I heard you fell apart after your last boy toy left. You don’t seem particularly interested in him anyway. You seem to be…rather busy doing your own thing. Why not leave him be?” he asked. Zitao’s left eye began twitching.

                “He. Is. Mine. Back off now. I won’t say it again.” Jong In looked back at Jiaheng, who was just standing there in shock. He grabbed him by his arm, yanked him over and his tongue into his mouth.

                Zitao stood there, his eyes bulging. Jiaheng didn’t know what to think. Sure, he thought Jong In was cute, but this was moving way too quickly, and for the wrong reasons. Jong In bit his lower lip, swiping his tongue across it. Zitao charged at him.

                Blood spattered as he busted open Jong In’s lip. Jong In took Zitao by his hair and started punching him in the face. Blood ran down Zitao’s face, as he grabbed Jong In by his shoulders, and shoving him onto the ground. Jong In fought him tooth and nail.

                Both men emerged battered, bruised and bleeding. Zitao rose faster than Jong In however, and lunged for Jiaheng. He grabbed him and walked out of the house with his head held high, blood running down his chin.

*****

                Zitao was fuming as they drove down the street. He had been humiliated. And over what? Some silly boy, who didn’t even have the decency to help him. He looked over at Jiaheng. He kept silent until they made it into the house. He threw open the door. Jiaheng followed after him, quietly shutting the door. He turned to Jiaheng, and flew into a rage.

                “What the was that?” he asked. Jiaheng froze. “I ask you to do one thing, and you couldn’t even do that!” he ran his fingers through his hair, pacing maddeningly through the foyer. He glared at him. “Well say something, dammit!” he came forward and shook him by his shoulders. “Why won’t you say anything?” he cried, Jiaheng threw his hands off of him and backed up.

                “I did just as you said. I didn’t spoke unless spoken to, and I waited for you. For hours. I had no idea where you went. But I didn’t panic, and I didn’t chase after you. You’re a grown man, and I’m not your nanny. All I did was accept an invitation to dance. Which, by the way, you never said I couldn’t dance with anyone besides yourself. So if you’re going to be pissed at anyone, get pissed with yourself. You made a jackass of yourself. Especially the way you showed up. But did I ask what you were doing? Did I come after you? No.” he turned to leave, when he felt a tug on his arm.

                Zitao shoved him against the wall, ripping open his shirt, and planting kisses along his neck. He ran his tongue along his soft skin. He pushed his shoulders down, and found a spot right at the base of his neck. Jiaheng tried to fight him off, but he was also overwhelmed at the urge to moan and let go. Zitao lifted him by his legs and placed him onto his own hips. Jiaheng wanted to let go and let Zitao do as he wished, but his better judgment kicked in.

                “Put me down!” He cried. He punched Zitao in the shoulder. He lifted his head, and looked into Jiaheng’s eyes. They were out of focus, hazy. He grabbed Jiaheng by his hair and kissed him. Jiaheng pushed him away, trying to wriggle out of his grip. “Stop!” he turned his head away from Zitao. He smirked.

                “You’ll let a perfect stranger kiss you, but you reject me?” he asked, dropping him harshly onto the floor.

                “I don’t really know either of you, but I don’t want you touching me,” he said, looking up at him. “I don’t know you. I don’t like you. And I certainly don’t love you.” Zitao scoffed.

                “Take off my clothes, and get out of my sight. Now.” Jiaheng stripped down to his underwear, tossing the clothes at Zitao’s feet, and hurried away.

                He grabbed his own clothes and ran into the spare bathroom behind the kitchen. He slammed the door, and slid down onto the cold linoleum floor. Tears ran down his face. This was only his second day. How could things have gone so wrong? He threw his clothes on, and walked out into the foyer.

                Zitao was nowhere to be seen. All he found was a note. He picked it up.

                “Don’t forget to clean the bathroom, and every room except the one I specified not to enter. Laundry is to be done as well. –Huang Zitao.” He wondered if this is what their communication had been drained down to. Notes. He shook his head, clutching the note in his hand.

*****

                Weeks passed. Zitao had still not tried to contact him directly. Jiaheng still took orders from the sticky notes. The house was considerably cleaner. The kitchen and bathrooms were sparkling. He made sure to clean the bathroom upstairs as best as he could. He spent a day and a half removing the mold and thoroughly cleaning it.

                 The laundry had dwindled considerably as well. Zitao’s closet seemed quite full. The dining room and living room looked better than what Jiaheng suspected they had been for quite a few years. Zitao was so pleased that he gave Jiaheng the back room as a bedroom so that he could make use of his newly cleaned living room.

                 Jiaheng’s new room included a small bureau and a cot. While it wasn’t the most luxurious of rooms, he was content with it. He sometimes missed his small apartment. He was still making payments on it, but now it just seemed like a storage shed for his belongings.  He turned over and fell asleep.

*****

                 Jiaheng was cleaning out the dusty room with all the cobwebs. He cut up an old towel and tied it around his face. It was so dirty in there that the dust flew around, clinging to his skin and clothes. He was forced to take off a shoe multiple times to deal with the spiders that hid in the corners and behind the furniture.

                 He took off all the books shelf by shelf and dusted it, dusting the books one by one before setting them back. One fell to his feet as he neared the final level. He picked it up and dusted it off.

                 ‘My Diary.’ Jiaheng knew it was awful to snoop, but his curiosity was peaked. He flipped the cover open, ‘This diary belongs to Luhan.’ He turned the page, and read what he perceived to be the Forward. ‘This diary is meant to chronicle my relationship with Huang Zitao. I have known him for a long time, but this relationship thing is new to the both of us. Each is the other’s first love. One day when we are older, I want to be able to tell our children about how we fell in love.’

                 Jiaheng looked around. Zitao wasn’t around. He wasn’t going to be all day. He scratched his head. Zitao had never mentioned Luhan before, nor had he ever seen him. He wondered what had happened, but then he remembered that he was supposed to be working. He marked his page with the slender red ribbon hanging from the diary, and placed it on the desk next to the shelf.

*****

                 Zitao came home that night around 11:30. He stumbled into his room, closing the door behind him. He began stripping off his clothes until he was down to his underwear, and flopped face first into bed. He was exhausted. The office life was mundane and drained him of all his energy. He just wanted to have a drink and forget about it. He smiled. He wanted to do other things as well, not that Jiaheng was interested.

                He sat up. Jiaheng was the most interesting person he had ever met. The only person to deny him so many times. He sort of reminded him of a certain person he used to know. He had a sort of spark that he wanted to see for himself. But Jiaheng would never agree to anything. Ever since the party, he had been too proud to approach him, and Jiaheng didn’t seem to mind, seeing as how he too made no effort to reach out to Zitao.

                He sighed as he flew back down onto his pillows. He looked around, noticing for the first time in ages, that his room was clean. He smiled to himself. Jiaheng was such a hard worker. It had been He had already finished so much of the house already. He had what, two more rooms?

               Zitao turned over, smiling to himself. Once he finished, the real work could finally begin.

*****

              Jiaheng lifted himself off his knees, throwing the dirty rag into the now black water. He had finished the last room of the house. He opened the window, aimed so that the water would hit the lawn and not the house, and dumped it. He looked out the window, the warm summer breeze blowing through his hair. The sun was setting, emitting a pinkish-yellow glow over the house. The garden in the back leading to the grotto was bathed in a beautiful glow. One day he just wanted to sit out there, enjoying the calm of the bayou. He turned around, and almost had a heart attack.

            Zitao was leaning up against the door frame, watching him. Jiaheng clutched his chest, ready to faint.

           “Wh-what are you d-doing there?” he asked. Zitao shrugged.

           “Watching. It’s my house. I’ll do as I please,” he said, walking forward. He leaned against the window, looking directly into Jiaheng’s eyes. “Come with me,” he said, pulling him by his arm.

           He took him downstairs, and out into the driveway. He slid him into the passenger seat of his car and took his place in the driver’s seat, throwing the car into reverse and then driving down the lane and into town.

*****

           Jiaheng eyed him nervously. What was he playing at? He looked around. It was quite dark, but this part of town seemed familiar. Zitao stopped in front of a bar. The same bar his friend Chen worked. They walked in, Zitao holding onto his arm. They sat in a booth in the back. The atmosphere was quite smoky, Jiaheng almost choked on it.

          Chen came over and smiled as he placed napkins in front of them.

          “Hi there, Jiaheng.” He said, playfully winking at him. Jiaheng blushed and smiled.

          “Hey there, Chen.” Chen pulled out a notepad. “Is there something I can help you with?” he asked.

          “Why aren’t you at the bar tonight? Did they demote you to busboy?” Jiaheng laughed. Chen smiled and shook his head.

           “We got pretty busy and Xiumin took over tonight, so I’m just a temporary busboy.” He explained. Zitao cleared his throat. Chen turned to him. “Yes, sir?”

           “Bloody Mary. And whatever he wants.” Chen turned to Jiaheng.

           “The usual.” He said. Chen smiled at him.

           “I’ll be right back.” He said, cheerfully heading over to the bar.

          “What was that about?” asked Zitao. Jiaheng shrank away from him.

          “He’s my friend.” He explained. Zitao scoffed.

          “Friend my .” Jiaheng sighed.

         “I don’t know what you’re so angry about,” he said. “We were just making polite conversation, not that it’s any of your business.” He said, crossing his arms.

        “Excuse me?” Jiaheng turned to him.

        “You’re not my boyfriend.” He said defiantly.

        “And he is?” he began to raise his voice.

       “No, but-”

      “What does he have that I don’t?” he asked. “He’s a broke bartender, and he probably lives in the slums just. Like. You. What could he possibly offer you that I can’t?” he asked. Jiaheng thought for a moment. Not because he didn’t know how to answer, because he didn’t realize how easily Zitao could become jealous.

      “A wonderful personality and compassion. Two things you just happen to lack.” He shot back, turning away from him. Zitao’s mouth hung open. Jiaheng had some balls to come at him like that. He closed his mouth as Chen came back with the drinks.

     “There you go, holla back if you need me!” he waved at Jiaheng and went back to work. Zitao scoffed as he sipped on his drink. Jiaheng tentatively sipped on his.

       As the night wore on, Zitao loosened up, a little too much for Jiaheng’s liking. He kept putting his arm around him, especially when Chen was looking.

      “Stop,” he whispered. Zitao looked down at him, his hair.

      “Why?” he asked. He ran his fingers down his cheek and to his chin. Jiaheng rolled his eyes.

      “I don’t know you like that.” He said, reaching for Zitao’s hand. Zitao clamped down to his fingers and turned his face towards his.

      “You don’t try, either.” He said. Jiaheng looked down. He supposed he was right. But Zitao knew just how to make him uncomfortable. He was about to do something he figured he would regret.

      “Why? All you do is work, and when you come home you get so wasted that you strip and sleep all the time. You’re rude and possessive, no wonder Luhan left.” He blurted out. Zitao’s eyes widened.

      As he finished the house, he began to read the diary. Luhan went into detail about how sweet Zitao was when his job first started. They were very much in love, and were happy with just each other. But as he became promoted higher and higher in the company, he became more withdrawn from him. He had violent tendencies and developed a drinking problem. He would stay out all night, and on several occasions, he had caught Zitao cheating on him. He became a totally different person.

     The night he left, he kissed Zitao goodnight, and hid his diary. There was a note in there for Zitao. He figured that if he cared enough, he would attempt to look for it, or for him. Neither happened though. If it had, Jiaheng suspected that he would have Luhan back, or that the note in the diary would have been opened at least. Perhaps he had become so calloused that he didn’t care. Either way, Luhan left. Neither a number, nor an address was left. Apparently, Zitao was supposed to know.

     “How do you know about him?” he asked. His cheeks flushed in anger as he gripped Jiaheng’s shoulder.

     “He left his diary, and left a note in there for you. Which, by the looks of it, you never bothered to read.” Zitao took a deep breath.

     “Did you?” he asked.

     “Did I what?”

     “Did you read it?” Jiaheng shook his head.

     “No, it was specifically for you. I didn’t touch it.” Zitao ran his hand through his hair. He looked over at Jiaheng.

     “Don’t you ever touch anything from that shelf again. Do you hear me?” Jiaheng nodded. He had expected a stronger reaction. Zitao turned back to him. “Then you know?” he asked. Jiaheng nodded.

    “Of course I do.” He said. In the diary, Luhan described how Zitao had been diagnosed with Cirrhosis, scarring of the liver from so many years of drinking. His liver wasn’t functioning right. If he didn’t get a transplant soon, the doctor had predicted he wouldn’t live for more than seven years at best. Luhan’s diary was six years old.

    “Don’t tell anyone.” He said. He turned to him. “Promise?” he asked. Jiaheng nodded. “Good, I don’t need a pity party.” He explained. “Not that anyone would. They would fake their pity, and tell me that since I’m dying I won’t need my money, and have me sign all sorts of checks to different people for charities and organizations.” He shook his head. “No, I’ll go out silently. I won’t make a scene of myself.” He turned to Jiaheng. “Don’t treat me any differently. I don’t want your pity.” Jiaheng shrugged.

    “As you wish, sir.” Zitao shook his head.

    “Stop calling me ‘sir,’ damn you make me feel old.” He said, taking a swig of his drink. “Call me by my name.” Jiaheng nodded.

    “Alright, Zitao.” He shuffled in his seat uncomfortably.

     “Zitao,” he started. “Why didn’t you ever get a transplant?” he asked. Zitao laughed.

      “After he left, there was no reason for me to live. Why bother?” he asked. He set down his drink. “Don’t talk about it anymore. Let’s go.” He got up and paid for their drinks, dragging Jiaheng behind him.

*****

                Jiaheng couldn’t help but pity him, but he kept that to himself. He didn’t want Zitao to be cross with him.

                As he finished the house, Zitao began requesting him to do office work. He would accompany him to the office every day, running errands and filing paperwork. Everything was fine, until he bumped into Jong In.

                He was filing some paperwork when he felt someone leaning over him. He shyly looked over his shoulder, and spotted Jong In.

                “Well, well, well, he has you running errands now, does he?” he asked, moving Jiaheng’s bangs out of his face. Jiaheng smiled politely.

                “I am his personal assistant. It’s my job, now please excuse me sir,” he said, trying to leave. Jong In blocked his path.

                “What’s your hurry?” he asked, his face. “I thought we hit it off so well when we first met.” He said, coming closer. A door slammed.

                Zitao was standing there. He walked forward and grabbed Jiaheng by the arm. Jong In grabbed his other arm.

                “Don’t make me kick your at work.” Zitao threatened. Jong In smirked.

                “Whatever you say, Huang Zitao.” He kissed Jiaheng’s hand, and gently let go of him. Zitao tugged him back, and led him to his office.

                “Don’t talk to him.” He said. Jiaheng nodded.

                “Alright sir,” he said. Zitao turned to him.

                “What? You want me to call you Zitao at work too?” Zitao shrugged.

                “I don’t care.” He sat down and started writing. “Organize the folders in the filing cabinets alphabetically.” He commanded. Jiaheng bowed and did as he was told.

                ‘That ought to keep him in here for a while,’ he thought. He kept to his work, keeping a close eye on Jiaheng.

*****

                Jiaheng noticed that Zitao was told to lie a lot at work. Exaggerating details about almost everything. He had to tell one client that they sold more than they actually did. To make up for it, the company had to cut fourteen workers.

                He could hear people exaggerating details of all kinds. He had to fax and file so many false documents. It made him sick. Zitao told him this is how business works. He was just too low on the ladder before to understand this. Jiaheng agreed.

                Every time they went to dinner with associates, he realized that they would sit there and brag about how many people they conned that day, and how they did it. All the while, their significant other just sat there, staring off into space. Like a doll. Like if they pretended it didn’t exist, it wasn’t happening.

                But it was happening. They were messing with real people’s lives. They were ruining people. No matter how hard anyone pretended, it was all happening. No amount of gloating could make that any better.

                Jong In didn’t try to talk to him a lot anymore. He kept his distance, eyeing him from afar. Jiaheng guessed that he had learned his lesson, and backed off.

*****

                It had been about a month. It was sometime in August when Zitao approached him.

                “Jiaheng.” He said, looking at him from over his desk in his study.

                “Yes?” he asked, standing up from the filing cabinet. Zitao motioned for him to come over.

                “Jiaheng,” he started. He looked down at his desk. Jiaheng patiently waited. “I, I was wondering if…” Jiaheng blushed. Was he about to do what he thought he was going to do? “Would you, um…go out on a date with me?” he asked, waiting for an answer. Jiaheng blushed a deep scarlet. He nodded.

                “A-a-alright. I-I-I-I will.” He nodded Zitao smiled. It was the most beautiful smile Jiaheng had ever seen. His eyes gleamed as it graced his face. It was beautiful, because it was genuine.

END OF PART 3