Jiaheng lie upon the bed, pulling at the loose threads of the silken sheets. Not a day went by that he didn't feel empty. The desolate bayou mansion echoed his sadness. Its sparkling halls betrayed the fact that he hadn't moved from the room, let alone the bed in several days. his stomach gurgled and cramped in hunger, but his legs refused to move. 

Its as if his breaking heart was willing himself to die along with Zitao. But that's not what Zitao had wanted. As much of a cynic as Zitao could be, he wouldn't want him wallowing in his own self-pity. He always found things like that pathetic. That's why it took him so long to even get a transplant. After he did though, it didn't take, causing his death. 

On his deathbead, he remembered how Zitao had told him not to blame himself. 

“Zitao, are you alright?” he asked. Zitao shook his head, too weak to speak. Jiaheng’s tears cascaded down his cheeks. “He said I was a match, I thought everything was going to be alright. I’m sorry, Zitao. This is all my fault.” He said, holding him tightly. Zitao embraced him back. He gripped his face in his hands and gently kissed him. He leaned close, as close as he could get, and managed to whisper,

“It’s alright, Jiaheng. It’s not your fault. None of this is your fault. Things like this happen, and they happen for a reason. My time has come, and soon, I’ll be gone. But I want you to know, that being with you was the best memory of my life. I will cherish it forever. You are my reason for living. You are my hope, you are my light. My Tinkerbell. I love you, Li Jiaheng.”

He could feel the hot tears welling up in his eyes again. His chest tightened as he fought back the sobs that were suffocating him. It wasn't fair. The one good thing that had happened in his life, and he disappeared. Just like that. 'That's what I get for helping him.' he thought to himself, gasping for air and finally letting the tears fall down and stain his cheeks and pillow. 

He mustered up as much energy as he could, and rolled over, swinging his feet lazily over the bed and walking over to the door. He looked out onto the grand staircase, which led down to the grand foyer. He looked over, the hall with the doors. One of which he knew he had not been allowed in. It was within that door that he found the diary of Luhan, his lover who had left because he couldn't handle what Zitao had become. It was where he read of his fatal illness, that he was slowly dying a painful death. 

He had so badly wanted to fix him. Even after all the times he had protested, Jiaheng had been persistent. And it had led him to his death anyhow. What was he going to do? He had never dealt with this sort of grief before. He didn't know how to cope. 

He fell to his knees out of surprise. There was a knock at the door. His heart pounded as he steaded himself, wiping the tears from his eyes and adjusting himself accordingly. It had been a while since anyone had come here. 

He glided down the staircase as the knocking continued. It was gentle, but persistant. He approached the door, taking a deep breath. 

As he opened the door, a rather short boy. He had kind eyes. His face was rather mousy, his hair in disarry. It had rained today, and the poor boy was dripping. "May I help you?" he asked. The boy nodded. 

"My name is Luhan, are you...Jiaheng?" he asked. His heart dropped to his stomach. Luhan?

END OF PART 1