Souls ache. They will ache until the end has come, or they find their missing half.

 

 

 

Everyone has a soul.

 

There’s nothing spiritual, or religious about believing such a thing; it is a simple fact that humans come to acknowledge as they grow up. It is explained by the emptiness we sometimes feel within without physically being so explicitly emptied of your own guts. The nothingness you feel, the ache, that is a soul. If you do not feel, you have no soul.

 

Whatever scientific explanation people have come up with, there’s no real way to understand how human behavior works under the influence of one’s soul. Zitao had long abandoned the quest to the reason behind his empty and dark soul. He thought it was just loneliness, something that could be cured with other people’s company or maybe a job that ripped him of his humanity. But it was no good. No matter how many partners Zitao got through the years, none of them managed to fill up the hole in his existence, although they tried by every means possible. Zitao began to believe that there was something wrong with him, that he wasn’t doing it right. Because how could everyone else but him appear to have achieved such happiness, when he laid in bed every night, tormented by his own thoughts and fears.

 

To be alone, is humanity’s greatest fear.

 

Zitao had no way of escaping it, nowhere to run, no one that could even understand what it felt like to be him. Zitao often wondered what was the point of it all, what it all meant to exist if people don’t understand how you truly feel.

 

One night Zitao walked off into the night and decided that he wasn’t going home without someone else. He dressed nicely for the occasion; white printed shirt that clung nicely to his skin, leather jacket and crimson colored pants that gave him this allure that could not pass unnoticed. He was spotted almost immediately, but Zitao wasn’t in a flirty mood. If anything, he wanted to be thrashed, not be sweet-talked into a five minute business. Zitao was so hungry for meaning, for reason, but he knew that he wasn’t looking for it in the right place. At some point, he realized that he had rejected too many people to stay in that same area without being spotted as a waste of time, so Zitao moved. He walked a few blocks away and sat on a bench, a little, if not completely, lost. He didn’t know what to do, what to feel, and yet, there were no tears on his face, no appearing desolation or torment. Even the most miserable people can fake happiness. You never actually know what a person is made of unless they willingly, or unwillingly let you see it.

 

Zitao heard children screaming and he diverted his attention towards the source of the noise. There was a family walking by, a man and a woman along with their two children. They looked decently happy, but the man was looking everywhere but at his wife and children, which for Zitao spoke lengths.

 

Some people can smell unhappy couples from a mile away and Zitao was one of those people. He knew that the man was looking away to distract himself, to maybe forget his situation, just like Zitao pretended to like reading just so his brain was busy crowding words into his mind so he wouldn’t need to think more than he should.

 

The man noticed Zitao staring quickly enough and paused a second, as if he’d just seen something he’d lost long ago. It was apparent that he was a little surprised if not shocked by what he’d just seen, causing Zitao to wonder if there was something on his face or clothes that made him more interesting than usual. But no, the man moved on and soon it was as though he’d never set eyes on Zitao in the first place. Zitao let himself slide deeper into the bench and sighed.

 

He wasn’t unhappy. He was just a little broken, and it was no one’s fault but his own. Zitao slid his fingers together, it was getting colder by the minute and it wasn’t a night he should be spending out. But Zitao didn’t have anyone to worry about him so he didn’t care.

 

Zitao closed his eyes and drifted into a light sleep where dreams are so vivid, your body starts moving. When he woke up, he did not remember what he’d dreamt of, but someone was staring down at him and it startled him.

 

“I’m sorry I startled you.” The stranger apologized. “But you shouldn’t fall asleep out here. It’s cold.”

 

Zitao laughed. Of course, only a good natured stranger would worry about him. Zitao soon became aware of his rude action and apologized by waving his hand and then used it to cover his face. His hand was frozen.

 

“Are you all right?” The stranger asked again.

 

Zitao spread his fingers so he could get a better look at this stranger and realized it was the man from before, the one with the wife and two kids. He uncovered his face, something in his chest slightly faltering and then springing back to life. It could’ve been his heart, but Zitao didn’t really want to know.

 

“I’m fine.” Zitao said with a crooked smile. It was his way of handling handsome strangers; giving them a pleasant and suggestive smile that could let him get away with almost anything.

 

The stranger frowned, clearly unsatisfied with Zitao’s reply and poor attempt at charming him. He knelt to get to Zitao’s level, and that’s when Zitao noticed just how truly good looking he was. His dark hair half hidden under a beanie, his big brown eyes, all-seeing and all-knowing, the handsome shape of his jaw and the curve of his lips. This man was probably the most beautiful person he’d seen in his whole life and that was saying something, even though it was not something you could say out loud to someone, ever. The stranger reached out and grabbed both of Zitao’s hands and broke eye contact just to stare down that them. His hands were so big, engulfing Zitao’s like it was nothing, like they were meant to protect them from the cold. As they held hands, Zitao thought about how no one had held his hand in a long time and just how he missed the feeling.

 

“Your hands are cold,” the stranger said, but it felt like he was saying something totally different. “We should get you some place warm.”

 

Zitao blinked a couple of times, unsure of what to say or think. His first reaction was doubt and mistrust, because that is how anyone reacts to such good-natured people at first. “I am fine, I don’t need your charity.”

 

Zitao said. The stranger didn’t move, didn’t even blink as he replied. “You say that, but why are you crying?”

 

Zitao hadn’t realized that he was shedding tears and didn’t acknowledge them until the stranger got to his feet and briefly looked away. Zitao wiped them away, not sure he could or wanted to understand why they were there in the first place.

 

“There’s a small coffee place nearby. We could get you something to get your temperature up again.”

 

On any other occasion, Zitao would’ve suggested that there were much more pleasant ways to get someone’s temperature up but he didn’t feel like joking, or flirting. This man belonged to someone else, no matter how reticent he had appeared a few minutes ago.

 

“Are you coming? I’ll buy if that’s the problem.” The stranger said with a small smile on his face.

 

Zitao snorted as he got up. “I may be alone and cold, but I’m not broke.”

 

The coffee place was mostly deserted. It was a Tuesday and nobody had time to sit around in coffee places, no one apparently except an old man, two women in their late twenties and the both of them. Kris ordered a double espresso, which was odd at this time of day, and Zitao went for chai latte, which he ordered to be extra sweet.

 

The stranger waved for them to sit by the window, but Zitao moved to one of the boots in the most secluded area of the building. The stranger followed him without offering any opposition and as Zitao slid on one side of the bench, the stranger slid in the opposite one.

 

They stared at each other again for a few minutes and then the stranger broke the silence. “You’re not going to ask any questions, are you?”

 

The stranger calmly stated. He didn’t seem put off by it, but a bit curious. Zitao smiled apologetically and slid his hands on the table. “I’m sorry, I haven’t been out in a while. What’s your name?”

 

The stranger slid his arms on the table as well and answered. “Yi Fan.”

 

“That’s a pretty name.” Zitao commented. “I think I have a relative with that name.”

 

“What’s yours?” Yi Fan asked almost before Zitao was finishing his sentence.

 

Zitao leaned on his left hand and replied. “Zitao.”

 

“Why were you sleeping on a bench on a cold winter’s night, Zitao?” Yi Fan asked.

 

“Why aren’t you with your wife and kids?” Zitao asked back practically as soon as the man across him was done talking.

 

Yi Fan smiled. “Funny observation.”

 

Zitao sighed, a little exasperated. Truth of it is, he had no idea what this man wanted, and it annoyed him greatly. “Is it really that funny? You obviously think I’m some sort of hobo.”

 

“No, that is not what I think.” Yi Fan said calmly, although it wounded his proud that a complete stranger would jump to such assumptions. Then again, he might have been a fool to hope.

 

Zitao leaned in closer, “then what is it that you think?”

 

Yi Fan opened his mouth to answer, but the waitress came to bring them their drinks and Zitao was put on hold for a second as the man took a sip of his coffee while Zitao totally and utterly ignored his own.

 

“I know a miserable person when I see one.” Yi Fan offered.

 

“I could say the same for you.” Zitao said, chuckling. But the fact that he’d just been totally put on the spot bothered him immensely. He had to counter attack.

 

“Be that as it may,” Yi Fan said, “I bet you don’t actually care about my situation.”

 

Zitao laughed. “I do, actually. I’m a very caring person.”

 

“Not towards yourself, I assume.” Yi Fan said calmly before taking another sip of his coffee.

 

“What the hell do you want from me?” Zitao said, at lost for any other words as he finally gathered his strength and stared right into this stranger’s eyes, black as midnight after hours.

 

Yi Fan set his coffee down and thought for a moment before he leaned in closer and slid his hand over Zitao’s and murmured. “I don’t actually know.”

 

Zitao took a few deep breaths while Yi Fan observed him even more closely, making Zitao feel even more self-conscious than before.

 

Zitao pulled his hand away and slid it back under the table along with the rest of his assurance as he felt the sadness from earlier slowly surfacing again, his desperation clinging inside his veins like a poison and heading home to his heart. He took a few deep breaths as he stared at nothing but the lame table decoration, under the watchful eyes of Yi Fan. Zitao wished for the silence to be broken, by anything. A weeping child, a grunt, a song, anything. But it seems Yi Fan was going to beat the odds again. “I think it’s because you look oddly familiar.”

 

Zitao looked up again briefly, only to look down at his drink and take another sip. “Do you think it’s possible, that we could’ve met before.”

 

Zitao shook his head, still busy drinking and burning his tongue performing the task. He didn’t want to stay, but he could hardly imagine leaving either. He was trapped, trapped by his own desires to just be with this man who obviously was fascinated by him.

 

“I don’t think so.” He said, swallowing hard a few times to try to ease the burn. But it didn’t help his case.

 

“It sure feels like it.” Yi Fan said, but dismissively, not in an engaging way.

 

Zitao sighed, relieved that the conversation was finally over and aggravated that another was on the verge of being born.

 

“I might have dreamed about you.” Yi Fan said.

 

Zitao snorted. “You sure say whatever you want.” His tone was too spiteful, but it was too late now. “You think that because you bought me coffee you can afford to talk about fate and dreams?”

 

Against all exceptions, Yifan smiled. “So you believe in it too?”

 

Zitao blinked, confused. “What?”

 

“You believe in fate?”

 

“I suppose…”

 

“Then you will believe me when I tell you that this connection I feel towards you shouldn’t and can’t be ignored.” Yi Fan said.

 

Zitao sat back totally unnerved and sinking in disbelief. “What are you?”

 

He asked, clearly confused. Yi Fan raised a hand in apology. “I’m sorry, I’ve been away for quite some time, conversation is a bit hard for me.”

 

“Where were you?” Zitao asked, a bit too impertinent.

 

“Travelling.” Yi Fan said, and he smirked as he let his eyes sweep over Zitao’s agreeable silhouette once more. “I took a year to see the world.”

 

Zitao didn’t know how to respond to that. He wanted to see the world as well, but alone, it felt pointless. He was lost already as it is, he would probably be lost oversees as well.

 

“What about your wife?” Zitao asked, staring into space, his eyes stinging from the lack of blinking. He was staring past Yi Fan, at anything but at his face.

 

“I have no wife. If you’re thinking of the woman and the kids from before, that was actually my sister’s family accompanying me on my way home from the airport.”

 

“You just came back…”

 

“Exactly three hours ago.”

 

“Then why are you here?” New tears surfaced from Zitao’s eyes and Yi Fan wiped them with his fingers as gently as he could. Zitao let him do as he please. He was aching, hungry for something that couldn’t be bought.

 

“Because you need me.” Yi Fan said smiling gently at him. “Also, if you found me the least displeasing, you would have already walked out that door.”

 

Zitao sniffled a bit and Yi Fan handed him a few tissues he kept in his pocket. He waited for Zitao to freshen up and then he placed his hand against Zitao’s tender flesh again. And because Zitao needed the comfort as much as he needed to breathe, he leaned into the warm touch.

 

“Zitao…” The stranger whispered across the table. “Do you want me to comfort you?”

 

Zitao nodded once, but it was enough. Yi Fan finished his coffee and stood. He was taller than what Zitao remembered from a few minutes ago. It was a great surprise. Yi Fan slid an arm around Zitao’s waist and held him up. Zitao let his tears flow silently as he was walked to a small apartment on the second floor of a shoe store. They didn’t stop when Yi Fan helped Zitao out of his coat and when he took him to the bedroom. They didn’t stop when Yi Fan pushed him back until he was laying flat on his back. Yi Fan kissed his forehead carefully, then he pulled Zitao until he was on top of him and just let the weight of the man crush him.

 

Zitao cried for a few minutes before he regained some of his senses, and lost them again when he tentatively pressed his lips to Yi Fan’s neck and that the latter responded by deposing one soft kiss on Zitao’s burning lips.

 

 

 

There was so much meaning inside that kiss and yet so little. But for Zitao it was everything, all that he needed. Whatever man this was, he had power of him. He had something that broke him even more than he already was. Yi Fan was annihilating him, piece by piece as he let himself be swept away by soft kisses.

 

“Don’t cry.” Yi Fan ordered between kisses. His hands covered Zitao’s shoulders, his fingers moved up and down his neck, sending little shivers down his spine. “Why are you crying?”

 

“Because…” Zitao took a deep breath. “Because I need you. So much.”

 

Yi Fan knew what kind of need Zitao was talking about, and even though he was in bed with a man he barely, he didn’t feel inadequate in the least bit. This felt right. It was just going to be all right.

author's notes: I miss you so ing much.

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