The Protector [1/2]
Title: The Protector [1/2]
Author: FloweryMisha
Pairing: TaoChen
Warning: BoyxBoy love. Enough said.
Summary: Jongdae fell for the man who was destined to die for him.
Author’s Note: So I was writing my KrisHo and suddenly this happened and OH MY GOD WHAT IS THIS FAILURE OTL Please don’t hesitate to stop reading halfway because it’s really terrible ;n; probably will be the first and the last TaoChen I will ever write... and look at the lame title bleh
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 unusual 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 ass.
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 training 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 training 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 training 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, a 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?
[2]
It's not too late to turn back ;n;
Author: FloweryMisha
Pairing: TaoChen
Warning: BoyxBoy love. Enough said.
Summary: Jongdae fell for the man who was destined to die for him.
Author’s Note: So I was writing my KrisHo and suddenly this happened and OH MY GOD WHAT IS THIS FAILURE OTL Please don’t hesitate to stop reading halfway because it’s really terrible ;n; probably will be the first and the last TaoChen I will ever write... and look at the lame title bleh
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 unusual 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 ass.
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 training 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 training 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 training 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, a 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?
[2]
It's not too late to turn back ;n;