threadbare [2/4]
MASSIVE WARNING What you are about to read touches upon very sensitive, sometimes triggering topics. Please proceed with caution and only do so if you are okay with voluntarily exposing yourself to descriptive molestation of a minor, rape, violence, suicide, and severe mental illness. Thank you.
On the first day, Zitao was angry. He’d trusted Yifan so much, had told him things that he’d never been able to tell anyone, and because he made one mistake, Yifan threw him away. Zitao became so angry that he cried, and he hadn’t cried since he was a child.
On the second day, Zitao got an idea. He went to a nearby PC room, paid for three hours’ worth of usage, then got to work. He knew Yifan’s first name, knew his surname, and knew the city in which he worked. After jumping through a few hoops, he had an address and phone number, too.
On the third day, Zitao traveled to Guangzhou.
Guangdong, Guangzhou, Yuexiu District, 2615 Block C, No. 39 Jianshe Road, Apartment 320
“Good afternoon, Yifan ge,” Zitao said as the door to the apartment opened and Yifan stood before him, bewilderment across his face. He held out a plastic bag with drinks and snacks in it toward Yifan. “I bought this from you before I left Shenzhen.”
“How did you… how did you find out where I live?” Yifan stammered.
Zitao smiled. “The internet is a powerful thing.” He let himself in, and Yifan could do nothing but stand stone-still and ponder what on earth was happening.
“I wanted to apologize for the other day,” Zitao said. “The way I acted was out of line, and I invaded your personal space. I’m deeply sorry.”
“You’re further invading my personal space by researching my address and waltzing into my apartment like this,” Yifan said, turning to face him but leaving the door open. “I need you to leave, or I’m calling the police.”
“Why do you always threaten me with the police? I’m afraid of the police,” Zitao said. “I don’t mean any harm. I only felt that I’d become very fond of you, and it hurt me when you told Doctor Chang to tell me not to come back. You’re the only person I have that is willing to understand the things I’ve gone through.” Zitao frowned and slowly approached Yifan. “If I can’t be your patient, just… let me be your friend. I wasn’t socialized as a child, so I have no idea how these things work. I didn’t know it was wrong to look up your address on the internet and just show up.”
Yifan was searching the farthest reaches of his psyche for a reason why he was behaving so naively when it came to Zitao. He was clearly unstable, and quite possibly a real danger, but Yifan was torn between dragging him to an institution and taking him under his wing and trying to cure him himself.
Zitao ate with such voracity that Yifan wondered if he rarely ate. The time that they could have spent talking was instead filled with the endless clacking of Zitao’s chopsticks and the sound of him eating noisily.
“You’ll get a stomachache if you keep eating so quickly,” Yifan said at last, and Zitao stopped mid-bite. He coyly pulled the chopsticks from between his lips and set them down across his bowl of rice.
“You cook very well, ge,” Zitao said.
“Yifan is fine,” Yifan corrected, and Zitao nodded. “When does the last bus back to Shenzhen leave?”
“Back to Shenzhen?” Zitao chuckled nervously and rubbed the back of his neck. “I was hoping I could stay here. J-just for tonight… I don’t like traveling when it’s dark.”
Yifan gestured at the window. “It’s still light out.”
“Yes, but by the time I get back to Shenzhen, it’ll be dark,” Zitao said.
Yifan sighed. “I don’t think it’s appropriate for you to be here any longer, Zitao. I gave you a meal, and that’s all I feel I should give you.”
“Why is it inappropriate? You’re not my doctor anymore, and I’m not your patient. We’re just two people who know each other, that’s all.” Zitao smiled in spite of the fact that Yifan was devoid of emotion.
“I don’t feel comfortable having you here,” Yifan tried again.
“Is it because of what I did to you the other day? I already apologized, and I meant it. I won’t do anything like that again. I really enjoy your company, Yifan, even if you don’t enjoy mine. I want to become a better person, and I think I can only achieve that with your help.” Zitao picked up his chopsticks again and began to idly poke at what was left of his rice.
If Yifan had to choose one word at that very moment with which to describe Zitao, he would pick “manipulative.” Something about Zitao and the things he was saying felt genuine, and Yifan wanted to give him the benefit of a doubt. At the same time, Zitao was “damaged goods” - he was the way he was because that was how he raised himself. If he was manipulative now, he was manipulative before and Yifan was just falling in line with the rest of them.
But Zitao seemed sincere when he said he wanted to change, to be fixed. He couldn’t possibly be happy with the way he’d been for almost his entire life, so Yifan felt obliged to believe him.
“You can sleep on the couch.” Zitao looked up at Yifan, beaming. “But I want you to leave when I do.”
“Yes, of course,” Zitao said, nodding.
“It’s going to be an early night. My first patient comes in at eight in the morning. I’ll get you a blanket.” Yifan stood up from the table and went into his bedroom. Zitao followed him with his eyes, smiling to himself once Yifan was out of eyeshot.
Zitao spent hours in the darkness staring up at the ceiling, long after Yifan had retired to his bedroom and locked the door behind him. Yifan was really afraid of him, it seemed, and he had good reason to be.
Zitao counted Yifan’s snores. The sound of his sleep continued for fifteen consecutive minutes, so Zitao decided that he was safe to move around and not get caught off-guard by Yifan.
He found a paperclip on the table in front of the couch and fashioned it into a lock pick. He crept on the tips of his toes to Yifan’s door, slid his makeshift pick into the keyhole, and, after maneuvering for a bit, sighed as the lock tumbled to an open position. He slowly pushed the door open, and his breath caught as he took in the sight of Yifan fast asleep.
Yifan slept on his stomach in a sprawled position, one leg bent up toward his side and left uncovered by his blankets, the other perfectly straight and toeing the edge of the mattress. One arm hung off of the bed, and the other pinned under his head. His snoring had grown softer, his lips slightly parted.
Seeing Yifan like this made Zitao’s heart swell. He was already so perfect when he was put together and showcasing his intelligence, but now that he seemed, in a way, real and normal, he was even more perfect. If he could, Zitao would cross the room and kiss his lips, run his hand up his long legs, curl into the bed beside him and feed off of his warmth.
But he couldn’t, and even if he could he knew he shouldn’t. He wasn’t trying to scare Yifan off, especially not after what happened the first time. Yifan wasn’t like all of the weak-minded people from Zitao’s past. He had to work on his approach if he wanted to keep Yifan in his corner.
The longer Zitao stood there in the doorway and watched Yifan sleep, the more his love and admiration for his former doctor transformed into painful want and lust. Zitao wanted to be welcome in that bed, to be felt by Yifan’s hands, to know what it felt like when Yifan made love to him and treated his body like it were made of porcelain.
Zitao tried to keep quiet as he stroked himself to Yifan’s sleeping form, picturing the man awake and thrusting deep into him and telling him that he loved him and digging his nails into his ass and making him quiver with pleasure. Zitao clawed at his shirt and put the collar in his mouth to stifle his breathing and keep him from moaning, watching closely to see if Yifan moved at all.
Knowing that Yifan could easily wake up and see him there both aroused and terrified him. Maybe Yifan would like it, and ask Zitao to join him in bed so that he could completely ravage his body. The more reasonable scenario, though, would be Yifan springing out of bed and calling the police and getting him hauled away, never to see Yifan again.
As the thought of the police flooded his mind, Zitao tugged harder, faster, trying to finish before his thoughts stopped him. He clutched the doorjamb with his free hand as he came, and he had the presence of mind to try to catch it all in his fist because he may not have enough time to clean up the mess if any got onto the floor.
Gentle convulsions shook Zitao’s body and he stumbled back a bit, taking a few seconds to catch his breath before he shut the door and went to wash his hand.
Yifan woke early the next morning to Zitao washing plates and bowls from last night’s dinner.
“You don’t need to do that,” Yifan said, and Zitao jumped in surprise before glancing over his shoulder.
“I know, but I kept thinking about the fact that you were going to have such a long day at work and then you’d have to come home to wash all these dishes,” Zitao said. “And since I invited myself over, I thought I would repay you for putting up with me by giving you one less chore to do at the end of the day.” He looked back at Yifan again, for longer this time, and smiled.
It seemed like all of Yifan’s years of studying the human mind and mapping out the reasons why people did the things they did were amounting to nothing in that moment. Zitao wasn’t being himself at all, regardless of his plea to Yifan to help him reform. There was some sort of ulterior motive behind Zitao’s actions, but Yifan couldn’t place it for the life of him.
“Well, I’ll be leaving soon, so you won’t have time to finish washing those. Just leave them and wait for me to get dressed,” Yifan said.
“There’s only a few left! I can finish them in the time it takes for you to shower and get dressed,” Zitao said.
It bothered Yifan that Zitao was so adamant about doing the dishes even after he specifically told him not to, but he didn’t venture to press the issue. He would appreciate not having to be elbow-deep in sudsy, greasy water after a day of dealing with depressed, suicidal, bipolar patients, so he’d let Zitao continue what he started.
After all, he wouldn’t have to deal with Zitao after today. He may as well take advantage of it.
“Alright, you know your way to the bus station, right?” Yifan said as he and Zitao took the elevator down to the lobby.
“Yes,” Zitao said. Yifan saw him look at him out of the corner of his eye. “Ge - I mean, Yifan… I know you’ll say no, but I’m going to try it anyway.”
Yifan didn’t look at him, only steeled himself for whatever Zitao was about to spring on him.
“I don’t have any support in Shenzhen. You know about my mom, and I don’t have any friends. I feel like if I spend any more time there, any progress you help me make will just disappear. So… I was wondering if you would let me stay with you -“
“No.” Yifan watched the numbers above the elevator door, jaw clenched.
“Okay. I understand.” Zitao looked away then glanced back shyly. “If you let me stay, I would leave the apartment when you go to work and come back when you get out. I wouldn’t do anything bad… because I would want you to keep me around.” Yifan breathed long and deep through his nose, and somehow Zitao got the gist. “But it’s okay. I understand.”
Zitao remained silent as they left the elevator, walked through the lobby, and went through the revolving door to the outside.
“Well, thank you for letting me spend the night,” Zitao said as Yifan paused to get his car keys from his back pocket. “I really appreciate it.”
“Have a safe trip home,” Yifan mumbled as he hit the unlock button on the car remote and walked around to the driver’s side. He got in and turned on the car, then sat and stared at Zitao as if he were waiting to see that he was gone before he moved off.
Zitao began to walk away, and Yifan sighed and shut his car off again.
“Zitao,” Yifan said, one foot in the car and one out of it. “If you’re serious about getting help…”
“I am,” Zitao said.
“Alright. You go back to Shenzhen… I’ll work something out. I’ll contact you.”
Zitao nodded and continued on his way. He was sure that “work something out” didn’t mean Yifan was going to let him stay with him in his apartment, but he’d take anything as long as it meant being close to him.
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