Of Black-tie Affairs, Balconies, and Confessions
Title: Of Black-tie Affairs, Balconies, and Confessions
Pairing: TaoRis
Rating: PG
Genre: Romance, Fluff
Length: 3200~w
Summary: Huang Zitao hates heights, people, Yixing, and Kris. But he loves balconies. And Kris.
of black-tie affairs, balconies, and confessions
Huang Zitao wasn’t scared of many things.
He was proud of himself for being one of those people who were seemingly fearless. He wasn’t scared of spiders, unlike Wufan who had jumped onto his bed and began shrieking like a five-year-old girl when he saw a Black Widow scurry past. He wasn’t scared of the dark, unlike Jongdae who had lost all pretense of being cool and sauve and nearly blasted out Zitao’s eardrums when there was a black-out in school…in the middle of the day. And, he wasn’t like Yixing, who had an unnatural fear for stuffed bears (although that may be because Zitao had nearly smothered Yixing with his toy panda when they were small).
However, there were two things he was scared of. Terrified of, in fact.
One was heights, and the other was people.
Ever since his first spin on the Ferris wheel when he was seven, he had vowed to never go above twenty feet off the ground again. Not surprisingly, he was promptly dragged-screaming and kicking-to the roof of his school the next day by Yixing, who had found his phobia terribly amusing and had merely laughed at the whimpering Zitao crouched by the door to the roof.
Years later, the fear still stayed with him and became one of the two banes of his existence (the other being Yixing). Yixing had never let him hear the end of it, and Zitao was constantly faced with the never-ending onslaught of teases from him. And it was times like those when Zitao questioned his sanity for having Yixing as his best friend.
But then again, if Yixing wasn’t his friend, he’d have none at all, being the shy, awkward introvert he was. He was only friends with Yixing because the kid had pressed himself upon Zitao ever since he had learned to walk. He was only friends with Wufan because Yixing had been all too eager to befriend the new transfer student from Canada because apparently, he was part of a teen mafia back in America (Wufan mercilessly slaughtered Yixing’s dreams of becoming friends with a gangster by explaining that the bruise on his left cheek was from his sister who had whacked him in the face during one of her fits over how hot Taemin from SHINee was). And he was only friends with Jongdae because…Jongdae was weird like the rest of them and, for some reason unbeknownst to everyone, seemed to look up to Zitao and his awesome wushu skills.
Aside from his pitiful little circle (square?) of friends, Zitao rarely talked to anyone else, stuttering on his words even when speaking to a teacher. No one in his class ever thought of conversing with him either, all either ignoring him or forgetting he had ever existed. And Zitao preferred it that way; it made his life easier. He did not have to constantly worry about the judging thoughts of his classmates or about accidentally blurting out embarrassing information (which was a very common occurrence when he talked to strangers).
That was Huang Zitao’s short, two-item list of fears. Heights and people. Two fears that dominated his life, making up for all of the other things that he wasn’t scared of. If life could go his way, he’d stay forever on the ground, never going upstairs, and interacting with no one but his friends (who were his whole world, anyways).
And yet, he found himself standing outside of the Park Hotel in Shanghai, gulping as his eyes trailed up to the twenty-fourth, and highest, level, coincidentally (or not really) the venue for a black-tie affair Wufan had dragged him to.
It would be fun, he said.
It's not that high up, he said.
Not a lot of people were attending, he said.
“Yeah, right,” Zitao muttered to himself as he scanned the filled parking lot, every space occupied by an expensive-looking car.
As he neared the entrance to the hotel, he once again contemplated the idea of turning around and escaping back to the safety of his cozy apartment.
I’ll just call Wufan and tell him I’m sick…
But just as he was getting ready to hightail it back home, an all-too-familiar and all-too-dreaded voice called out to him.
“Hey man, what’s up? Wufan told me you were coming; I can’t believe you really were!”
Zitao suppressed a groan as Yixing bounded up to him and slung an arm over his shoulders. Zitao shrugged it off before letting himself be towed towards the glad double-doors. Yixing flashed the doorman a smile before showing him his invitation and tugging Zitao into the lobby and the elevator.
“So-”
“Oh my god, Yixing, what do I do? There are tons of people here, the venue is on the twenty-fourth floor for God’s sake, I don’t know anyone, I can’t function properly in a normal, casual atmosphere, let alone at a formal party, and oh my god, did I mention that the venue is on the twenty-fourth floor?”
Zitao inhaled sharply as he finished his mini-rant and slumped against the elevator wall, gazing glumly at his reflection.
“Aww, poor little Taotao, having to go to a black-tie event on the twenty-fourth floor,” Yixing said in a sickly sweet voice, patting Zitao on the shoulder. “Please, you mentioned that, like, fifty times already.”
“Don’t exaggerate! I swear I only mentioned it twice.”
Yixing rolled his eyes. “Two times, fifty times, same thing,” he dismissed with an airy wave of his hand.
“Why did you even agree to this in the first place, anyways?”
“I don’t know,” Zitao whimpered, sliding even closer to the floor, watching the red numbers indicating the floor numbers count down towards his death.
“Let me guess, Wufan asked, said some sweet words, and you immediately agreed,” Yixing said, staring at Zitao amusedly, not giving any indication that he was going to help his friend up.
Zitao merely gave a little harrumph, neither confirming nor denying Yixing’s words.
Well, that wasn't exactly what happened, okay.
What had happened was that Wufan had called Zitao out for coffee nine in the morning on a Saturday and asked if he wanted to go with him the a business party some Korean company was holding in Shanghai. And Zitao, being the still half-asleep, love sick person he was, made the big mistake of looking into Wufan’s smoldering eyes, and the next thing he knew, Wufan was saying Great, I'll see you in two weeks then.
Then, the full-blown impact of the matter finally settled upon him. Plastering on a weak smile, he assured Wufan that he would be there at the seven p.m sharp and quickly excused himself, spending the next few hours or so crying into his stuffed panda about how stupid he was.
“Okay, I’m right, aren't I?” Yixing asked, taking a step closer to Zitao, who was now sitting on the floor, and prodding him with his foot.
“Shut up,” Zitao mumbled just as the ding of the elevator sounded, and the doors slid open, revealing a surprised Wufan.
Zitao immediately scrambled to his feet, fixing his tie and blazer, coughing a few times. He threw a desperate look at Yixing who had turned around, trying (and failing) to hide his laughter. With a frustrated sigh, Zitao gave Wufan a small smile, stepping cautiously out of the elevator, with Yixing following close behind, still chortling.
His breath caught in his throat as his eyes wandered around the large room in awe. Fresh white tablecloths covered the dozens of large, round tables filling the floor. Each table had a magnificent center piece made up of flowers that Zitao didn’t even know the name of. Every utensil was placed with care, and the napkins were folded into neat little flowers propped on the plate.
Suddenly, Zitao felt anxiety attack at his lungs. Beads of sweat popped up on his forehead, and he quickly wiped his palms on his slacks. Eyes wide with fear, he began to shift from one foot to another, unsure of what to do and wanting to do nothing but avoid hundreds of people that were attending the party.
“Thank you for coming,” Wufan whispered into Zitao’s ear, his warm breath brushing his skin.
Zitao stopped his fidgeting and looked up at Wufan, a bit surprised, but pleased nonetheless. He took a deep breath and bestowed upon him what was the first genuine smile of the day.
“You’re welcome,” he replied.
Wufan gave a small smile back and squeezed Zitao’s hand. Zitao’s heart did a little dance from the contact, and Maybe, Zitao thought, Just maybe, today wouldn't be that bad.
I…take that back.
Zitao was currently lodged between Luhan, son of the CEO of a big electronics company in Beijing, and Kim Minseok, son of the head of Korea’s education board. The two of them, apparently old frieds, were both trying to engage him in a conversation. And he was trying his best to not have a panic attack and start foaming at the mouth like Julius Caesar.
Oh my god, thank god I don't have epilepsy.
“So, Zitao, what do you work as?” Luhan asked, picking up his wine glass and clinking it with Minseok’s above Zitao’s head.
“Uh, I like pandas,” Zitao blurted out, staring at the deep burgundy liquid sloshing around in Luhan’s cup.
Luhan raised an eyebrow and looked at Zitao, confused.
“I-I mean,” Zitao quickly corrected himself, flushing red. “I’m a free-lance artist.”
Luhan and Minseok both laughed good-naturedly, relieving some of the tension Zitao was feeling.
“That’s cool,” Luhan said earnestly. “Do you have any exhibitions coming up?”
“Actually, I have one in New York this December,” Zitao said shyly.
“Nice. Don’t be surprised if we show up there.” Luhan gave a cheesy wink, pulling a smile out of Zitao.
“Who organizes your events?” Minseok asked. “Do you have a manager of some sort?”
“Um, either Wufan or Yixing plan everything out and do the oral presentations,” Zitao explained. “I’m…a bit inept when it comes to talking to people.”
“Right. Since obviously, ‘I like pandas’ is synonymous with ‘free-lance artist’,” Luhan teased.
Zitao blushed deeper, much to the amusement of the two.
“Quit teasing him, Luhan,” Minseok scolded. “Don’t mind him,” he said to Zitao. “He’s always like this, teasing and unserious. It actually means he likes you. If he’s suddenly serious, you’ve either done something to piss him off or his boyfriend didn’t call him back.”
“That is not true!” Luhan insisted, pouting a little. “I’m always serious.”
Minseok and Zitao exchanged glances before bursting out into laughter. Ignoring Luhan’s protests, the two of them continued to lightly tease Luhan. For once, Zitao felt comfortable with strangers, talking and laughing like he did with his friends. Soon though, Minseok was pulled away by the principal of the Shanghai Fudan University, and Luhan (with his serious face) was distracted by the CEO of a camera manufacturing company something or other. Before they left, however, they exchanged numbers with Zitao, promising to see him in New York for his exhibition.
“And maybe you can see the overly cheesy and sweet person Luhan is when he’s with his boyfriend,” Minseok joked before leaving.
Zitao, now alone at the table, twirled his place card around in his fingers. He observed Luhan and Minseok, feeling slightly envious of their eloquence and easy confidence. If only he had the same conversing skills. With a sigh, he picked up his wine glass and swirled the liquid inside.
“What’s with the long face?”
Zitao looked up to see Wufan sliding into the chair next to him.
“It's nothing,” Zitao muttered.
“Sorry, this is boring for you, isn’t it?” Wufan said apologetically.
“No, no, it’s alright,” Zitao said, waving it off.
“It’s just that my parents wanted me to bring someone with me,” Wufan explained, running his fingers through his hair.
Zitao felt a flutter in his stomach as he tried desperately to not stare at Wufan’s face and admire his clear, flawless forehead.
“I-it’s okay,” Zitao said quickly.
“Thank you so much, Zitao. By the way, I was g-“
“Mr. Wu, it’s been so long!” A beautiful, voluptuous woman in a stunning red dress sashayed towards them out of nowhere, interrupting Wufan.
“Ah, Miss Im, indeed, it’s been a while. I trust that you’ve fared well?” Wufan said politely, standing up and turning away from Zitao.
“As well as I could in China, Mr. Wu. I hope my Mandarin has improved.”
“Exponentially, Miss Im. Your progress is quite remarkable,” Wufan replied.
“Empty flatters mean nothing to me,” she said playfully, her eyes twinkling.
“Of course not. But I truly mean it, Miss Im.”
“Yoona,” she corrected him.
Wufan gave a small bow. “Then please call me Wufan.”
“Wufan,” she said, testing the name on her tongue before grinning. “I like it.”
Then, her eyes trailed to Zitao, looking him up and down in a curious manner. “Who’s this, Wufan?”
Zitao quickly stood up, muttering an incoherable introduction and bowing.
“He’s Huang Zitao,” Wufan said with an amused laugh. “He’s a good friend of mine.”
Yoona nodded and offered her hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Huang.”
“P-please call me Zitao,” Zitao said nervously, taking her hand and shaking it once.
Yoona gave him a sweet smile before taking a seat next to Wufan, engaging him in a conversation about total revenues and marginal revenues and whatnot. Zitao sat, forgotten, watching the two of them closely.
He could sense the chemistry and the closeness of the two, despite their formal words earlier. After all, the smile Wufan gave Yoona wasn’t one he gave everyone.
Zitao tore his eyes away from the golden couple and went back to picking at his salad. With a heavy heart, he shoved a cherry tomato in his mouth, nearly choking. From the corner of his eye, he could see Wufan look at him with concern, before Yoona asked another question. Then, he once again gave his full attention to Yoona.
Suddenly, the room felt too stuffy and too cramped. The hushed voices seemed to grow louder, pounding in Zitao’s ears and head. His breaths came in short gasps, and he quickly tugged at his tie, loosening it, though it did little to relieve his labored breathing. He searched the room desperately for Yixing (since Wufan was still busy with Yoona), only to find him leaving the room with a dark-skinned man. Cursing him in his mind, Zitao promised to destroy Yixing’s unicorn plushy the next time he went over to his house.
Breathing deeply, he loosened his tie even more.
Then, with the greatest timing ever, a brunette woman in tall stilettos came strutting over to him, demanding in an obnoxious voice to know his name, his age, his occupation, his family background, and his phone number. Zitao stared disbelieving at the girl and shook his head apologetically, still gasping for air. She cocked her head confused, and Zitao just mouthed never mind before standing up and pushing past her.
“Wufan, can you-“
Yoona and Wufan both turned towards him, one with curioussity and the other with concern.
“I’m sorry, Zitao, I’m a bit busy right now,” Wufan said apologetically, his eyes pleading for forgiveness.
“We’re talking about the contract my father had been pining after for months,” he added, whispering. “Just go to the balcony or something, okay?”
Zitao blinked a few times, before nodding slowly, still taking deep breaths. With a weak smile, he bowed once more to Yoona and made a beeline to the glass doors leading to the balcony.
Tears stung at his eyes as he felt rejection and disappointment cloud his mind and brain. He shouldn’t have been surprised, he thought bitterly. But he thought… he really thought that Wufan would’ve remembered.
He really thought that Wufan would’ve remembered his fear of heights.
The balcony was deserted, and Zitao immediately collapsed onto one of the lawn chairs placed there.
Thankfully, it was quite far from the railing, so he felt no apprehension ywt. As the heavy, sound-proof doors slid close with a muted thud, Zitao finally felt his mind clear. His body relaxed as he closed his eyes and enjoyed the feeling of solitude.
When he opened them, his breathing was normal again, and his mind clearer than ever. An odd sense of exhilaration swept over him as his eyes fell on the glass border of the balcony. Without realizing it, he was standing up and slowly walking over to the edge.
As he neared it, he felt his knees become weak and his heart pound faster. His vision blurred at the edges, but he gritted his teeth and persisted, increasing his steps from centimeters to inches. He squeezed his eyes shut, a dangerous move indeed, and blindly took the last few steps towards the edge.
When his hands touched the cool glass, his eyes flew open, and his breath caught in his throat.
He wasn’t sure if it was from fear or awe. The normal sick feeling in his stomach was absent, replaced by a light ecstasy as he gazed at the swimming pool below. The sun had already gone down, and the velvet curtains of the sky skirted around the twinkling stars. Zitao stared, amazed, at the deep blue swimming pool shining like a sapphire jewel under the lights. The ripples of the water seemed calming, almost as if they were humming a lullaby that everybody knows but nobody could hear.
Zitao wanted to hear it. He wanted to hear the melody the water droplets were singing. He wanted to be the person who could do things other people can’t, just for once. He took a deep breath and leaned forward.
“What in God’s name do you think you’re doing?” A voice growled as a pair of hands yanked him back.
“Wufan,” he breathed, adrenaline lacing his voice.
“Why were you leaning over the freaking rail,” Wufan demanded, spinning Zitao to face him. “Don’t you kn-“
His words caught in his throat as he gazed into Zitao’s clear, watery orbs.
“Wufan,” Zitao repeated, his voice trembling and hoarse. “Wufan.”
The first tear escaped, sliding freely down his cheek, and then suddenly, the dam broke loose.
“Don’t cry,” Wufan murmured desperately. “Please, don’t.”
He brushed away Zitao’s tears, rubbing soothing circles on his cheeks. “Please. I hate it when you cry. It…it hurts me too.”
Zitao looked up at him questioningly, his eyes wide and still brimming with tears, and hiccupped.
“I’m sorry, Zitao. I-I forgot you were scared of heights, I’m so sorry,” Wufan whispered, horrified when the thought finally struck him.
He began pulling Zitao towards the glass doors but was surprised with Zitao’s resistance. Zitao shook his head, wiping his tears roughly.
“I’m so stupid,” Zitao said. “I don’t even know why I’m crying.” He gave a small laugh. “You must think I’m lame, don’t you?”
“No, of co-“
“It’s okay, you can go back inside. Yoona’s probably waiting for you, isn’t she?” Zitao said, trying to keep his voice light and cheerful.
“What does Yoona ha-“ Kris began, breaking off suddenly as his eyes searched Zitao’s face.
Oh.
He hadn’t missed the hurt that flashed through Zitao’s eyes when he said her name.
Oooh.
A wave of understanding crashed into him, but instead of relief, he only felt anger.
“Wait, so you were jealous of Yoona, so you came here and nearly committed suicide?” Wufan screeched, trying to ignore the fact that Zitao’s heeks had just turned a delicious pink.
“I didn’t-what-you and her-that wasn’t committing suicide-I don’t-I was not jealous!” Zitao stuttered, flushing red.
“Huang Zitao, don’t you dare lie to me.” Wufan’s tone was serious and commanding, his eyes flashing dangerously.
“I…just wanted to see how the world looked upside down…” Zitao said lamely.
Wufan raised an unamused eyebrow and stalked closer to Zitao until he was looking down on him, face mere inches away.
“I said, don't you dare lie to me,” Wufan whispered, his eyes searching Zitao’s.
Zitao gulped and tried to back away, only to have his elbows hit the glass railing. His knees felt weak again, but for an entirely different reason. Wufan’s gaze seemed to have melted his brain along with all two hundred and eight bones he had.
“I…” Zitao began.
“You?” Wufan breathed, leaning impossibly close.
“I think I’m in love with you,” Zitao blurted, squeezing his eyes shut in humiliation as the words escaped his mouth.
Wufan blinked before letting a smirk creep onto his face. “You think?”
“Y-yeah! I think!” Zitao stuttered, eyes still closed.
Wufan grinned and his lips closed the last few centimeters distance from Zitao’s. He snuck an arm around Zitao’s waist and the other behind his head, pulling him closer to him as he molded his lips against his. Zitao’s eyes flew open with shock, and he raised his arms to weakly shove Wufan away. Wufan chuckled at the half-hearted action and finally pulled away, only to take a breath and kiss Zitao again. This time, Zitao kissed back, wrapping his arms around Wufan’s neck.
When they finally broke apart, Wufan pulled Zitao backwards with him, so they were away from the edge of the balcony. Zitao felt a warm feeling settle in him as he noticed the considerate action. Wufan smiled and leaned his forehead against Zitao’s.
“You know what? I think I’m in love with you too,” Wufan said cheerfully, before swooping in and stealing another kiss.
Zitao laughed between their many kisses. “You think?” He asked, breathless, repeating Wufan’s words.
“Yeah,” Wufan replied with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “I think.”
When Wufan leaned down again, his words brushed against Zitao’s lips, sending a shiver down his spine and a tingle straight into his heart, tugging at his heart strings.
“I love you, Huang Zitao.”
Maybe, Zitao thought, Just maybe, today wasn’t that bad after all.
Pairing: TaoRis
Rating: PG
Genre: Romance, Fluff
Length: 3200~w
Summary: Huang Zitao hates heights, people, Yixing, and Kris. But he loves balconies. And Kris.
of black-tie affairs, balconies, and confessions
Huang Zitao wasn’t scared of many things.
He was proud of himself for being one of those people who were seemingly fearless. He wasn’t scared of spiders, unlike Wufan who had jumped onto his bed and began shrieking like a five-year-old girl when he saw a Black Widow scurry past. He wasn’t scared of the dark, unlike Jongdae who had lost all pretense of being cool and sauve and nearly blasted out Zitao’s eardrums when there was a black-out in school…in the middle of the day. And, he wasn’t like Yixing, who had an unnatural fear for stuffed bears (although that may be because Zitao had nearly smothered Yixing with his toy panda when they were small).
However, there were two things he was scared of. Terrified of, in fact.
One was heights, and the other was people.
Ever since his first spin on the Ferris wheel when he was seven, he had vowed to never go above twenty feet off the ground again. Not surprisingly, he was promptly dragged-screaming and kicking-to the roof of his school the next day by Yixing, who had found his phobia terribly amusing and had merely laughed at the whimpering Zitao crouched by the door to the roof.
Years later, the fear still stayed with him and became one of the two banes of his existence (the other being Yixing). Yixing had never let him hear the end of it, and Zitao was constantly faced with the never-ending onslaught of teases from him. And it was times like those when Zitao questioned his sanity for having Yixing as his best friend.
But then again, if Yixing wasn’t his friend, he’d have none at all, being the shy, awkward introvert he was. He was only friends with Yixing because the kid had pressed himself upon Zitao ever since he had learned to walk. He was only friends with Wufan because Yixing had been all too eager to befriend the new transfer student from Canada because apparently, he was part of a teen mafia back in America (Wufan mercilessly slaughtered Yixing’s dreams of becoming friends with a gangster by explaining that the bruise on his left cheek was from his sister who had whacked him in the face during one of her fits over how hot Taemin from SHINee was). And he was only friends with Jongdae because…Jongdae was weird like the rest of them and, for some reason unbeknownst to everyone, seemed to look up to Zitao and his awesome wushu skills.
Aside from his pitiful little circle (square?) of friends, Zitao rarely talked to anyone else, stuttering on his words even when speaking to a teacher. No one in his class ever thought of conversing with him either, all either ignoring him or forgetting he had ever existed. And Zitao preferred it that way; it made his life easier. He did not have to constantly worry about the judging thoughts of his classmates or about accidentally blurting out embarrassing information (which was a very common occurrence when he talked to strangers).
That was Huang Zitao’s short, two-item list of fears. Heights and people. Two fears that dominated his life, making up for all of the other things that he wasn’t scared of. If life could go his way, he’d stay forever on the ground, never going upstairs, and interacting with no one but his friends (who were his whole world, anyways).
And yet, he found himself standing outside of the Park Hotel in Shanghai, gulping as his eyes trailed up to the twenty-fourth, and highest, level, coincidentally (or not really) the venue for a black-tie affair Wufan had dragged him to.
It would be fun, he said.
It's not that high up, he said.
Not a lot of people were attending, he said.
“Yeah, right,” Zitao muttered to himself as he scanned the filled parking lot, every space occupied by an expensive-looking car.
As he neared the entrance to the hotel, he once again contemplated the idea of turning around and escaping back to the safety of his cozy apartment.
I’ll just call Wufan and tell him I’m sick…
But just as he was getting ready to hightail it back home, an all-too-familiar and all-too-dreaded voice called out to him.
“Hey man, what’s up? Wufan told me you were coming; I can’t believe you really were!”
Zitao suppressed a groan as Yixing bounded up to him and slung an arm over his shoulders. Zitao shrugged it off before letting himself be towed towards the glad double-doors. Yixing flashed the doorman a smile before showing him his invitation and tugging Zitao into the lobby and the elevator.
“So-”
“Oh my god, Yixing, what do I do? There are tons of people here, the venue is on the twenty-fourth floor for God’s sake, I don’t know anyone, I can’t function properly in a normal, casual atmosphere, let alone at a formal party, and oh my god, did I mention that the venue is on the twenty-fourth floor?”
Zitao inhaled sharply as he finished his mini-rant and slumped against the elevator wall, gazing glumly at his reflection.
“Aww, poor little Taotao, having to go to a black-tie event on the twenty-fourth floor,” Yixing said in a sickly sweet voice, patting Zitao on the shoulder. “Please, you mentioned that, like, fifty times already.”
“Don’t exaggerate! I swear I only mentioned it twice.”
Yixing rolled his eyes. “Two times, fifty times, same thing,” he dismissed with an airy wave of his hand.
“Why did you even agree to this in the first place, anyways?”
“I don’t know,” Zitao whimpered, sliding even closer to the floor, watching the red numbers indicating the floor numbers count down towards his death.
“Let me guess, Wufan asked, said some sweet words, and you immediately agreed,” Yixing said, staring at Zitao amusedly, not giving any indication that he was going to help his friend up.
Zitao merely gave a little harrumph, neither confirming nor denying Yixing’s words.
Well, that wasn't exactly what happened, okay.
What had happened was that Wufan had called Zitao out for coffee nine in the morning on a Saturday and asked if he wanted to go with him the a business party some Korean company was holding in Shanghai. And Zitao, being the still half-asleep, love sick person he was, made the big mistake of looking into Wufan’s smoldering eyes, and the next thing he knew, Wufan was saying Great, I'll see you in two weeks then.
Then, the full-blown impact of the matter finally settled upon him. Plastering on a weak smile, he assured Wufan that he would be there at the seven p.m sharp and quickly excused himself, spending the next few hours or so crying into his stuffed panda about how stupid he was.
“Okay, I’m right, aren't I?” Yixing asked, taking a step closer to Zitao, who was now sitting on the floor, and prodding him with his foot.
“Shut up,” Zitao mumbled just as the ding of the elevator sounded, and the doors slid open, revealing a surprised Wufan.
Zitao immediately scrambled to his feet, fixing his tie and blazer, coughing a few times. He threw a desperate look at Yixing who had turned around, trying (and failing) to hide his laughter. With a frustrated sigh, Zitao gave Wufan a small smile, stepping cautiously out of the elevator, with Yixing following close behind, still chortling.
His breath caught in his throat as his eyes wandered around the large room in awe. Fresh white tablecloths covered the dozens of large, round tables filling the floor. Each table had a magnificent center piece made up of flowers that Zitao didn’t even know the name of. Every utensil was placed with care, and the napkins were folded into neat little flowers propped on the plate.
Suddenly, Zitao felt anxiety attack at his lungs. Beads of sweat popped up on his forehead, and he quickly wiped his palms on his slacks. Eyes wide with fear, he began to shift from one foot to another, unsure of what to do and wanting to do nothing but avoid hundreds of people that were attending the party.
“Thank you for coming,” Wufan whispered into Zitao’s ear, his warm breath brushing his skin.
Zitao stopped his fidgeting and looked up at Wufan, a bit surprised, but pleased nonetheless. He took a deep breath and bestowed upon him what was the first genuine smile of the day.
“You’re welcome,” he replied.
Wufan gave a small smile back and squeezed Zitao’s hand. Zitao’s heart did a little dance from the contact, and Maybe, Zitao thought, Just maybe, today wouldn't be that bad.
I…take that back.
Zitao was currently lodged between Luhan, son of the CEO of a big electronics company in Beijing, and Kim Minseok, son of the head of Korea’s education board. The two of them, apparently old frieds, were both trying to engage him in a conversation. And he was trying his best to not have a panic attack and start foaming at the mouth like Julius Caesar.
Oh my god, thank god I don't have epilepsy.
“So, Zitao, what do you work as?” Luhan asked, picking up his wine glass and clinking it with Minseok’s above Zitao’s head.
“Uh, I like pandas,” Zitao blurted out, staring at the deep burgundy liquid sloshing around in Luhan’s cup.
Luhan raised an eyebrow and looked at Zitao, confused.
“I-I mean,” Zitao quickly corrected himself, flushing red. “I’m a free-lance artist.”
Luhan and Minseok both laughed good-naturedly, relieving some of the tension Zitao was feeling.
“That’s cool,” Luhan said earnestly. “Do you have any exhibitions coming up?”
“Actually, I have one in New York this December,” Zitao said shyly.
“Nice. Don’t be surprised if we show up there.” Luhan gave a cheesy wink, pulling a smile out of Zitao.
“Who organizes your events?” Minseok asked. “Do you have a manager of some sort?”
“Um, either Wufan or Yixing plan everything out and do the oral presentations,” Zitao explained. “I’m…a bit inept when it comes to talking to people.”
“Right. Since obviously, ‘I like pandas’ is synonymous with ‘free-lance artist’,” Luhan teased.
Zitao blushed deeper, much to the amusement of the two.
“Quit teasing him, Luhan,” Minseok scolded. “Don’t mind him,” he said to Zitao. “He’s always like this, teasing and unserious. It actually means he likes you. If he’s suddenly serious, you’ve either done something to piss him off or his boyfriend didn’t call him back.”
“That is not true!” Luhan insisted, pouting a little. “I’m always serious.”
Minseok and Zitao exchanged glances before bursting out into laughter. Ignoring Luhan’s protests, the two of them continued to lightly tease Luhan. For once, Zitao felt comfortable with strangers, talking and laughing like he did with his friends. Soon though, Minseok was pulled away by the principal of the Shanghai Fudan University, and Luhan (with his serious face) was distracted by the CEO of a camera manufacturing company something or other. Before they left, however, they exchanged numbers with Zitao, promising to see him in New York for his exhibition.
“And maybe you can see the overly cheesy and sweet person Luhan is when he’s with his boyfriend,” Minseok joked before leaving.
Zitao, now alone at the table, twirled his place card around in his fingers. He observed Luhan and Minseok, feeling slightly envious of their eloquence and easy confidence. If only he had the same conversing skills. With a sigh, he picked up his wine glass and swirled the liquid inside.
“What’s with the long face?”
Zitao looked up to see Wufan sliding into the chair next to him.
“It's nothing,” Zitao muttered.
“Sorry, this is boring for you, isn’t it?” Wufan said apologetically.
“No, no, it’s alright,” Zitao said, waving it off.
“It’s just that my parents wanted me to bring someone with me,” Wufan explained, running his fingers through his hair.
Zitao felt a flutter in his stomach as he tried desperately to not stare at Wufan’s face and admire his clear, flawless forehead.
“I-it’s okay,” Zitao said quickly.
“Thank you so much, Zitao. By the way, I was g-“
“Mr. Wu, it’s been so long!” A beautiful, voluptuous woman in a stunning red dress sashayed towards them out of nowhere, interrupting Wufan.
“Ah, Miss Im, indeed, it’s been a while. I trust that you’ve fared well?” Wufan said politely, standing up and turning away from Zitao.
“As well as I could in China, Mr. Wu. I hope my Mandarin has improved.”
“Exponentially, Miss Im. Your progress is quite remarkable,” Wufan replied.
“Empty flatters mean nothing to me,” she said playfully, her eyes twinkling.
“Of course not. But I truly mean it, Miss Im.”
“Yoona,” she corrected him.
Wufan gave a small bow. “Then please call me Wufan.”
“Wufan,” she said, testing the name on her tongue before grinning. “I like it.”
Then, her eyes trailed to Zitao, looking him up and down in a curious manner. “Who’s this, Wufan?”
Zitao quickly stood up, muttering an incoherable introduction and bowing.
“He’s Huang Zitao,” Wufan said with an amused laugh. “He’s a good friend of mine.”
Yoona nodded and offered her hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Huang.”
“P-please call me Zitao,” Zitao said nervously, taking her hand and shaking it once.
Yoona gave him a sweet smile before taking a seat next to Wufan, engaging him in a conversation about total revenues and marginal revenues and whatnot. Zitao sat, forgotten, watching the two of them closely.
He could sense the chemistry and the closeness of the two, despite their formal words earlier. After all, the smile Wufan gave Yoona wasn’t one he gave everyone.
Zitao tore his eyes away from the golden couple and went back to picking at his salad. With a heavy heart, he shoved a cherry tomato in his mouth, nearly choking. From the corner of his eye, he could see Wufan look at him with concern, before Yoona asked another question. Then, he once again gave his full attention to Yoona.
Suddenly, the room felt too stuffy and too cramped. The hushed voices seemed to grow louder, pounding in Zitao’s ears and head. His breaths came in short gasps, and he quickly tugged at his tie, loosening it, though it did little to relieve his labored breathing. He searched the room desperately for Yixing (since Wufan was still busy with Yoona), only to find him leaving the room with a dark-skinned man. Cursing him in his mind, Zitao promised to destroy Yixing’s unicorn plushy the next time he went over to his house.
Breathing deeply, he loosened his tie even more.
Then, with the greatest timing ever, a brunette woman in tall stilettos came strutting over to him, demanding in an obnoxious voice to know his name, his age, his occupation, his family background, and his phone number. Zitao stared disbelieving at the girl and shook his head apologetically, still gasping for air. She cocked her head confused, and Zitao just mouthed never mind before standing up and pushing past her.
“Wufan, can you-“
Yoona and Wufan both turned towards him, one with curioussity and the other with concern.
“I’m sorry, Zitao, I’m a bit busy right now,” Wufan said apologetically, his eyes pleading for forgiveness.
“We’re talking about the contract my father had been pining after for months,” he added, whispering. “Just go to the balcony or something, okay?”
Zitao blinked a few times, before nodding slowly, still taking deep breaths. With a weak smile, he bowed once more to Yoona and made a beeline to the glass doors leading to the balcony.
Tears stung at his eyes as he felt rejection and disappointment cloud his mind and brain. He shouldn’t have been surprised, he thought bitterly. But he thought… he really thought that Wufan would’ve remembered.
He really thought that Wufan would’ve remembered his fear of heights.
The balcony was deserted, and Zitao immediately collapsed onto one of the lawn chairs placed there.
Thankfully, it was quite far from the railing, so he felt no apprehension ywt. As the heavy, sound-proof doors slid close with a muted thud, Zitao finally felt his mind clear. His body relaxed as he closed his eyes and enjoyed the feeling of solitude.
When he opened them, his breathing was normal again, and his mind clearer than ever. An odd sense of exhilaration swept over him as his eyes fell on the glass border of the balcony. Without realizing it, he was standing up and slowly walking over to the edge.
As he neared it, he felt his knees become weak and his heart pound faster. His vision blurred at the edges, but he gritted his teeth and persisted, increasing his steps from centimeters to inches. He squeezed his eyes shut, a dangerous move indeed, and blindly took the last few steps towards the edge.
When his hands touched the cool glass, his eyes flew open, and his breath caught in his throat.
He wasn’t sure if it was from fear or awe. The normal sick feeling in his stomach was absent, replaced by a light ecstasy as he gazed at the swimming pool below. The sun had already gone down, and the velvet curtains of the sky skirted around the twinkling stars. Zitao stared, amazed, at the deep blue swimming pool shining like a sapphire jewel under the lights. The ripples of the water seemed calming, almost as if they were humming a lullaby that everybody knows but nobody could hear.
Zitao wanted to hear it. He wanted to hear the melody the water droplets were singing. He wanted to be the person who could do things other people can’t, just for once. He took a deep breath and leaned forward.
“What in God’s name do you think you’re doing?” A voice growled as a pair of hands yanked him back.
“Wufan,” he breathed, adrenaline lacing his voice.
“Why were you leaning over the freaking rail,” Wufan demanded, spinning Zitao to face him. “Don’t you kn-“
His words caught in his throat as he gazed into Zitao’s clear, watery orbs.
“Wufan,” Zitao repeated, his voice trembling and hoarse. “Wufan.”
The first tear escaped, sliding freely down his cheek, and then suddenly, the dam broke loose.
“Don’t cry,” Wufan murmured desperately. “Please, don’t.”
He brushed away Zitao’s tears, rubbing soothing circles on his cheeks. “Please. I hate it when you cry. It…it hurts me too.”
Zitao looked up at him questioningly, his eyes wide and still brimming with tears, and hiccupped.
“I’m sorry, Zitao. I-I forgot you were scared of heights, I’m so sorry,” Wufan whispered, horrified when the thought finally struck him.
He began pulling Zitao towards the glass doors but was surprised with Zitao’s resistance. Zitao shook his head, wiping his tears roughly.
“I’m so stupid,” Zitao said. “I don’t even know why I’m crying.” He gave a small laugh. “You must think I’m lame, don’t you?”
“No, of co-“
“It’s okay, you can go back inside. Yoona’s probably waiting for you, isn’t she?” Zitao said, trying to keep his voice light and cheerful.
“What does Yoona ha-“ Kris began, breaking off suddenly as his eyes searched Zitao’s face.
Oh.
He hadn’t missed the hurt that flashed through Zitao’s eyes when he said her name.
Oooh.
A wave of understanding crashed into him, but instead of relief, he only felt anger.
“Wait, so you were jealous of Yoona, so you came here and nearly committed suicide?” Wufan screeched, trying to ignore the fact that Zitao’s heeks had just turned a delicious pink.
“I didn’t-what-you and her-that wasn’t committing suicide-I don’t-I was not jealous!” Zitao stuttered, flushing red.
“Huang Zitao, don’t you dare lie to me.” Wufan’s tone was serious and commanding, his eyes flashing dangerously.
“I…just wanted to see how the world looked upside down…” Zitao said lamely.
Wufan raised an unamused eyebrow and stalked closer to Zitao until he was looking down on him, face mere inches away.
“I said, don't you dare lie to me,” Wufan whispered, his eyes searching Zitao’s.
Zitao gulped and tried to back away, only to have his elbows hit the glass railing. His knees felt weak again, but for an entirely different reason. Wufan’s gaze seemed to have melted his brain along with all two hundred and eight bones he had.
“I…” Zitao began.
“You?” Wufan breathed, leaning impossibly close.
“I think I’m in love with you,” Zitao blurted, squeezing his eyes shut in humiliation as the words escaped his mouth.
Wufan blinked before letting a smirk creep onto his face. “You think?”
“Y-yeah! I think!” Zitao stuttered, eyes still closed.
Wufan grinned and his lips closed the last few centimeters distance from Zitao’s. He snuck an arm around Zitao’s waist and the other behind his head, pulling him closer to him as he molded his lips against his. Zitao’s eyes flew open with shock, and he raised his arms to weakly shove Wufan away. Wufan chuckled at the half-hearted action and finally pulled away, only to take a breath and kiss Zitao again. This time, Zitao kissed back, wrapping his arms around Wufan’s neck.
When they finally broke apart, Wufan pulled Zitao backwards with him, so they were away from the edge of the balcony. Zitao felt a warm feeling settle in him as he noticed the considerate action. Wufan smiled and leaned his forehead against Zitao’s.
“You know what? I think I’m in love with you too,” Wufan said cheerfully, before swooping in and stealing another kiss.
Zitao laughed between their many kisses. “You think?” He asked, breathless, repeating Wufan’s words.
“Yeah,” Wufan replied with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “I think.”
When Wufan leaned down again, his words brushed against Zitao’s lips, sending a shiver down his spine and a tingle straight into his heart, tugging at his heart strings.
“I love you, Huang Zitao.”
Maybe, Zitao thought, Just maybe, today wasn’t that bad after all.