zayne li: angst
Imagine dating the Zayne Li, prodigy doctor, a man as renowned for his achievements as he is fawned over for his looks. He's tall, dark and handsome, and he's a doctor, and he's completely, utterly perfect. Sculpted from smooth ice, a man steady in both his words and his actions.
Oh, he makes you feel like you're at the top of the world. Flowers for every occasion, candlelit dinners whenever both of your schedules line up. The occasional velvet box of jewellery snuck into your dresser (he knows if you prefer gold or silver, what type of jewellery you wear the most; he always gets it right), the stacks of pancakes on the table ready for you on his days off. He gives you more than you ever thought you'd have.
But imagine that maybe, just maybe, you don't feel like you measure up to him. That everytime he kisses you or reaches for your hand in public, the eyes that settle on you are less than welcoming, that people look at you with curiosity, as if they too were wondering if you were good enough.
You were pretty. You were accomplished in your own field. You were proud of the things you had achieved.
But you weren't her.
Precious MC, with her beautiful hair and her eyes that lit up whenever she saw Zayne. She was a Deepspace Hunter. She was beautiful, and physically stronger than you despite her heart defect; she had known Zayne since childhood whereas you'd met him only years back. You were always falling short when you stood beside her. Slipping off the edge, watching as people's eyes went from you to her and Zayne. Perhaps they thought you were the third wheel. Or that you were the personality hire in their relationship, the not-enough one in the throuple. Or that you were some friend MC and Zayne felt bad for and let tag along everywhere.
They just had this... connection you didn't. Writers would call it kizuna, the bond between people, the connection. Or the red string theory. Meant for each other. Utterly, hopelessly intertwined and in love.
Fuck the red string theory. You knew Zayne loved you, you could hear it in the way his voice mellowed when he said your name, the way he looked and sounded when he was under you or over you, the way he always knew when something was on your mind.
But you were scared that maybe, just maybe, he loved her a little bit too.
It was a concept you were having to grapple with more and more recently.
Missed dates, his rare days off spent with just her, showing up to lunch and dinners late because she'd been injured or because she'd had something on her mind that apparently only he could understand, silly little things he made for her with his Evol because she had a penchant for them. Snowmen. Cats. He'd never made you any of that.
But then again, you'd never really asked him to.
No, you weren't jealous, you told yourself when you hung up the third phone call this week, his apologetic voice still echoing in your ear.
I'm sorry for missing lunch, MC had an impromptu checkup scheduled. I'll make it up to you next week.
You hung up the phone weary, throat dry, missing the times when he'd always find time for you, when he'd call you My Love as frequently as if it were your real name. You couldn't even remember the last time he'd called you that. The last time you two had kissed.
Or the last time you'd slept next to him in bed. Or even slept with him. Meals would be short, consulted in silence. You'd start tell him about your day and fall silent at his noncommittal hums. When you asked him to come to bed, he'd be sitting at his desk, reports scattered in front of him, the name on them familiar.
MC.
He'd text her through the night, kiss your forehead absentmindedly when you told him he should sleep, and then turn over so his screen was out of reach.
It felt like...
It felt like he was leaving.
He wasn't cheating on you, of that you were sure. Zayne was a man of his values, and steady in the decisions he took. He wouldn't have done that to you. No matter what he felt- he was detached and cold in his actions, but equally as moral. He wouldn't.
But he was pulling away. And you knew it. As plain as the promise ring in your drawer that you hadn't been wearing the last month. It was as obvious as that.
You didn't want to believe it, but there it was, plainly in front of you the next time you took a walk through the neighbourhood, to clear your mind. Just a walk, you'd told yourself, trying to get everything off your mind. You'd turned the corner, music blasting in your ears, and there they were. Zayne and MC in your favourite cafe, in the table you and Zayne always sat at, the one with the velvet seats near the window. He was smiling. Smiling. And her hand was on his, lightly, as if it meant nothing, as if such fleeting affectionate touches were normal between them. As you stood there, he made no move to push it away. He merely tilted his head, taking in her words, the cadence of her voice.
As he had done for you.
Before.
Now he barely listened to what you had to say. Or do. He didn't look at you the same way, he never talked. He was always busy. Just when it came to you, though. Not when MC called. He always went running to her.
So you packed your bags. You left before he came home.
It hurt. Your vision blurred with tears while you stuffed clothes into your bags, straightened your side of the bed. His side was cold, had been for a while now. You still paused to write a note, omitting the heart you'd always scribbled into the margins for him when you used to write him notes.
Back when he'd still been in love with you.
And you left.
You stayed at your friend's house for a week, trying to get over him. Then another passed, and another. He texted you, called, even showed up twice. You could tell he was hurting, and that hurt you too, just not as much as it had last month, when you had been the second choice.
You had always been the second choice. Always. Just not when it came to him. But that had changed, too. You thought Zayne and you would have lasted forever.
Guess you were wrong about that, too.
Imagine the moment he finally realised he'd lost you. When you were too far gone for him to beg back. The moment when you moved into a new apartment. The moment when you finally unfollowed him on Instagram.
The moment when he saw you smiling with another man, eyes crinkled and grin as wide as it had been when Zayne had been with you, laughing at the man's jokes.
Zayne watched as Caleb led you away, your fingers intertwined with his.
He'd had you first. But he'd lost you first, too.
And he'd just have to live with that for the rest of his life.
