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v. your dad took off when you were a baby
They say that a friend in need is a friend indeed, and even though you and Huang Renjun, the quiet boy you met just because of your mother, have only just met, you would go as far as saying that you confirmed this statement right in front of his eyes just at the sheer age of 5.
Your mum dropped you off at a stranger’s house– telling you it’s her friend Mrs Huang she met in high school and that she will watch you for the afternoon, trailing off to work right after. At times like these, you despised not having an older sibling to stay at home with, not having to spend your free afternoons in a stranger’s care. That’s where you meet the tall lady with an exhausted look sitting on top of her face, wrinkles decorating her eyes and the area around her mouth, looking so much older than your mother. You learn later that your mum is the same age as Mrs Huang, the information surprising you on a sunny afternoon once you’re older and back in your own backyard, since it seems that fate hasn’t been as nice on your new friend’s mother as it has been on yours.
You meet Huang Renjun under unusual circumstances. His mum leads you to their backyard with a sad smile on her face, nudging you closer to the boy sitting in the uncut grass, fingers angrily plucking the greenery around him and throwing the stems back onto the ground where they belong. The woman pays no more attention to the two of you, disappearing into the house and leaving you to yourselves– painfully awkward and shy, sitting right opposite of each other with pouts on your childish faces.
You watch the stranger with interest. You take notice of the long eyelashes brushing his cheeks and his pouty cheeks. You’d want to poke them if you’d known him for longer, but the desire dies somewhere deep inside you the moment your eyes meet and you are welcomed with a glare.
“Who are you?” he asks.
Your heart beats quicker under his gaze, insides squeezing in frightnance. You aren’t good with strangers. Socializing wasn’t exactly your best suit, even your mother calling you a late bloomer when it came to making friends and having fun. It’s not your fault, though– you’d spent your whole life pretty much tucked under her skirt, hiding from the world. It was comfortable there and your mum never pushed you to do anything you weren’t okay with, until the day came and now you didn’t know how to introduce yourself to a boy in his own backyard.
“I-I’m Y/L/N Y/N,” you mourn, biting on your lower lip so hard it almost bleeds with the force, hands curling into small fists as you try to calm yourself down. “Who are you?” you repay the question in a new wave of confidence.
His eyes scan you up and down, a questioning look on his face. You can see that he was prepared for your visit just as much as you were, surprise coating his features as he looks down into the grass again. “I’m Huang Renjun,” he says, “I live here.”
You hum in acceptance, your own words failing you as you wonder what you should talk to him about. Is this your mum’s poor attempt at trying to get you to make new friends? Did she force her poor friend to let her introduce her daughter to their son? Hesitance is all you feel when you look up at him again, opening your mouth to speak some more, when you close it again in the instance, bewildered at what you see.
The boy– Renjun, as you learned– is looking down, still, angrily plucking the grass out of the ground and throwing it in front of him, sniffling. There are tears falling down his big cheeks, ponds of sadness filling his dark eyes, and you are confused, because what happened? Is it you that made him cry?
“What happened?” you ask. You didn’t think beating around the bush was the correct option here. You didn’t know Renjun and he didn’t know you, and maybe that’s what made the little boy speak up so soon.
“My parents are getting a divorce,” he mourns.
A pit opens inside of your stomach, nervous hands clasping in your lap as you try to think of words that could console him, sentences good enough to make him feel better. It’s hard, though– you are only 5 years old and you are yet to learn what true pain is, what departure and betrayal feel like. You don’t know what to do, you don’t know what to say. You are just a clueless girl, desperately wanting to make the poor boy stop crying.
Why? You don’t even know. You barely know him, there’s no way you could really care about him.
You were always a smart girl– a logical one, be said. You swiftly stand up from the ground, striding back into the house in search of his mother. She’s an adult and your mum always made you feel better, so in your mind, this was the only solution. You search around their small kitchen, peeking into the dark living room, finding no one but empty rooms and cold air inside. You don’t dare to walk around their house. You’re still a stranger, after all.
A pack of crayons and papers are laying on the ground, the yellow colored one broken in two as you see a smudge of color on the top sheet, taking the items off the ground and walking back outside, taking a fierce seat next to Renjun on the ground.
You can’t explain why you do what you do– it’s like your intuition knew better than yourself. You offer the crayons to the boy, putting the white sheets of paper into his lap, watching his reaction. His dark eyes follow you in surprise, teeth sinking into his lower lip to stop himself from crying. Small fist comes in contact with his tear-stained cheeks, wiping them away quickly before he takes the red crayon– the biggest one, and leans over the sheet of paper, putting it on the grassy ground.
Grabby hand makes contact with the paper, full force swinging along the material, red crayon smearing over the flawless surface in violence. His hand moves quickly and the tears on his cheeks never stop falling, looking like a disaster, a small boy falling apart.
Renjun is grateful for you that afternoon. He may not even know you, yet, you are there with him, letting him feel things, meanwhile, his mother is laying in her bedroom upstairs, watching soap operas with a glass of wine on her bedside table. At least with you, he felt visible.
You see Renjun that afternoon, a beautiful disaster of feelings– they are mixing and overlapping, battling on his inside. Tears falling down in sadness and hands working with anger, fighting for dominance in the inside that was his small body.
This was the first time you saw Renjun crying. While he got sad many times after, no tears ever left his eyes, no tears ever painted his rosy cheeks in times like these.
This was also the first time you saw Renjun angry.
And ever since then, anger consumed him.
viii. we were afraid of your mother
Your feet burn with the speed you are running at, reaching Renjun’s house in 15 minutes since the moment the boy looked at the watch his grandma gave to him, proudly sitting on his wrist, frightened to realise that you two were outside way past your curfew. It usually didn’t matter that much, because your mum understood when you came home a little later than usual, even though she never forgot to scold you for it, and Renjun’s mum was always busy working. You two had your curfew at 5pm. You were just little kids, small 8 year olds going for ice cream after school or hanging out in the park where you found the best slides in the town. Renjun’s mum always got home at 6 and that’s why it didn’t matter if you got home a little later. Today, though, it was way past 6pm and Renjun’s dark eyes moved in fear as he grabbed you by the hand and ran with you to your neighbourhood.
He pays you a quick goodbye in front of his house, running inside with clammy hands and out of breath. You knew Huang Renjun as the fearless boy who always picked fights with the rude kids on the playground, the boy who had to try everything and never got frightened even from the biggest challenge.
The boy anxiously running inside of his house wasn’t the Huang Renjun you knew. It was new to see him like this. It was hard to understand for your little brain.
You two are hanging around in their backyard the next day after school. Something inside of you tells you that Renjun didn’t want to risk it today, too afraid to come home late again. Your mum scolded you the day before, telling you she’ll ground you if you came home late ever again. You didn’t want to test her patience– you liked being outside with your friend a little too much. So you understood his fear, in a way. Maybe he didn’t want to be grounded either.
Renjun’s backyard was like the second home to you and your mum liked how quickly the two of you grew close. There was no trouble in making you stay at the Huang’s when there was no one to watch you for the day.
There is a sheet of paper in front of you, crayons messily laying on the grassy ground. The backyard often looked unkept, just like the first time you saw it. You figured it was due to the lack of a man in the house. You never met Renjun’s dad– you befriended the boy the day he left for good and never came back. Sometimes, you were angry at the man you didn’t even know for making your friend so sad. Your 8 year old self didn’t understand things too well back then.
Your hand calmly moves along the white space, feeling like a skilled artist painting on a blank canvas. You try to draw a sunflower, because your friend has told you yellow is his favorite color.
When your art piece is done and you are ready to show it to your best friend, you shyly glance up and onto his piece of paper. You knew he kept every single drawing he ever made in the drawer of the wooden desk in his small room. He let you look through it just once, though. That day felt like a holiday. There were countless pretty drawings of the trees and houses with small backyards, lonely dogs and a pair of kids, sitting in the grass. Most of all, though, he used to draw the sun. You wonder if he drew it this time too, glancing onto his drawing.
His small hands move delicately, coloring the white in the prettiest colors. His hands are a little dirty from the ground and the constant grass picking he never really grew out of, the green under his nails catching your attention. The sleeve of his sweatshirt rises up a little, making you see the skin under the fabric. It is painted in color, hues of brown and green imprinting from under his skin, imitating a touch not so gentle holding him by his wrists.
Something inside of your mind tells you to ask about them. Even your young self understood that those are bruises that you see, bruises you shouldn’t be seeing. Most of all, bruises you don’t want to see– bruises that shouldn’t even exist.
You open your mouth to ask, yet, only air comes out when you hear the door to the back porch open, Renjun’s eyes sharply glancing that way. His fingers quickly tug down the sleeves of his sweater. You notice him chewing on the inside of his cheeks, hands clumsier than before when his mother approaches you, not sparing her a glance.
Renjun’s sun had a sad expression on its face, you notice.
. eight years old with a replica gun
“You’ll never catch me!” you scream, giggling as you run around the spacious backyard, the long grass tickling your feet. Your sneakers disappear in the greenery, a hat to shield you from the sun sitting proudly on your head. Your dad bought it for you when you went on a trip last summer, a souvenir to never forget the place you liked so much.
“I’m going to win!” he yells from the other side.
You swiftly move behind a tree in the far corner of the property, back close to the tall wooden fence, holding the replica gun in your hand. Your mother wouldn’t be too happy about the choice of your toys if she knew, but your mum wasn’t here. She never is these days. Work is too important for her, and you can’t even hang out with your dad in the afternoons, because he is busy too. You grew up with Renjun, in a way. It’s not like your parents don’t care or spend time with you, no, it’s just that opposed to the time you spend with your friend, it looks a little funny.
It’s like the two of you are raising each other. No parents in sight. They are always too busy to take care of their children.
Did your mum even know that Renjun’s mum sometimes comes home late in the evening, just a few minutes before the two of you go to sleep on the sofa in their living room? Or did she just not care?
You were convinced you could take care of yourself even at home, alone. You used to do it all the time anyways, but with a companion by your side.
Renjun found the toy guns in their attic. He didn’t know where they came from, but you were convinced they used to belong to his dad. You didn’t tell him that, though. He rarely speaks about him and you fear his reaction if you ever brought it up.
“I see you, loser!” you hear a scream from next to you, making you laugh out loud and sprint your way along the fence, your small legs carrying you swiftly along the property. You turn around on the way, pointing the gun at him like in the thriller movies you sometimes watch when you and Renjun get too tired of drawing in the backyard, laughing at the violence and imitating the acts in the soft cushions of the sofa.
Renjun is quick, though, and so instead of you getting the first shot, you are quickly put to the ground, his stronger hand pulling your arm away so he’s no longer in the way of your gun, making sure you can’t shoot and win this round of your little game. You laugh when your bodies reach the ground, rolling around the dirt, his arms securing your wrists above your head.
You watch the boy from up close, grinning into his face, noticing the way his eyes glint in carelessness. The mischief behind them only makes you more intrigued with your friend, when your eyes move from his head to the arms holding you down, the bruises on his skin in your full view.
You don’t miss out on your question today. You wish you would, though.
“Jun, did- did your mum do this?” you ask, nudging your head to the place where his skin blooms in millions of colors, painfully writing on the boy’s body.
His expression changes in the instance, the grin falls off his face as his eyes turn from joyful to cold, frown hiding his features as he holds you down with one hand, the other one holding the gun moving to the side of your head, sinking into your skin. The cold plastic meets your temple as he breathes heavily above you, a stern warning coating his voice.
“Don’t tell anyone!” he yelps out. “You can’t, okay?” he grits his teeth.
Your eyes move all around his face, panicked irises scanning his expression. Your lips pout in surprise, a hint of anger and frustration in your best friend reminding you so deeply of the boy you met when you were five, destroying the crayons with the force of his disturbance. You don’t see this side of Renjun often, but when you do, it scares you.
You don’t answer. You’re too shocked to do so.
He only lowers his voice, glaring at you hastily before a threat comes out of his mouth.
“I’ll kill you if you do.”
xiii. you still hate me for my dad stuck around
A lot of bad news have been shared in Huang’s backyard over the years. It all started with your first meeting, when Renjun’s parents were getting a divorce. It continued with telling each other about bad grades, about the cat that the lady from across the street owned dying, about how he lost the 2 dollars his mum gave him the day before were gone and how it started raining the other day when he was drawing outside and his piece got ruined.
This time, though, you’re sharing bad news sitting somewhere else– in your small room with the blinds open, the sun peeking through laughing at your saddened state, Renjun sitting hesitantly at the other end of your bed. You clasp your hands in your lap as your lower lip trembles and your head hurts from too much crying.
“What’s going on?” he asks. He’s not that young anymore. He knows that there’s something serious going on when you can’t seem to stop crying. Crying isn’t like you– it seems like you never had a reason good enough to have shed tears over it.
“They’re- they’re getting a divorce, Jun,” you mourn out, sobs echoing through the small room, “can you believe that? They lied to me! They lied!”
You don’t understand your parents’ decision. They were so happy together! They always brought you on trips, smiled at you at the breakfast table, told you you were doing a good job when you got a good grade in school. You always found them sitting together in front of the TV on Sunday evenings and the three of you always had lunch at the same table. It’s a shock for you, to hear them telling you the news at the same exact kitchen table, smiling at you sadly as you tried to process their words.
“They didn’t look like they wanted to get a divorce. You said your parents fought all the time before they divorced! It was good here, they- they didn’t even- it’s-” you sobbed, your breath hitching in your throat. Renjun anxiously chews on his bottom lip, fighting the urge to reach out and hold your hand in his.
“Calm down, Y/N, it’s gonna be okay,” he says.
And you should have believed him, right? He’s been through it. And he’s fine. Or so you think. But still, you don’t trust his words, because how could it ever be fine?
“It’s not.” you reply, hiccups raising up your throat.
You see him shaking his head through your glossy eyes, sighing. “I can’t believe they’re doing this to you. I’m so mad at them right now! I thought they were different!” his voice raises, hands swinging in the air from frustration.
You don’t find it in you to reply to him, only opting to pull your knees up to your chest, hugging your small figure, trying to protect yourself from the world. You feel betrayed for the first time, you feel hurt. You’ve never felt this amount of pain ever in your life and suddenly you realise just how much it must have burdened Renjun when he was so little.
“And then your dad’s gonna leave and you’ll never see him again. They always do that!” he huffs out, glaring at the ground.
Disapproval fills your guts, shooting a hurt look at the boy.
“That’s not true. My dad said he’ll visit. He said I’ll be at his place every other week and that he loves me and he’ll never leave.” you shake your head, angrily wiping away your tears with the sleeve of your sweater.
“They always say that,” he huffs, “and then they leave.”
“Don’t say that!” you argue.
“Well, it’s true! It happened to me, it happened to everyone! Your dad doesn’t love you anymore, and that’s why he’s leaving you and your mum.” he says, standing up from his place on the bed, shooting words at you like daggers, cutting you up alive.
“Huang Renjun, take that back!”
“I’m just telling you how it is.” he comments, voice high.
The door to your room opens, your mum standing in the doorway with a concerned look on her face. The two of you have known each other since you were 5 and she’s never heard you argue before. It was strange even for your mum to see Renjun so disturbed, speaking so loudly to his daughter. She looks at him with surprise, watching as the boy breathes heavily and pays you a glossy look, hands curled up in fists.
Renjun takes it as a signal to leave. He mumbles a low goodbye to your mum, escaping the house that once looked so lively with a heavy heart, stomping his feet on his way down the stairs.
There are some things your 13 year old self has yet to understand– the reason behind your best friend’s outburst, the reason for your parents’ divorce. You didn’t realise why the things Renjun’s said hurt you so deeply back then– why he spoke them with such spite. Perhaps he was hurt by the same words before. Maybe he didn’t know better.
You also hadn’t realised why your parents never argued before they filed for divorce. They barely even met each other when it wasn’t for the Sunday evenings. They had no time to fight, because they were too busy working all the time. They had no time to love each other. No time to fight.
Not all relationships end with a storm and thunder. Some end on a sunny afternoon, with a silent agreement, washing away like the sea on the shore.
xv. i remember my mother when she found a new man
Two years can do a lot to a person. It’s been exactly 24 months since you and Renjun had an argument in your room the last time, and it’s also been 24 long months since the two of you talked like you used to. The summer when your parents divorced was the summer you two parted ways– both going to another high school, finding other friends and meeting with other people. You still saw him on the streets from time to time, looking much different than he used to when you called him your best friend, the position so secure in your life you never dared to imagine it ever changing.
The Huang Renjun you see at the streets downtown isn’t the Huang Renjun that drew with you in the backyard of his house. It’s not the same boy that played catch with you and watched movies with you in the afternoon– simply said, he’s changed and it’s hard to recognise him now. It’s like he’s trying to be turbulent, going against every single rule known just so he could feel something, just so he could be heard, be seen. You have no idea what the future you two no longer share had in store for him, but you’re sure you’d like to know. You’d like to be the person he needs, even after all this time.
You see Renjun not so far away from your house. The neighbourhood you live in is still the same as it used to be, looking more and more abandoned as all your neighbours that have lived there all your life decided to move into better parts of the town. It’s like everyone’s doing amazing but you and your family– the family that’s so new to you you don’t even recognise them sometimes. Renjun, even though he changed, still somehow feels the same, though. His figure is sitting at the doorstep of one of the old houses that has not yet been sold, both looking abandoned in their state. His hair is dyed now and a little longer than it used to be when he was just 13 and you find yourself staring a little, even though you shouldn’t. His clothes are dark and his knuckles are bruised. You wonder what he’s doing in his free time that makes him look so damaged.
“Hi,” you find yourself waving at him when you pass the house, his eyes drifting off the ground onto your figure. Something inside of you jumps when he nods at you in greeting, mumbling a low ‘hi’ back, averting his eyes shortly after.
You know you shouldn’t be asking invasive questions. You learned your lesson at the age of 8, yet, you still can’t stop yourself from wanting to know too much as you open your mouth to speak and break the ice, somehow believing he’ll let you in again.
“What are you doing here?” you ask.
He shrugs, nonchalant expression sitting on his slowly maturing face. His eyes meet yours again, his soft voice contrasting with how sharp he looks on the inside, responding with no disturbance in his voice that somehow surprises you. You don’t know when you learnt to see him this way. You have no idea why you always expect him to push you away.
“I guess I didn’t want to go home yet,” he says.
You know your next step might be a reach. You know you might be going too far, you fully realise that you must be kidding yourself when you ask him your next question, but you do it anyway, because, well, it’s Renjun. You’ve known him your entire life. And even though you try to act like you don’t, you still think about him way too often, when your days get long and you long for the connection you had with the boy you grew up with.
“Do you maybe wanna come over? My mum’s making that vegetable soup for dinner tonight. I think it was your favorite,” you prompt to say, stepping from one foot to another, anxiously playing with your fingers as you await his response.
It’s not as bad as you expect it to be. It surprises you.
“Sure.”
You don’t know what happened that day. You have no idea why he chose to come with you, even though you two drifted away two years ago and fighting was one of the last ways you two spoke to each other. There’s a spark warming you up from the inside when he follows you home, just like he did all those years ago, something bright shining in the deep pit of your stomach hoping that maybe, you two can speak again, you two can talk like you used to.
You welcome him in your dining room, your mum welcoming him with a bright smile. You silently thank her in your mind for not bringing up your falling out in front of him and take a seat next to his figure sitting at the table, waiting for the soup to be served.
“I didn’t know we had a guest today,” your step-dad joins you three at the table, wearing his stupid white button-up, looking so out of place in your forgotten neighbourhood.
Your mum met him a year ago and even though you should be used to him by now, you despise him with every inch of your being. He tries to be the perfect step-dad, sometimes even forgetting you have your own father that takes care of you and meets you every other weekend. He walks around your house and acts like he owns this place. He greets you every morning with a smile on his face and you wish no more than to wipe it off. Your mother finds time for him like she never did for your own father and it makes you angry. You don’t like him. You never will.
“Yeah, it was kind of unexpected,” Renjun tightly smiles. You wonder if it’s a dig into your behaviour. Was it your fault you two drifted away? Did you make him distance himself?
It can’t be just your fault, right?
“And who are you, young gentleman?” your step-father asks. He looks at Renjun with expecting eyes. You wonder if he thinks you’re dating him, not knowing the history you and Renjun have together, a silent chuckle leaving your mouth as you’re once again reminded of the fact that the stranger living in your house knows nothing about you. And you will never even give him a chance to know.
“I’m Huang Renjun, mister,” he introduces himself politely, offering your step-dad a hand to shake, “me and Y/N are… friends,” he completes, hesitating a little before speaking the word, making your heart ache a little.
He hesitated. It’s no secret that you and Renjun are no longer present in each other’s lives, but it still made you a little frustrated to hear the quick silence before the blunt lie. He knows the two of you aren’t friends. He just didn’t want to embarrass you in front of the stranger he’s met for the first time today clearly living in your house now.
“That’s interesting,” he hums, “I’ve never seen you around.”
You bluntly roll your eyes at his argument, trying hard not to sigh in front of the whole table. Does he really have to be so nosy? It’s none of his business who even Renjun is anyway. It’s not his house to begin with. He doesn’t have to know the people you talk to, because he is no one to you. It’s unfair, how politely everyone treats him.
“I’ve been away for a little while.” Renjun says. You’re surprised with his ability to lie so easily. It’s like he’s been doing it his whole life, the words coming out of his mouth with ease.
It’s easier to pretend there were no walls between you and Renjun than to tell your new step-dad that the two of you argued because of the thing that was now the reason for his happy relationship.
Renjun and your step-dad make small talk. You don’t listen, their voices going over your head as the tones melt into each other and you can’t seem to pay attention to what they have on their minds. The sound of Renjun’s laughter wakes you up from your daydreaming, your heart swelling after seeing his lips tug into a wide smile after such a long time, finding the corners of your lips rising into a slight smile at the sight of him. You almost don’t believe he’s here. It’s like you made him up, dreamt him back into your life.
You end up in your room after. Renjun offers to help your mum with cleaning up. He’s always been a polite boy. Good thing to know the streets haven’t changed him.
A bitter memory fills your brain after the two of you sit on your bed. The last time he’s been here, it didn’t end well. You pray for it to end differently now. He’s at the tip of your fingertips, you’re so close to having him back in your life again. You have no idea what happened and why the universe chose to give you a chance tonight, but you want to make the best out of it. You can’t just let it go.
“Your dad is great,” he says, a gentle smile still playing with his features.
“Step-dad,” you correct him.
“Oh, right, sorry,” he nods, furrowing his brows, “he’s great, though. I’m glad your mum found someone like him. He looks reliable.”
You sigh at his words, raising your brows up in disbelief. Is that how your step-dad looks to people? Reliable? What more? Will he say that he’s a good guy now?
“He’s not great.” you mutter, averting your eyes from him.
“What do you mean?” he examines your face. Something inside of his eyes shifts, as if he’s searching for any sign in your features that would tell him more. You’re not sure if he’s as good at reading you as he used to be.
“It’s just like-” you throw your arms into the air, chewing on the inside of your cheek, “I don’t know. He walks around like he owns the place. He acts like my fucking dad, even though that place is occupyed already, he smiles at me every morning and acts like he wants to change my mind and wants me to accept him into my life…” you ramble the built-up frustration spilling over after such a long time.
“Unbelievable,” you hear Renjun snicker, “he smiles at you every morning and you despise him for it.”
Your eyes slowly move to his face, now feeling like he’s mocking you with his gaze and the look he has sitting on his face, nose scrunched up and lips pursed. You open your mouth in surprise, but close it back shortly after, sighing. “You don’t understand.”
“You’re just selfish.” he spits, eyeing you.
You feel like daggers are thrown deep into your heart, cutting it up from the inside, your hands sweaty and clammy as he glares at you longer. You’re being selfish? For not wanting a stranger living in your house? He must be out of his mind.
“That’s not it, it’s just- you- you don’t understand-”
“Right, how could I ever, right?” he chuckles, licking his lips as if to prepare them for the lava of words coming out shortly after. “You know what, you’re right. I could never understand, because my mum chose to date another fucking trainwrack again. A shithead that has more loans on his head than hair. A fucking psychopath that beats her when he’s drunk. I could never understand you and your picture perfect step-dad, I know.”
You gasp, your hands sweaty as you watch your best friend leaving your room. The feeling of deja vu sinks in, because this is exactly like you ended your friendship two years ago and it’s happening all over again right in front of your eyes, making you despise yourself for the words that made him leave again. Maybe it’s inevitable for the two of you, to end up like this.
He storms out and you find it hard to move for a while. Something inside of your mind doesn’t register as quick as you would like it to when you hear the words coming out of your friend’s mouth with spite, and suddenly, you understand just how privileged you must have been when your mother found herself a new man. Renjun might be just a few months older than you, but the truth is, life taught him much more than it’ll ever teach you. He must be right when he tells you you are selfish and you finally understand– because that’s just how it is. You are not letting your mum be happy with someone new just because you haven’t gotten used to them coming into your life. And that is selfish.
You run out of your room and stride down the stairs, bursting the front door open.
“Renjun! Renjun!” you yell, looking around. His small figure is nowhere to be seen in the dark, your heart thumping when you notice that he’s disappeared. Maybe you were too slow, maybe he just made sure you won’t find him if you go after him. Or maybe, he just learnt how to run fast. You guess you’ll never find out.
“Renjun, come back! You were right!” your eyes skim the place, shaky breaths cutting your lungs. Desperation is what you feel at your worst, pain clutching your insides with the broken realisations of what you just did– you made him leave again.
“Please come back?” you yell, running around the neighbourhood.
You don’t find him. You think he must have gone home.
And so you do the same, slowly dragging your feet up the stairs, your trembling body pushing past your worried mother, because there’s nothing left to be done now. You don’t let her ask questions. You don’t feel like talking about your heartbreak now.
You lay in your bed and turn around, your body too restless to find peace, not even the sleep taking you out of your misery for a few hours as your thoughts swim with the picture of the boy with stars in your eyes you must have lost forever on this cruel night.
Huang Renjun’s always been full of anger. He let the smoke rise inside of him, he let the frustration build up, striking sparks all around him and watching the world burn with his impact. He let anger consume him. He doesn’t know better.
No wonder he can’t stand you. You can’t stand you too.
xvii. your godmother repaired the anger in me
Years pass quickly. You haven’t met your best friend for two years now and even though it hurts, you threw away the idea of recolliding your relationship long, long ago. You don’t even meet him on the streets anymore. It’s like he’s disappeared, like his body was avoiding you on purpose and not just because your schedules were different. You lived in the same neighbourhood. There was no way you couldn’t have met him at least once or twice over the two years if he wasn’t purposefully trying to avoid you.
Years pass and relationships end, friendships get distant, acquaintances drift away. You are growing up so quickly and it seems like you are slowly losing everything and everyone– from your friends to family to even the classmates that stopped talking to you over time, because none of them truly got you and your feelings.
Years pass and friendships get distant, yet, so it seems, the friendship your mother and Renjun’s mother have is never ending with the way the woman is sitting at your back porch with a wine glass in her hand, gazing over the well-kept grass with your mother on her right side. Your step-dad bought the pretty ratan furniture your mum fawned over in the store and even though it made your mother happy, you despised him for it, because it only meant he was slowly occupying your house with his stuff, making it its own. This place can never be his home. Not when it’s yours at the same time.
You lazily step outside, sitting at the floor of the small terrace, listening to your mother speak. She talks to Mrs Huang with joy, a sense of familiarity only old friends can replicate, and you suddenly miss the way you would sit in the backyard with her son, because the truth is, no one ever made you feel so at home ever since.
The words coming out of their mouths come over your head. You hear, but you don’t listen. You have no interest in what they like to fawn over and discuss with a bottle of wine placed on the small rattan table, you just like the feeling of being somewhere with someone. The silence of your own room was starting to scream at you over time. You wish there was someone else to scream over the silence for you. Your throat is starting to get tired.
Your mum excuses herself from your ‘ladies’ night’ and trails into the toilet. The atmosphere grows thick with only Renjun’s mum present. The weight of the knowledge that you have to talk to her now if you don’t want it to become even more awkward sitting hardly on your shoulders. You feel like she’s scanning your behaviour, watching you with curiosity. It feels like you’re naked under her gaze. You’re fairly certain both of your mums know the friendship their children had ended long time ago.
Do they talk about it sometimes? Do they worry, pick it apart and throw the fault at the other child? Did the conversations grow empty when there’s no one to mention at the dinner table?
“Do you want some?” Mrs Huang offers you her glass of red wine, making you turn around in your place on the ground, so you’re now facing her. A polite smile is sent her way as you shake of your head in disapproval.
“No, thank you.”
The chirping of the birds is heard as the sun slowly starts setting over the horizon, orange hues hitting her face as she sighs, locking her honest eyes with yours. You see Renjun in them, in the depth and fondness they stare at you with, making you realise just how similar the two of them look. You’re glad he has so much from his mother. You bet he’d hate it if he had to listen to people telling him how he looks like his dad all the time, words scratching him and burning with spite.
“You know, you and Renjun are quite similar, in a way,” his mother says, nodding her head.
Shock grows in you upon her words. You didn’t expect her to talk about her son tonight. At least not with you present and listening. Sometimes you thought there was a silent promise kept within your families– no one talks to you about Renjun and no one talks to Renjun about you. Your eyebrows shoot up at her in question, nervously licking your lips before you speak up.
“Why is that?”
“You’re both just… full of anger.” she says, looking into the distance.
Her words dwell on you. How can she speak such words about you when she has no knowledge of who you are? You yourself don’t even know who you truly are, you don’t even know what you feel and what the emotions swirling around in your insides are, what do the thoughts running around your brain mean. You open your mouth to reply something smart back, something that would silence the woman, but she cuts you off with another point that makes you sit in silence, listening to her with interest instead.
“I can’t tell this to Renjun, because he won’t listen. He doesn’t care anymore,” she starts, swallowing he apparent lump forming in her throat, “and that’s okay. He will learn along the way, when things get better.” she says, “I tried to explain some things to him, but now I know that I don’t have to keep trying on a dead end. I can still try to speak to you, though.”
Ignorance seems to be Huang Renjun’s solution to things. He ignores his feelings and the feelings of others, because he’s not prepared to think about what they mean. He had to grow up quickly, yet, there’s still immaturity coating his brain.
“You have to let this anger go,” his mother says. You almost want to silence her and tell her you’re not angry, that her son is the only one dealing with these issues, when the realisation dwells on you with her following words, “you have to let go of the grudges you have against your step-dad. You can’t keep hating Jinyoung, sweetheart. He did nothing wrong.”
“Why do they keep telling me that my dad did something wrong?” you snap, glaring at her. There’s a fire in your stomach as you speak, hands clutched in your lap.
She sighs, shaking her head. “There’s always two sides to the coin. I know damn well it’s not your mum that’s turning you against your dad. And the people who are, didn’t know him. You know how the divorce went. You were there. You know there’s no bad guy.”
“Exactly,” you nod, glad someone finally understands. You like the way she speaks to you like an adult. You like how she’s not telling you the well-known phrases of ‘you’re too young to know’ and ‘you wouldn’t understand how things go’ you had to get used to hearing over the past few years. She’s talking to you like you understand and like your feelings are valid– something you have been dreading for your whole life. You just wanted to be finally taken seriously.
“So why should Jinyoung be the bad guy?” she quirks up a brow, questioning you.
You play with your fingers in your lap, suddenly feeling nervous. “He doesn’t belong here. He can’t keep acting like my dad when he’s not.”
She takes a moment to think and collect her thoughts, a sip of the wine hitting her tongue, examining the whole backyard. When she speaks up again, her words are calm and collected, smart, even, the words she’s saying making way more sense in your heart than anything anyone’s ever told you before.
“You don’t have to feel like he belongs. You don’t have to feel like he is your dad, because, well, as you said, he is not. No one’s asking you to replace your dad with him. I just wish you were a little more understanding of your mother. She found someone she loves and someone she trusts. She found happiness and it makes her unhappy that you don’t feel good with him in your house,” she mumbles, “she doesn’t want anything from you, she just wants acceptance.”
“Accept that he’s here. Accept that he’s in your life, that he’s in your mother’s life, and stop burning yourself up about it. Sometimes, in life, you have to learn how to let certain things so. Otherwise, they’ll eat you up alive.”
With those words, your mum comes back with a warm smile on her face. You see the fondness in her eyes when she stares at her favorite rattan chairs and the red wine she bought with Jinyoung in the pretty winery yesterday, you see the blush on her cheeks when Mrs Huang asks about the necklace he gave her on their second anniversary. In that moment, something inside of you clicks. It’s when you gaze upon the well-kept backyard, funnily enough, that you realise Renjun’s never had this much luck. You realise how selfish you had been acting, how much grudge and anger you’ve been keeping inside of yourself just because you couldn’t accept the simple fact that life doesn’t work just like you’d want it to.
And with that, you decide to let go. You decide to accept it. Because this is your life and you can’t change it, you can’t stop the time. You can’t turn it back and redo it.
Life just goes on, and you have to go too.
xviii. see her in the night, there in the corner of my eye
“She overdosed on pills.”
You hear the sentence replaying over and over in your head, every single day ever since you’ve first heard it. You hear your mother telling you one morning while you were eating your breakfast, getting ready for school. The food didn’t taste like anything after and you still went to school even though your mother told you you can stay at home. You wanted to occupy your mind, even though you don’t remember anything from what happened that day. You operated pretty much on autopilot.
You hear the sentence in your head when you go to sleep that evening, when you brush your teeth the next day, when you walk to the grocery store to get some milk alone, since your mother forgot to do the shopping after she heard the news.You hear the sentence in your head when you wake up the day of the funeral, when you put on your dark formal clothes and when you drive with your mother to the cemetery. You hear the sentence screaming at you in your head when you stand at the corner of the small crowd, you hear it when your mother takes the flowers she’s bought for her and puts them on her grave.
Only once you don’t hear the sentence, and that is when your eyes meet with the boy standing above the hole dig into the ground, gazing into the dirt with no clear emotion meeting his face.
Guilt washes over you.
You haven’t talked to him in three years, three long years, but still, the weight of your realisation sits at your shoulders when you think of the fact that it was his own mother and he had to take that in all alone.
Huang Renjun has no one. Not even his own mother now.
You could have gone to him. You could have tried to make him feel better, if that’s even possible. You could have tried to ring the bell on his door and ask for him, be the shoulder he could cry on. But you didn’t. You did nothing from the above, opting to let the poor boy alone to suffer, to hold the weight of his mother passing on his shoulders just a few months after he turned 18. He was an adult now. A clueless adult without anyone to lean on.
The ceremony passes around your head. You stand there and let the tears fall from time to time, you mourn the woman that cured your anger a year ago in your backyard, you mourn the woman that let you play with her son until the sun went down when you were just nine. You knew her your whole life. You knew she wasn’t a perfect mother to your friend. But nonetheless, she was his mother.
You want to crawl out of your skin, you want to scream and yell and tear something apart, and it’s all your fault, because you hate yourself– you could have been there for him. You had to be there for him. And you weren’t.
You try to run after him when the service is over. You try to follow him after everyone leaves, you try to take him by his hand and tell him you are there for him, even after all this time. He was your childhood friend and the reality slaps you a little too hard when you realise that he had just lost his childhood.
Your heartbroken eyes search for him, blurred with tears, yet, you don’t find him. It’s like he’s disappeared the same moment his mother did. Huang Renjun vanished into the thin air.
Your mum holds your hand on the way back home. She cries on the kitchen table until late at night, and you figure that even though you couldn’t be there for Renjun, you can always stay there for her. She crushes your palm in hers, she hugs you so tight you feel like you’ll suffocate, she holds onto you for dear life. There’s pain in your bones, digging deep into your stomach.
Your step-dad helps you put her to sleep. He walks you to your room with a sad smile on his face, dark circles sitting under his eyes. You’re glad there’s someone for you here to rely on.
You fall asleep that night feeling heavy. Just as you’re about to drift off, there’s something jolting you awake as you open your eyes and see a figure standing at the foot of your bed. Quiet whisper of cold hits your feet sticking out of the blanket, the silver brimming your eyes with sublte hue you graze over in the corner of your room. You don’t feel scared to see her, you don’t feel frightened to see the woman that’s long under the ground. You figured you’d be at least a little angry at her for leaving her son and her best friend here alone, but anger’s not what she taught you.
And so you let her go. Because that’s what she would have wanted.
You find out Renjun dropped out of high school and left the town a few days after. You haven’t heard of him since the funeral and you guess you won’t ever see him again. The hard fact that no one’s there with him to help feels bitter on your tongue. He leaves his step-father alone in the empty house. No bond ties the two together, hatred stares no longer being kept in the other’s lifes.
You guess neither of them could hold the fault of what she did.
Even they couldn’t save her.
xix. heard you glassed a boy back in the borders
If there was one thing you learned in your whole life, it was the fact that you really, truly, can’t expect anything. You can’t predict how your life is going to turn out, you can’t prepare yourself for the impact. There’s nothing you can do to make life hurt less, because it doesn’t happen as you want it. Life is an endless cycle of things and actions and you can’t stop any of them, you can’t make any of them any different, and perhaps, that’s the hardest part of life itself. You can’t prepare for what’s about to come.
Renjun couldn’t prepare himself for the divorce of his parents in his early childhood. He was just five and needed a father. His heart has been broken so early on, maybe he didn’t even know how it felt to be whole again.
You couldn’t prepare yourself for your parent’s divorce either. It was, perhaps, the most unexpected thing to happen to you. One day, it was all okay and the other one, it was not. It took you long enough to accept that you didn’t lose any of your parents just because things changed and you don’t live together as a family anymore.
Renjun couldn’t prepare himself for the asshole of a step-father that came into his life. No one taught him how to battle on his own. He had to learn it all by himself. He had to learn how to cope, he had to learn how to survive with a mother that sometimes lacked the ability to raise him and a stranger in the house that only made his life feel more like a living hell.
Renjun couldn’t prepare himself for his mother’s suicide. Or for what life had in store for him later. You don’t expect things like this to happen. You can’t.
Renjun had to learn how to cope with the sadness in his heart somehow. There was no one there for him to stand by his side and help him secure the broken pieces of his heart into a gauze, waiting for them to mend together. There was no one there left for him at his side, watching over him and encouraging him to do right steps and let go of the bad ones. And so he learnt how to cope with everything in his own way– and that way was anger.
He let anger eat him all up from the inside until he exploded, until he did things he never wanted to do, until he broke promises and friendships and left the town just because he tried running away from everything that was weighing him down.
You heard a lot of him from your mother. It was like she kept a silent promise to her gone best friend to somehow watch over the poor boy. She told you that he left the town and went to live with his uncle. It was too far for you to visit, and you weren’t even sure if you were wanted for a visit in the first place. And so you never tried to reach him again. Every step you could take started to feel unsafe from the first time you two fought in the quiet of your room. Maybe if you two knew better how to cope, you could have left things on a better note. You could have tried again, you could have fixed what was broken and work on your friendship together. Again, though, life is never how you expect it.
Your mother told you that he started working in the local supermarket. You never imagined Renjun to be a cashier, but you guess life has unpredictable plans for all of us. You’re just glad he is trying to put himself back onto his feet.
His stepfather, Jongin, left the town a few weeks after him. There was no reason for him to stay in an empty house with an empty promise sitting on his right finger. He dropped off the keys to the Huang’s house at your doorstep one day and you never heard of him since. You didn’t dare to visit the poor family’s home. It’s like the place was prohibited for you to see.
Your mum also told you the unexpected news one day at breakfast. Sometimes, it bugged you that you know so much about a boy you don’t talk to anymore. Sometimes, it bugged you that you had to get this information from your own mother. You guess you just hated the fact that you still wanted to hear how he is doing, even after all those years.
“He beat up some guys at The Borders,” she said one day, catching you off guard. Some days, she didn’t even have to say his name. You knew who she was talking about anyways. You didn’t know a lot about the town he went to live in, but you knew enough to realise The Borders is a pub at the corner of the city, dark and shady. Nothing good ever went on in The Borders– you heard enough from the passerby that stopped in your local bars on their way home from vacations.
Shaky hands place the slice of bread with jam on the kitchen table, your own body feeling like you’re operating on autopilot once again. It happens often in your life– an ever so noisy reminder that most of the time, you’re not living. You’re just surviving. It’s not panic that you feel in your heart. It’s not even a surprise, per say. Deep in your heart, you knew that this was always coming. There was no way the anger inside the boy could go somewhere safe, there was no way the violence could have ended somewhere else. It was only a matter of time, the clock ticking, laughing at you in spite as it watched you try to take the information in, when you decide to inquire from your mother more.
“Do you know why?” you ask.
A shake of head accompanies the sigh that leaves her lips. “His uncle said he didn’t want to talk to him about anything. He just found him with a bruised face and blood on his hands. If it wasn’t for the rumours, he wouldn’t have known anything at all.”
You nod in understatement. Renjun was always secretive, to an extent. Mystery clouded his feelings and his actions, his random outbursts sometimes so strange to your brain. You couldn’t decode him even if you tried hard to.
“He said some guys are after him. The guy he beat up has a lot of brothers that want to take revenge. I don’t think this will end well, Y/N-ie.”
Your mother has lived through enough crises to know. She is always right, and that fact scares you, because only god knows what will happen to your ex-friend now, with a bunch of older men running after him like wolves, just like in the movies you two watched together on your lonely childhood afternoons. You never expected it to get to this point when you were so young and clueless.
“I don’t want him to get hurt,” you whisper.
But the truth is, Renjun has been hurt worse before. No scratches, no bruises and broken bones could ever compare to the pain he’s been through. He shouldn’t have to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders. He shouldn’t have to run away from one place to another over a past that keeps haunting him in his darkest nightmares. But that’s just how he lives his life now.
. your eyes, the door to hell and all within
The beaten-up boy arrives in his hometown a few days later. You don’t hear this information from your mother this time, because it’s a hot topic in your little blue neighbourhood, rumors spreading like the morning news. The poor orphan slungs his body through the empty streets with a single black backpack thrown over his shoulder and a cap sitting on his head– at least that’s what your neighbours told you, the image tortuting your mind for a whole week.
You don’t see him leave the house. It’s like he’s isolating himself from the world. Is he trying to hide? Is he too ashamed of walking down the streets of the small town, where everyone knows each other’s secrets way too dearly? He doesn’t care, you think– because that’s how you still see Renjun. The rebellious boy that stopped talking to you when you were thirteen, the kid that raised himself on the streets, running around and stealing candy from the local convenience store.
Insomnia is your most frequent visitor these days. The presence of Huang Renjun just a few houses away from you feels like friction of tectonic plates, only begging for the volcano that were your emotions to erupt. Guilt slides all over your insides, making you sick to your stomach. Some days, you despise your own breath, because you didn’t have to do anything for it, yet, Renjun’s here all by himself, struggling. Desperation and wrath chain you up from the insides and suddenly, you don’t want to keep crawling inside of your own skin anymore.
Apology seems like the only thing that could help you feel better about yourself. Maybe even the honest words won’t make you let go of the grudge you hold against yourself, but you guess it doesn’t hurt to try. Temptation hugs your veins all day long, a temptation to visit your friend and see how he is. You feel like if you don’t know anything about him, you’ll explode, you’ll suffocate. You got too used to knowing just how he’s doing from your mum, the lack of information making you feel like you’re suffocating out of worry. Something ties you to him like black magic and you can’t break the bond you two had when you were young even if you tried.
A knock on the door, a ring of the bell. They both go ignored as you stand at the doorstep of Huang’s house. The grass is still as unkept as you always remembered it, perhaps even growing taller and more bushy than ever before, since the house had been left alone for a few months now. The windows are closed and there’s darkness shining deep from the inside, begging you to come in with hushed whispers.
You reason to your last hope– your last, desperate tool of silent plea of forgiveness. You doubt it’s your smartest idea, but it’s the only one you have, and so you take out the key Jongin left at your house the day of his departure and open the door for yourself, silently unlocking like a criminal on their way to steal. A realisation of the fact that you just basically broke into a stranger’s home hits you once you cross the doorstep, but you don’t find it in you to turn on your heel and leave. Instead, you continue, taking big, careful steps, looking around the dark rooms.
The air is thick. You can tell the windows have been closed for a long time. The whole house looks like it was struck by lightning or swept by a tornado. Things are laying around the floors and empty bottles decorate the corners of the entrance hall. A smell of smoke is ever still present, reminding you of the man that lived here for a while when Mrs Huang found herself a new boyfriend, making you scrunch up your nose in pure disgust.
“Renjun?” you dare to call out, hoping to hear his soft voice calling at you back from one of the rooms. It feels like a dangerous game of hide and seek when you pace around the house and find the first floor empty. Your legs take you upstairs, skipping the bathroom and instinctively entering his mother’s bedroom, the door squeaking at the slow motion of your hand opening it with cautience.
Your eyes land on a small figure sitting by the foot of the bed, crawled up into itself, soft sobs shaking with the person’s whole body. The upsetting reality is that you could recognise the body at any time, anywhere. It’s been years since you last hugged him, but you’re fairly certain you can still remember how he felt in your arms, his figure latched to you, holding you firmly against his chest. Oh how you want to feel that way again, secure and hidden from the world, silently waiting for the lost planet to start turning again so you could pass some time before you two can be okay again.
It takes you three long steps to get to him, your sneakers rubbing against the rug making you feel guilty for not taking your shoes off at the doorstep like you always used to when you visited him when you were young. You’re not sure if he hears you, if he feels your presence the way you felt his in the darkness of the soulless house standing like a lonely shell no longer providing home to anyone, when you reach out for his shoulder and gently rub it with comfort.
“Renjun…” you mumble, not knowing what to say.
He acts on instinct. Defense is all he’s ever known, anxiety clutching his insides as he quickly snaps back into reality and clutches your wrists in his hands, pinning you to the ground. His hands are above your head, heavy breathing being the only thing heard in the small room. The smell of alcohol hits your nose when his face gets close to you, tears threatening to fall to your face from his eyes and smear your face in saltiness.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” he asks. Angry eyes point to you, helpless emotions swirling in the orbs as he clenches his jaw. The air is even thicker now, when he stares you down and questions you with a single look, the force on your wrists suffocating you from the inside. This is not how you know Huang Renjun.
Each time you meet him, he’s a different person. He keeps changing and turning his face quicker than the pages in the books you read, leaving you shocked every single time. You should have learnt to not have any expectations. Because really, you no longer know Huang Renjun. You no longer belong to his life.
So, in reality, he was right, he was completely allowed to ask you the question and you should have done the same before entering the dark house– what the fuck were you doing there?
“I just wanted to check up on you,” you silently explain. Your voice breaks and you hate yourself for sounding so fragile, so desperate, when his face inches closer to you, examining you like a wild animal.
“Check up on me?” he chuckles. He looks manic. Broken. A few moments before or after a terrible crisis, a hopeless mental breakdown. You wish you could have stopped it from happening when you arrived.
You’re too scared to move, anxiety burning up all your insides as you aimlessly lay under his touch, your chest heaving with what feels like panic attack quickly jogging into your heart. You feel your hands sweating and your body growing weak. You’re scared.
Now is when you finally learned that you can’t expect anything, now is when you truly realise that you can’t predict life.
You couldn’t have predicted Huang Renjun pinning you to the ground with force when you’re nineteen, tears staining his cheeks and spite burning in his tone.
“Where were you when my mother died, huh?” he snickers in disbelief. He shakes his head, finding you pathetic, maybe even laughable under him. Pain settles into your chest when you see the emotionless eyes scanning your face, the way his arms start to sweat on your wrists makes your heart physically hurt more than the force of his hold ever could. This is not the Huang Renjun you know. This is simply not Huang Renjun.
It’s not him. It’s what was left from him after life took everything from him– an empty shell with nothing left, but anger.
“I- I-” you stutter, chewing on your bottom lip.
“Stealing my inheritance, or am I wrong?” he spits out his words at your face. Surprise rings in your ears, shaky breaths leaving your mouth.
“W-what?”
“There’s nothing here! Nothing, do you hear me?” he exclaims, momentarily pushing you harder to the ground with his knees on either side of your body, “You left me nothing! You threw away all of her clothes, took all her saved-up money, sold all her jewelry! There’s nothing, do you hear me?! Nothing.” he cries out, biting down on his lower lip to suppress sobs that shake his body again. You’re not sure if he believes the words coming out of his own mouth. There was no way you could have stolen his mother’s things.
“That wasn’t me, I swear,” you mutter, hurriedly shaking your head.
“Like I could trust you, after all these years,” he huffs, staring at you with a scowl on your face.
“Jongin left the key at our doorstep one day. I- I promise it wasn’t me. We both know he was a fucking dick, Renjun, you have to trust me. It wasn’t me or my mother,” you desperately repeat, explaining. You want him to believe you, you need him to believe you. Trust is a thing you two no longer feel for the other, but in this moment, you tremble like you’ll surely crawl out of your own skin if he doesn’t spare you just a bit of his understatement, a tiny part of belief.
“Why did you even come?” he asks, suddenly sounding tired.
“I-”
“Why did you fucking bother? After all these years. There’s no use. Did you just come so you could feel better about yourself? Do you feel fucking guilty, Y/N?” he shoots daggers into your heart, paining you in all the right places, hitting a little too close to the truth. You and Renjun haven’t been friends for a long time now, but it seems like he still knows you like the back of his hand. Perhaps you were the only one that didn’t change at all.
“Let go of me.” you silently beg, chest heaving.
“Do you feel guilty? Tell me, Y/N! Tell me!”
“Let go!” you yelp out. It seems like your voice managed to snap him out of his daze, his arms finally weakly leaving your wrists, the force on your hands loosening as he climbs off your body. He watches you hurriedly standing up from the ground, whole body shaking in what he only can identify as fear when you walk to the door, knees weak and wobbly. You’re nearing your escape.
“It’s too late, Y/N!” he yells after you when your legs cross the doorway, your hand shutting the door after you with force.
A shriek of the glass follows your exit as Renjun throws an empty bottle against the closed door, watching the deep green splashing all accross the wooden floor of his mother’s bedroom. Hopeless shatters of fragile glass decorate the doorstep, ensuring no one dares to cross the boundary of prickly little daggers sitting all around him, preparing them for danger. He feels like an animal kept in its cage, a lion silently scared of people that dare to go too near.
You wish you would have known not to visit him sooner.
You examine your bruised wrists at the foot of your own bed, crawled up into yourself, just the way you found him, clutching your hands to your chest as the tears finally spill down your cheeks and you let yourself panic, because this is something even your darkest nightmares couldn’t prepare you for.
Huang Renjun is 19 now and it feels like this time, all of his anger finally consumed him.
. we were like brothers
Rocks hitting your window is not how you imagined your night ending on one peaceful sunday. It’s been almost three weeks since you last saw Renjun and the colors blooming from under your wrists are almost gone, their vibrance long forgotten despite the fact that the chaos and hurt will never not be engraved deep into your soul even after the bruises are gone.
You pay your backyard a hesitant stare, finding the once disturbed boy standing there, playing nervously with his fingers as he scans the empty property dressed in black, the single lamppost standing proudly right in front of your window being the only thing illuminating his face with the moonless sky above his head.
Something inside of you wants closure, at least. Something inside of you wants to go out and ask him what he wants, try to get to him calmly, for once, and get to the bottom of the problem. Even the last bit of desperation in your bones hasn’t died yet when you see him step from one foot to the other in nerves, making you slowly and hesitantly leave the house, stepping through the short grass steamed with the settling dew of the night, the droplets wetting your socked feet you managed to slip into your step-father’s slippers sitting by the front door in hurry. You reach him in no time, yet it feels like eternity.
You’re not as daring as you were three weeks ago. A wall higher than the both of you stands firmly between your bodies, guarding you, lost friends, from what the other one’s about to do. You wish for some clarity, for the cloud of difference and confusion to leave the two of you, you beg the stars for some light, when it seems like your silent plea has been heard by someone there above and Renjun takes the first step.
The tears hitting his cheeks welcome you first. He doesn’t say anything for a long time, just looks at you in painful silence, lips pressed tight to not make any sound. You can’t see no violence. There’s no rage behind his glossy orbs and somehow, you think this is progress. You think this is him opening up, letting you in, or at least– accepting the fact that you tried, even if it was too late, and trying to let you know that it was okay and that you don’t have to beat yourself up for it anymore.
One hesitant step his way is taken before you stop and do what you didn’t when you first approached him in his house. “Can I hug you?” you ask for permission.
He nods. Quiet sniffles escape to the open air when your body finally reaches his, your arms enclosing warmly around his body. It feels all too familiar, the presence of him around you, the way he fits into your arms just right. Comfort is not the exact word you’d give to this emotion, but you think it comes close to it as you rub patterns into his back and let him crush you with his arms, holding you tighter than ever before.
You don’t try to speak. You know your words will fail you and you also know they will never be enough. ‘It’s gonna be okay.’– but is it? ‘I’m here.’– but for how long? ‘I’m sorry.’– that doesn’t make it all better. There are no words, no verbs left in the whole dictionary that could reassure the broken boy in your arms and you know that. You hate that, because you’d really like to try. It may be too late, but you are somehow reassured that you can always try again next time.
After he’s calmed down a bit and you feel the discreet sign that now it’s time to pull away from him, you two take a seat in the moist grass, plucking the stems with your restless fingers, avoiding each other’s gaze as if it made the whole situation better to take in.
“Why did you beat up the guys in The Borders?” you opt to ask. You think it’s safer to speak now. You feel like there’s no rage left in the short one’s body– it seems like he burned alive, he used it all up.
He sniffles for the last time, twirling the stem of grass in his hand. You take a look at him from under your eyelashes and find him staring at the dark sky when he lets out the breath he’s been holding and speaks up again, voice groggy. “They talked shit about my mother.”
You nod in understatement, even though he doesn’t see you. You almost think it’s good he had a good reason for his actions, but you quickly stop yourself to fix your point of view. Fights are never the answer.
You think of his mother for a while. You remember her in a lot of ways– with a towel on her wet hair when she came down the stairs one evening and found you watching the news on the TV. You remember her with a bottle of beer in her hand when you passed by their house when you were fifteen, her short figure standing at the front porch. You remember her with dark circles under her eyes the day after she learnt that her son stole something from the convenience store again, shopping in the supermarket 5 minutes away from your house. An image of her staring aimlessly out of the window invites itself into your mind, reminding you of the many times when you saw her unhappy and didn’t know why.
You think of his mother and remember the way he feared her sometimes when he was a child. You guess there’s a hint of truth behind the cruel words you heard your therapist tell you once– the abused will turn into abusers if there’s no time for them to heal.
But most of all, you remember his mother as the woman that spoke to you on your back porch and finally made you believe that the grudge you’ve been holding is not what you should focus your energy on. You remember her as the woman that made you realise there was no use crying about things you couldn’t change. You remember the woman that taught you how to let go of all the anger you felt, the woman that, perhaps, helped you heal the most.
“I really loved her, you know?” he says, “Even though she wasn’t the best mother sometimes. She said some things she didn’t have to and dated a guy that only made it worse, but after all, I know she loved me. And I really, really loved her too.”
You watch his side profile, noticing the curve of his nose, his parted lips and the dark eyes that once so deeply invited you in. He looks like a painting, a bittersweet painging you’d see in the gallery and wonder the story behind it.
“I used to hate her when I was little. At least that’s what I thought,” he says, “she… remember when I made you swear you’ll never tell anyone about my bruises?” he asks, but doesn’t wait for your reply. “She stopped shortly after. She went into therapy and things got better, for a while. It hurt, the memories and all, but I… I forgave her. She wasn’t in her best headspace after the divorce.”
You shakily inhale, watching his composure change. You don’t ask questions, you only listen. It feels like after all the years you’ve known Renjun, now is when you finally really get to know him– when he really opens up to you and tells you just what’s been weighing him down all the time when you failed to be there for him to listen.
“It broke my heart to see that motherfucker ruin everything she’s been building up for so many years.” he mumbles.
You see him spiraling into himself, his eyes averting the sky and focusing on the fingers in his lap. You can’t let him dwell too hard in his thoughts. Sometimes, your own thoughts don’t help you just as much as you would like them to.
“What did you do when you left the town?” you ask.
“I stayed at my uncle’s,” he hums, “found a job. Tried to get my shit back together. It felt too suffocating to stay here. I had no one,” he shrugs. “And I… tried to look for my father.”
All your attention turns to him, eyes big, watching over the boy. You didn’t expect him to do such a thing, not after all the hatred he’s kept for the man his whole life.
“How did it go?” you ask.
“Bad,” he chuckles, “I should have expected it, really. It was stupid of me to try. He threw me out immediately and didn’t even want to talk to me. When I told him my mother died, he didn’t even bat an eye. I went for some drinks that day and it didn’t end well. Some guys brought up my mother and I just… I just snapped, I guess.” he explains, hands noticeably more shaky in his lap, “I had to leave the town because they were after me. I went from one trouble to another.”
An incredibly big urge to hold him washes over you, a need so urgent you almost reach out and hug him. You know better than to do that, though. Sometimes, people need some space to open up and you’re willing to give him all the time he needs. You watch him shake his head, as if he was trying to make some memories leave his head, shortly gazing at you.
“I’m sorry for what I did. I’m really, really fucking sorry. You can’t even imagine how much I regret it. It’s just- I found the house half empty. I should have expected that he’d take everything with him, but at taht moment, it just didn’t click and then you appeared and I-I didn’t even know I could ever act such a way to you, I- I-” he rambles, tearing down all the walls, crawling his hands into fists in his lap in a desperate need of grounding himself, “I lost control. I shouldn’t have. But I did. And even though I don’t even want you to forgive me, because what I did was unforgivable, I want you to know how much I regret it every. Single. Day.”
He shrinks into himself. He appears smaller than he is, guarding himself with his hands folded over his knees, head popped up on the top of them. A frown is sitting on his face, fear wrapped around his expression as he remembers the actions of the past, his biggest mistakes and biggest regrets replaying in his head like a movie. He never wanted it to get this far. He didn’t mean to.
“You just… needed a way to cope. It’s okay.” you mumble. His head turns to you, eyes honest and open as pools of water, roaming your face up and down.
“It’s not, though.”
“It is,” you nod, “I’m not saying it was right. But life… it just happens. And at that time, it was all you could do and I understand.” you say, licking your lips in nervousness.
Silence overtakes the scene, two old friends sitting in the backyard watching the starless sky, only the sound of wind whispering into your bones clearing their minds up. Somehow, this all makes sense. It feels like it all led to this.
“How could you be so forgiving?” he asks. Honest curiosity coats his voice. Maybe if he knew how to forgive so easily, a lot of things wouldn’t have to go the way they did.
“Believe it or not, there was one woman who spoke to me with such honesty and care that taught me how to let things go,” you say, looking at him. It feels like he understands, like he knows exactly who you’re talking about, but you say it just in case, just so that the wind hears you and somehow makes the message reach her, wherever she is. “It was your mum.”
He smiles sadly at you, nodding. He bites his lower lip, lost in thought, laying down in the grass. You watch him for a while, taking in the presence of him, the fact that after those long years, you might actually have him back in your life for real and a wave of fondness washes over you. It’s like you’ve been waiting for this moment your whole life.
You lay next to him in the grass, watching the dark blanket lay over the two of you. “You look a lot like her.” you point out.
“Do I?” he asks, a hint of a smile reaching his voice.
“Yeah.” you nod. “And somehow, you both feel like home.” you add.
You move your head to the side so you can look at him, meeting his eyes in the instance. It seems like your friend had the same idea, smiling warmly at the coincidence when he lets his orbs skim over your features.
His smile feels comforting. You weren’t so sure of the emotion before, but now you’re sure it’s there. It’s been a while since you last saw Huang Renjun smile and it feels like a new beginning, a new recollection, a comforting whisper on your skin telling you that from now on, you’ll finally be alright.
Because you won’t repeat the same mistakes. You’ll be there for each other now.
His smile feels peaceful. Healing, even. You wish he’ll never stop smiling.
“You’ll be alright, Jun. You’re not alone, okay?” you whisper into the thin air, chills appearing all over your body when he nods and you turn to look back at the sky, not baring the intensity of his eyes anymore.
A lone star falls down the sky, the tail illuminating the dark, when you feel his touch on your hand, so gentle and soft you almost forget the rage he’s held you with the last time.
He squeezes your hand and you feel yourself making a promise to yourself– you’ll love him. You’ll be there for him, and you’ll wait, because he’s worth it. He just needs some time to heal, mending himself together like the ancient potters did with their broken pottery in Asia, filling the cracks of the beauty with gold.
“We’ll be alright.” he repeats.
Huang Renjun is no longer the only match in the small box, waiting for the spark to set him to burn. Anger used to consume him, but now he was just an empty shell– with nothing left to set on fire, nothing left to hurt. His mother was right, in a way. He had to let things go.
And now, he was ready to heal. He was ready to be filled with something new, ready to bloom like roses the spring again.
You decide to wait for him. You decide to love him. As always, after all.
You’ll be alright.