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There are shadows under his eyes.
Lines between his brows and forehead grow more pronounced, now, when he frowns.
His jaw is tense and his shoulders hunch forward a little.
Shangqi doesn’t recognize himself.
He turns this way and that, tries to reconcile the man he sees in the mirror under the flickering light of his dilapidating toilet, held together by the undying stubbornness of enterprise-grade duct-tape.
He leans back, avoids his own gaze in the mirror, as his eyes trace a short track around the expanse of his face.
He hasn’t shaved in days and his hair’s getting too long at the edges; he’s just a week away from looking like Mrs. Chen’s worst nightmare.
He takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, and tries in vain to steady the erratic beats of his heart. He times his breaths to sync with his leaking faucet, and after an eternity and a half, Shangqi allows gravity to sink him down onto the bathroom floor.
His legs crumple beneath him, and he leans back towards the basin, minutely registering the coolness of the cemented flooring against his bare legs.
He opens his eyes, blinks despondently at the fluorescent lighting of his bathroom.
Time trickles in and out of his consciousness, though he finds it a struggle to maintain the false sense of peace he tries to trick himself to adopt. He still tries, though, because it’s still a better option than going back to bed.
It’s still a blessing compared to remembering.
~~~~~~~~~~
He’d been foolish, before.
He’d mistaken his physical exhaustion for mindfulness, had even been grateful for it.
He hadn’t known, then, that eventually his sore muscles would return to normal. The dark-purplish bruises that Katy had fussed over – tutting at him to try and force him to take the herbal, medicinal ointment she borrowed from Waipo – these, too, would turn yellow, then eventually disappear into the warm hues of his skin.
The pressure he’d felt, as his aunt stood by him, both of them watching as the flower wreath he and Meimei had made for their parents slowly drift away from the shore –
All of that.
Everything that had tied him down to his past, every cable that he’d worked hard to unscrew, every memory he’s tried to suppress and every moment he’d pretended to be someone else he wasn’t–
All of that eventually dissipated into the crisp, San Franciscan air, Katy by his side and the promise of a start-over.
And, in the aftermath of his would’ve-been peace, Shangqi found himself wrapped in the chaos of nightmare after nightmare.
~~~~~~~~~~
They’re all one and the same, yet different each time he dreams of it.
He’s never aware it’s only a dream – the cityscape’s too real; too tangible. Dark navy bleeds into peach-nudes and mandarin-orange. The city lights beneath him shine way too bright that it hurts his eyes, blurs his vision.
The scaffolding beams are always flimsy under his experienced, nimble feet.
His feet weaves patterns onto the beams, balance precarious, as he rushes to his end goal.
There, he thinks, hands reaching up to grab onto a column.
He pulls himself up, forearms protesting, and he ignores how they twinge. His own personal agony lies second in this moment.
He hears the footfalls behind him grow louder, nearing a stampede, and he knows he’s run out of time.
“Shaun!” Katy screams, expression twisted in fear. It’s an expression so foreign to him, one that leaves an awful, bitter taste in his mouth and leaves him breathless. “Shaun!” She screams again, as the bamboo pole she grips onto with her entire body snap feebly.
“I’m coming,” he says, choking on his own tongue. “I’m coming!” He shouts, because maybe then he’ll believe it.
He forces himself to go further, uses all the strength in his legs – and, honestly, what good is his physical prowess for if not to save the most important person in his life?
What good is all the abusive training he’d gone through, if it still wasn’t enough to get him where he needed to be?
What good is he?
He reaches her in time.
And, yet, it always ends the same.
Katy’s hand slips from his, and she falls, eyes locked on his as her face freezes in fear.
Sometimes, when the gods are charitable, he wakes as she hits the ground.
But his subconscious is sadistically torturous – he only wakes after seeing her disappear into a void, eyes luminescent with betrayed tears and mouth open in disbelief, as she stretches her hand uselessly to reach him.
In the end, it’s always the same.
He loses her.
And that’s when his nightmare starts.
~~~~~~~~~~
He can’t sleep well.
It’s been nearly a month since they’d gotten back home, and Shangqi finds himself stuck in an endless loop of mental fatigue that drapes itself over his body like a thick, woolen cloth. He can’t rest, not peacefully.
And, worst still, she’s started to notice.
Shangqi has a bad habit of underestimating Katy.
He’d underestimated her loyalty to him, and he’d found himself at the mercy of her selflessness when she’d saved his life, time and time again in and out of Ta Lo.
He’d underestimated her bravery, and yet he’d found himself marveling at how dignified she’d looked, dressed in the colors of his mother’s village.
He’d underestimated her empathy, but she’d leaned onto him, laid her head on his shoulder, and took his hand in hers like it’d been the most natural thing in the world to do.
He never learns, though, and it’s because of this bad habit that he keeps getting shocked by how well Katy reads his tells.
“You look like you just lost a 10-mill lottery, dude,” she frowns at him, brows scrunched in the way that they do when she’s truly concerned, “You got debt I don’t know about, or is this the start of your emo-punk phase, ‘cuz, I gotta tell you, man, I’m way past that.”
Her ramble’s a distraction; he smiles. “Just tired, Katy.”
She eyes him critically, pursing her lips. She looks like she wants to say more, except Soo’s car comes trotting along the sidewalk, and he finds himself doing his level best to get her to forget.
~~~~~~~~~~
It’s mid-fall, and Katy’s nose is bright red.
It’s almost five months since they’d gone to Ta Lo, and Shangqi’s not getting any better at resting.
His nightmares have made him paranoid.
He lies to Katy – because that’s all that he can really do – and tells her he’s just stressed out from the trainings Wong, Stephen, and occasionally Sam, makes him do.
“Mmm-hmm, yeah,” she acquiesces, arms folded across her chest. “And I’m the worst driver this side of San Fran.” She scoffs, pulling her coat around her tighter. “Bull-effing-shit. Come on, man, what’s been eating at you?”
He clenches his jaw.
He stares at her for a good, long minute.
It should be easy, he tells himself, just open your goddamn mouth and tell her. Just tell her.
Tell her about how you dream you’re not fast enough to save her.
Tell her about how every single fucking night, you see her falling from that scaffolding.
Tell her about how you can’t lose her.
Go on.
Tell her.
“Shangqi?” Katy whispers.
In the dying sunlight, tapered by the changing colors of the leaves that paint brilliant shades of sepia and earth, Katy’s dark eyes melt into pools of dark chocolate.
He gazes into them, allows himself one brief moment where he’s able to stop pretending.
“I’ll be fine, Katy,” he tells her, and it’s a half-truth, “don’t worry about me. C’mon, it’s getting late,” he pulls his scarf from his neck and loops it around hers. He tucks the ends of it into the lapels of her coat.
He fixes her beanie even as she eyes him critically.
“You know you can trust me, right?” She tells him, going uncharacteristically quiet. He strains to listen to her. “I’m here for you, whenever and whatever you need.” She’s steadfast and serious, and Shangqi’s stunned at how her words cut through him like the steel edge of a chef’s knife.
His answering smile is watery, and maybe if he’d been stronger, he’d been able to tell her then.
Katy smiles back, tentative, then reaches into the pockets of her coat.
She pulls something out and presses it into his hands.
It’s warm.
She’s given him her hand-warmers.
“Come on,” she tells him, stepping away from the small space that’d been their own bubble, “let’s go grab dinner.”
The hand-warmers stay by his side the whole night through.
~~~~~~~~~~
His body knows even as his mind wanders.
In retrospect, he probably should’ve seen it coming.
His end-state’s anywhere she is, after all.
He’d lurched awake, body in a cold sweat, his heartbeats drowning out all his desperate gasps. He’d felt sick, recalling how Katy’s hand had slipped from his, and she’d fallen into an abyss, a bloodcurdling scream of his name resounding even as he crouched over the toilet and regurgitated his dinner.
Desperate, he’d tried for a cold shower, but no amount of scrubbing could relieve the itch he felt under his skin – millions and millions of imagined scenarios raced through his mind.
Eventually, he grabbed his keys and left.
It’s half past two in the morning; Shangqi doesn’t mind walking around the streets aimlessly.
The demons he fears are within him.
Everything else, he can handle.
So, he wanders.
He feels the cold autumn wind bite at his cheeks, and though the hand-warmers Katy’s given him has long since expired, he wraps his long fingers around it. Somehow, it helps. It reminds him of purpose, of meaning.
It reminds him of Katy, red-nosed and enthused for Thanksgiving.
His feet bring him right where he needs to be – underneath a streetlamp, opposite Katy’s home.
He finds himself staring up at the Chen household; Waipo and Waigong’s convenience store has its shutters in place. Above the store, he can see Ruihua’s window, where a dehydrated money plant seeks refuge by the corner of the windowsill.
And, right beside it, is Katy’s bedroom.
He huffs, letting out a fond chuckle.
She’s forgotten to close her window, and somehow, this small detail makes Shangqi feel warmer than if he’d been under his quilt on his bed back home.
Ambient, muted orange light filters through Katy’s curtains, and he realizes that Katy still keeps the nightlight Waigong made for her.
He remembers her talking about it once, though the memory he latches on is blurred with the interspersing webs of the years they’ve spent with each other. He remembers how Katy’d been afraid of the dark as a child, how she’d wept when her Ma had taken away her stuffed bear and given it to Ruihua.
Her Waigong, clever with his hands, had constructed a nightlight. “It’s my weapon,” Katy’d insisted to him, “my weapon against the monster that lives in my wardrobe.”
And, maybe, in the morning when he pretends he’s on the way back from a run and drops by the Chens, he’ll tease her about it. Ask her whether she keeps her nightlight, and whether she uses it still.
Maybe, if he’s able to find a manual and the spare parts to do it, he’ll build her a nightlight of his own. He’ll give it to her, tell her to keep her Waigong’s nightlight and encase it in a pretty box; someone else will take care of her now.
Maybe, drunk off their last bottle of beer and high off each other’s company, he’ll whisper to her about his nightmares.
Shangqi leans against the streetlamp, eyes fixed on Katy’s window.
He finds himself wishing Katy sweet dreams.
~~~~~~~~~~
It becomes a pastime.
That first time, Shangqi had returned home just as day broke and he’d gotten a glimpse of Mr. and Mrs. Chen dutifully trudging out their store to head to the nearby wet market.
He’d flopped onto his bed, and to his utter astonishment, had fallen asleep within minutes.
He didn’t dream, that time. Only darkness and the notion of time passing as he slumbered.
But it’d been better than the fitful sleep he’d get at night.
He’d woken up, after that first night, to knocks bouncing off his front door and his phone ringing.
It was Katy, worried, because he hadn’t shown up for their daily breakfast together.
He lies to her again when he lets her in. He hides the cereal box away from her and munches on expired cereal, tells her that he’d been up doing nighttime training.
“Aren’t you being too harsh on yourself, though?” She asked, worrying her bottom lip. She reaches over in a moment of his distraction, snatching the cereal box away from him. She dodges from him, reflexes better now that she trains with the Sorcerers at Kamar Taj.
She takes one look at the expiration label, then immediately reaches over to grab his bowl.
He downs his meal, grinning at her goofily, feeling better than he had in months.
She scowls, but her eyes are light and teasing.
“You gotta take better care of yourself, Shangqi,” she sighs, finally giving up their stare-down, before she turns to drop the cereal box into his trash. “And I’m not just referring to expired meals and ramen.”
She turns back to him, looks him right in the eye. “You haven’t been well since we got back from Ta Lo. You look exhausted. And it’s more than just the training,” she shakes her head, “it’s you and everything you don’t want to address. You shove everything into a ‘DO NOT TOUCH’ box – all caps, by the way – because you don’t want to deal with it.
“And I’ve been quiet about it because I didn’t want to push, but you’re being way too hard on yourself.” She shakes her head. “I . . . I’m worried about you.”
It’s her last sentence that strikes a chord with Shangqi.
He holds her gaze for a split second longer than he needs to, then breaks contact when he chooses to look at his feet instead.
He mumbles, “I know. I’m sorry for worrying you.”
“No, ugh, you don’t get it,” she takes a deep breath. There’s a shuffling of feet, then, suddenly, Katy’s a lot closer to him than before. He looks up again, and this time, she’s right in front of him.
She looks up at him, determined, and fearless, and for a wild moment, Shangqi thinks she’s going to kiss him.
Instead, Katy stands on her toes, reaching around him.
He freezes as Katy presses closer, tucking her head under his chin.
“It’s my job as your best friend to worry about you, stupid.” She tells him, voice muffled by his shirt collar. Shangqi’s arms hang uselessly by his sides, as he tries to comprehend what’s happening. “I’m worried you’re needlessly working way too hard. You don’t have to prove yourself to anyone, you know.”
Katy pulls away, and through her close proximity, Shangqi can see how her lashes flutter every time she blinks.
“You’re safe, here, Shangqi,” she says, then steps away.
He doesn’t realize he’s managed to get a hand pressed to the small of her back until his arm drops from around her waist.
Shangqi’s heart hammers in his ears for a different reason, now.
“Okay, heart-to-heart’s over.” She laughs, poking at his stomach. “Now get ready to haul ass back to my home; Waipo’s been asking for you.”
~~~~~~~~~~
A pastime becomes a habit.
A habit becomes irreversible.
It’s wrong.
That, he knows.
He shouldn’t be out here on the street, watching the light through Katy’s bedroom like some sort of creep.
He shouldn’t be out here, at all.
But it’s the only way he can sleep.
The knowledge that Katy’s nightlight means she’s up there, safe, tucked into her bed and snoring away – that’s a better balm compared to the off-the-shelf melatonin pills he tries to take. Knowing that she’s back home, and here, with him–
That’s the only thing that gives him his dreamless few hours of rest.
~~~~~~~~~~
It all comes to a head, one day.
It’s nearly spring; the air’s thicker now, full of pollen and a thinly veiled promise of better weather. Katy’s nose stops being red, and she swaps hand-warmers for light cardigans and her favorite band t-shirts.
“So, we good for tomorrow?” Soo asks Katy, just as Shangqi raises his hand to call for their server. He pretends to not listen in, as he looks over the damage they’d done in their bill. “I’ll pick you up at your place.”
He gives his card to the server, skillfully passing a couple of rumpled bills to him. The latter smiles at him, grateful, and Shangqi turns towards Katy who’s got an uncomfortable look on her face. “You guys going shopping tomorrow?”
And, for some reason, Katy flushes.
He blinks, startled.
“We’re tag-teaming,” Soo sings, teasing. “Katy’s got a hot date tomorrow night.”
Oh.
Shangqi’s jaw clenches tight.
His hands curl up into fists, and he feels them go clammy. He forces out a smile, tries his best to pretend that the unsettling feeling he feels unfurl itself from within the cages of his chest don’t bother him in the slightest.
“Cool.” It’s bitten-out, barely even coming out from how tense he’d become.
Katy avoids his gaze, tries for a distraction. “I’m stuffed. Let’s go walk this off.”
She barely talks to him after that, sticking close to Soo.
And maybe it’s for the best – he’s lost in his own mind.
Soo offers to drive them back, but Katy shrugs it off. “I’m good. I’ll take the bus and walk – I feel way too bloated after that chicken.”
“I’ll walk you home,” he states, even though he doesn’t really need to. Somehow, the way he says it makes Soo do a double take. She raises a brow at him before quietly conceding.
Katy’s quiet on the ride home.
She scrolls listlessly on her phone, so Shangqi does the same. He opens a game and half-heartedly attempts to play it, pretending the warmth of Katy’s arm pressed against his right side doesn’t distract him in any capacity.
She’s silent, too, as he walks her back.
Her steps are small, though; she’s taking her time.
He knows she’s trying to give him an opening, knows that she’s not going to be the one to break first. That’d been their schtick – for all her hot-headedness and propensity for impulsive decisions, she’d let him take the lead where and when it matters.
Because she trusts him.
He stuffs his hands in his pocket.
“How’d you meet him?”
She doesn’t beat around the bush. “He’s John’s friend from work. Caught a movie with him one time with Soo and John; a few of their other friends bailed, so . . .” She trails off. “He seemed nice, so when he asked, I said yes.”
Ah.
So, he’d been wrong.
Not knowing was better than this.
He hopes Katy doesn’t hear the sour undertone to his voice, “I hope he treats you nice.”
They’re almost at her block – just a turn to the left, and a few minutes down, she’ll disappear into the backdoor of her home.
And he’ll walk back.
Alone.
He stops.
Katy walks forward a few steps before realizing he’s not by her side. She pauses, too, and quickly turns to face him.
The lights of the neighboring homes cast shadows on her face. Shangqi knows it’s irrational to feel whatever the hell he’s feeling – there’s an intense, unkind emotion that scratches from within him, as if it’s willing its way to get out.
It’s stupid.
But in the evening light, the distance between him and Katy feels longer than before.
“Shangqi?” She asks, and steps forward.
He catches a glimpse of something, then.
The way she might call for someone else in the future.
The way he might not be able to covet instances – moments – like this.
The way that same distance will continue to grow, and grow, and grow, and–
Until he loses her.
He breaks.
“I can’t sleep, Katy.”
~~~~~~~~~~
The days after his confession slither around Katy’s disappointment.
“I . . . I gotta tell you, man,” she’d finally sighed, and there’d been deep valley between her brows. “I really don’t know what to say. Let me just . . . let me go home. Please don’t follow me.”
He gets it.
He does.
If he’d been in her place, and if she’d been the one to tell him that she was essentially stalking him every night, he’d feel instinctively uncomfortable. That’s the reality of it – whatever he does, even if it’d been a coping mechanism, it’s one that brings genuine incredulity because it’s still without the other person’s knowledge.
Hell, if anyone else might’ve done that to Katy, he would’ve hunted the person down, probably scared them off. Beat them bloody, if he had to. Shangqi doesn’t compromise on Katy’s safety in any form.
So, why should he be an exception?
He stays away from the Chens afterwards.
The nightmares return, and they come back in full force.
His imagination gets deceivingly creative – he dreams of losing Katy in a myriad of ways.
There’s the usual – her hand slipping from his, and the terrifying sound of bones breaking as her body hits the ground.
Then, there are others – her walking away with some unknown person he can’t physically see.
Those few steps that’d been between them as he’d confessed to her what he’d done, and how those steps gradually become a yawning chasm as he dreamt . . .
He’d woken up in tears.
He tries to stay awake longer but his lack of rest impacts his training. He pays the price for his distraction with injuries.
Wong kicks him out, forces him to take weeks off. Tells him not to come back until he’s gotten better.
It’s futile.
Shangqi still can’t rest.
He feels like he’s driving himself to the brink of insanity. Couple more days, maybe, and he’d step off the ledge.
Anything.
Anything.
Just so he can rest.
He paces around his place, occasionally leaves it when he feels too compressed. He steers clear from the road that leads to the Chens, though, and ignores Ruihua’s texts when he starts pestering him why he hasn’t been around to join them for breakfast.
He’s sitting at his kitchen table, fiddling with a broken radio he’d found, when his door opens and Katy comes through.
She’s wearing an oversized shirt, and under its hem, he sees a peek of the walking shorts she favors when the days get too hot for her to wear jeans. She takes a precursory glance around his apartment, before finally seeing him at his table.
He sits up straight, awkward and out of place even in his own home.
“What’re you–”
“Listen,” she talks over him. He shuts up. “I’m not gonna pretend I’m not mad at you for not telling you’ve been going through it since we got back from Ta Lo. And I’m also not gonna pretend I wasn’t creeped out when you told me you’d stand at the street and basically became a peeping tom. I’m not.
“But,” she takes a deep breath, shrugging her small backpack off her shoulders and placing it gently on top of his table, where she takes a seat opposite of him. “You’re my best friend. And you’re not okay. You haven’t been, since god knows how long. So, if you’re willing to put in the work, then I’m gonna be right here with you. Ride or die.”
She opens her bag, reaches into it.
She pulls out a small pendant, then pushes it towards him.
It’s a small, white, smooth looking flat circle stone.
“It’s a long-distance thing,” she tells him, lips pulling up in a proud smile. “You tap on it, and it’ll light up on my own stone, and vice-versa.” She lifts her arm, showing off a simple, gold bracelet with a similar stone on her wrist. “At least, in this way, you'll know I'm okay, no matter where we are. Here, give me your phone and I’ll show you how it works.”
Later, after she’s done downloading the app and showing him how the pendant lights up, he asks, “Why’re you doing this, Katy?”
She shoves away from the table, crossing over to his seat to stand behind him. She doesn’t have any compunctions leaning down to wrap her arms around his shoulders, face buried into his hair.
“Because I care about you, and whatever you’re going through, we’re gonna get through it together. Also,” she pulls away, and Shangqi finds himself wishing he’d had the courage to stop her, “I’m sick of being a third-wheeler when I’m out with Soo and her beau.”
He tilts his head backwards, looks at her through upside-down lenses. She doesn’t catch his gaze, fiddling with her own pendant. “Could’ve brought the guy you went out with.”
She shrugs, tapping on her pendant once more, then grinning widely when she checks that his own stone lights up in response. “Nah,” is all she says.
He fails to hide his smile, then.
~~~~~~~~~~
Soo squints at his necklace.
On reflex, he reaches up to touch it.
Beside his mother’s jade pendant, he’s got Katy’s stone intricately welded on the thin chain. “What?”
“Hey,” she calls over to Katy, who’s busy looking through the menu, “ain’t that the thing you were searching everywhere for?”
Katy looks up, sees where Soo’s pointing, and flits her gaze back to her menu, unaffected. “Yep.”
Soo jerks her head back, frowning slightly, then looks between Katy and him.
“Huh.”
~~~~~~~~~~
Shangqi’s nightmares don’t go away.
They come less often, now.
He thinks he’s getting better at coping.
He talks to Katy, as they help to stock her family’s convenience store. Sometimes he talks until his voice goes hoarse.
He tells her about his nightmares, and Katy listens actively. She doesn’t say anything, doesn’t sit him down and put him under a microscope. She doesn’t berate him. She just listens.
She wrangles him to talk to the other, more experienced heroes, and their advice and own stories helps substantially with his own.
He learns it’s not loss that he fears, but that he fears what could be lost to him. He hasn't learned, yet, to let go of that fear.
He likes to think that he'll get there. Probably not anytime soon, but someday, he will.
It’s nearing midnight.
Shangqi feels the tendrils of sleep lull him slowly to slumber.
He reaches up to touch on his stone.
He waits awhile, then–
The stone lights up; just a soft, white glow against the backdrop of his dark bedroom. Katy's awake, and she's safe - she'd been waiting for him.
When he gives in to sleep, this time, he dreams of maybes.